P81 RURAL BOUND DAYS
Fighting the ants and katydids.
Planting the corn and counting the kids.
Mowing the hay.
Skin sunburned day.
Scrubbing the rust, cleaning the dust.
Pulling the sod where garden will be.
Picking the beans that supper will make.
Watching, waiting for dawn to break.
Sounds, smells, special times found.
Trials, tribulations and treasures around.
Are special happenings
...of rural bound days.
P82 THE DANDELIONS
Please don't take the dandelions, atop of where I lay,
for the Lord has mixed them through the bright bladed grass
where they were meant to stay.
For they give the ground such color, the yellow mixed with green.
So, please don't take away the dandelions, atop of where I lay...
It's only the children that have the right,
that run and pick them while they play.
P83 COUNTRY WAY
Apple blossom and apple pie.
Honey bears and honey bees.
Daffodils and cherry trees.
Rich soil, sweet clover. Dawn breaks, dawn wakes.
Sun baked mud, the hogs keep cool and feel at ease.
I smell the fresh cut hay that lingers into the breeze.
Dog keeps scratch'n at a flea.
Calico cat chases a squirrel up the old hickory tree.
Blue coveralls and blue skies above me.
Hot summer day, hot tin roof.
Clippity-clop of horses hoof.
Muslin bonnet, gingham apron.
Mama fries up eggs and bacon.
Rooster crows time to rise.
So, down the stairs we race to the table.
Papa says grace.
After breakfast we dress then run.
Chores are finished, laundry is hung.
We pain the whitewash on the fence.
Mama makes homemade pies.
Cools them on the window ledge.
Here comes the gander and the goose.
Hard as we try they always get loose.
Lily pads, cattails and small green frogs.
Horseflies, butterflies and walk'n sticks.
Jump in the pond to cool from the day,
guess that is the country way...
P84 CRY FOR FREEDOM
I know why the caged bird sings, his cry is for Freedom!
His cry is one of lonesome solitude.
His company he keeps is his own.
I know why the caged bird sings,
he sings about the arrival of each new day.
In his cage he keeps safe.
Looks out upon the outside...and looks.
Begins to sing once again of his safety. Within his small lit space.
His cry maybe that of rejoicing.
...Rejoicing for his safety and solitude.
His cry maybe that of warning.
...Warning others of his solitude.
Yes, I know why the caged bird sings...
His cry is for Freedom-which maybe his only dream.
P85 PROGRESS
As I sit upon this concrete slab of stone,
I think of how my country has grown.
Grown for the better, some would say.
Looking around me I see all the progress of today...
Well, some young man burned the American flag yesterday.
They said it was his right...
RIGHT they say.
What RIGHT
has the soldier still unable to find work?
What RIGHT
of the Indian still looking for his land?
What RIGHT
of the poor street people which need a helping hand...
What RIGHT
has he to burn the flag?
One nation on which we stand!
But they repeat of progress,
place this concrete on top this land.
The flood waters have no place to go.
The flowers and trees have no soil in which to grow.
The animals tell human kind it's time to stop.
The birds than cannot sing.
The fish that cannot swim.
It's time to realize whether our progress-
is really progress at all...
Fighting the ants and katydids.
Planting the corn and counting the kids.
Mowing the hay.
Skin sunburned day.
Scrubbing the rust, cleaning the dust.
Pulling the sod where garden will be.
Picking the beans that supper will make.
Watching, waiting for dawn to break.
Sounds, smells, special times found.
Trials, tribulations and treasures around.
Are special happenings
...of rural bound days.
P82 THE DANDELIONS
Please don't take the dandelions, atop of where I lay,
for the Lord has mixed them through the bright bladed grass
where they were meant to stay.
For they give the ground such color, the yellow mixed with green.
So, please don't take away the dandelions, atop of where I lay...
It's only the children that have the right,
that run and pick them while they play.
P83 COUNTRY WAY
Apple blossom and apple pie.
Honey bears and honey bees.
Daffodils and cherry trees.
Rich soil, sweet clover. Dawn breaks, dawn wakes.
Sun baked mud, the hogs keep cool and feel at ease.
I smell the fresh cut hay that lingers into the breeze.
Dog keeps scratch'n at a flea.
Calico cat chases a squirrel up the old hickory tree.
Blue coveralls and blue skies above me.
Hot summer day, hot tin roof.
Clippity-clop of horses hoof.
Muslin bonnet, gingham apron.
Mama fries up eggs and bacon.
Rooster crows time to rise.
So, down the stairs we race to the table.
Papa says grace.
After breakfast we dress then run.
Chores are finished, laundry is hung.
We pain the whitewash on the fence.
Mama makes homemade pies.
Cools them on the window ledge.
Here comes the gander and the goose.
Hard as we try they always get loose.
Lily pads, cattails and small green frogs.
Horseflies, butterflies and walk'n sticks.
Jump in the pond to cool from the day,
guess that is the country way...
P84 CRY FOR FREEDOM
I know why the caged bird sings, his cry is for Freedom!
His cry is one of lonesome solitude.
His company he keeps is his own.
I know why the caged bird sings,
he sings about the arrival of each new day.
In his cage he keeps safe.
Looks out upon the outside...and looks.
Begins to sing once again of his safety. Within his small lit space.
His cry maybe that of rejoicing.
...Rejoicing for his safety and solitude.
His cry maybe that of warning.
...Warning others of his solitude.
Yes, I know why the caged bird sings...
His cry is for Freedom-which maybe his only dream.
P85 PROGRESS
As I sit upon this concrete slab of stone,
I think of how my country has grown.
Grown for the better, some would say.
Looking around me I see all the progress of today...
Well, some young man burned the American flag yesterday.
They said it was his right...
RIGHT they say.
What RIGHT
has the soldier still unable to find work?
What RIGHT
of the Indian still looking for his land?
What RIGHT
of the poor street people which need a helping hand...
What RIGHT
has he to burn the flag?
One nation on which we stand!
But they repeat of progress,
place this concrete on top this land.
The flood waters have no place to go.
The flowers and trees have no soil in which to grow.
The animals tell human kind it's time to stop.
The birds than cannot sing.
The fish that cannot swim.
It's time to realize whether our progress-
is really progress at all...
P86 SOLDIER'S HEAVY BROW
Like a soldier's heavy brow,
he wears his scars upon his face.
Of all the wars which un-erased.
The past that kept deep inside.
Inside are where my scars did lie.
Lie down inside a deep hiding place.
Which never shall be un-erased
The childhood past, ten years did last.
Lasting memories do remain.
Like a soldier's heavy brow.
Lasting past of yesterday's pain.
Like a soldier's heavy brow.
Wars which un-erased
Into battle once again,
I grab my gun which was my friend.
Marching onward to the shore,
where I lay my heavy brow.
Onward to my destiny flee,
...like a soldier... I will be!
P87 THESE HANDS
These hands that work the old worn plow.
These hands that wipe my sweaty brow.
These hands that milk the dairy cow.
These hands that mend my tattered clothes.
These hands that wipe my runny nose.
These hands that chop the wood for fuel.
These hands that taught the golden rule.
These hands that prairie mother be,
these gentle hands that comfort me...
P88 WHITE BLANKET SLEEP
This peaceful sleep is upon us now,
this white blanket covers the land.
All the world is at rest.
This white blanket of peace,
which makes the world pure and anew again.
Lonely horn of passing train, sounds so lonesome and cold.
The limbs of the nearby hickory hang heavy now.
With crisp ice layers upon them.
Surely this Winter won't be a long one.
Hopefully Spring will arrive early this year.
As white blanket sleep is upon us now.
The world is quiet now.
The earth is still...beauty at it's best.
...And the still earth 'round us takes her rest.
P89 JANUARY DAY
Wet.
Cold.
Pattern,
foot prints
in the snow.
Everywhere you go.
Twig cracks.
Deer tracks. Baby fawn and mother doe.
Or jackrabbit. Look at him go!
Bright sun tracks melted away.
They'll be back on the next cold January day.
The winter quickly passes away,
turning the corner for a February day.
Footprints... will soon melt away.
Soon to return on another snow-filled day.
Contentful January day...
A foot pressed carefully to the snow.
Tracks to follow through the woods, as we go.
A quiet time of winter.
Simple January day...and footprints in the snow.
P90 MOTHER'S LOVE
My Mother's love...is unconditional.
Her smile that of kindness.
Her touch and hug...tender, warm and caring.
Her smile need not a word said.
Guidance and comfort she has given me.
To help make the most of my life and values taught maybe.
Not only my Mother is she to me...
but my best friend God's given to thee.
P91 OLD FRIENDS
They gather together to reminisce and remember.
Long ago times and thoughts.
Of years gone by but not forgotten.
A smile and a laugh from a moment of a happy time.
Time yet again stood still.
Three tears within the eyes of these long ago three lady's.
As though maybe meeting once again for the first time.
The tear from harder, sorrowed times.
These times too, remembered.
Hardly time in the present to breath.
As they three talked on for hours.
...Time stood still, they say---
As three old friends gathered together,
on that rainy April day.
P92 THROUGH MY MOTHER'S EYES
Through my Mother's eyes, I see myself.
Clichés' she's said now come from my lips.
So different we are, but yet so much alike.
Through my Mother's eyes,
I see my childhood days.
The times we've laughed, loved and cried.
I see the painful times, too--
Times of trials and tribulations she had to endure.
I see the child in her gone, but not forgotten.
The young women in her that use to be...
I see the now older women looking through me.
My friend and companion she's been to me--
Now, through my Mother's eyes I see
my own reflection smiling back at me...
P93 MAKE A WAY
Make a way...
Lord for calmer days.
Make a way, make a way.
Make a way
for peaceful days...
Make a way, Lord...make a way.
Make a way for happier days...
Lord please make a way.
We thank you Lord...for these days yet to come
The current days are so worrisome.
Oh, Lord please make a way...
P94 PASSING TIME
Though the years are passing by--
Yet, inside myself I feel the child that still lives.
Beneath the wrinkle which lies under my eye, then I cry.
I can't believe the time - the years that pass by too, quickly.
My Mother's birthday was today
we seem to have switched rolls.
...That of parent and child.
I see the children of my classmates
I see too, their childhood lost in them.
I can't yet believe these children growing-
are this years graduates
...the same children I use to sit for and feed and diaper.
P95 LOOSING FACE
My skin as though a torturous shell
The body casing, simply the outward shell.
Losing face...the living hell.
Body existing without a trace.
Total disappearance from the human race.
Millions of eyes watching. But the flesh still remains.
As I wait for the enter-soul to return.
I look in the mirror once again...feel for my face---
it's gone my friend.
Loosing face, loosing hope.
...Along with reality.
Please Lord...help me look -where can my face be?
Perhaps it's not the old face which I'll ever find
but instead a new face, one which is truly mine!
P96 TOUCHED BY DESTINY
You love that of unconditional
...Unconditional love...
and I am touched.
Touched by each day dawning.
Touched by the warmth and softness of your skin
...and I am moved.
Moved toward the brilliant light of the sun
Each day different with exciting challenges, along life's pathway.
Moved am I...
by your efforts and strength to press onward and upward each day
while I stand relentless and unsure of our remaining destiny...
Destiny will still arrive, like the flower petal time unfolds...
Touched by destiny - you and I.
P97 DANCING IN THE WIND
The locus and small green frogs
are singing their praises tonight...
The air is still, but humid.
The moon full and shining bright.
Mid May rain has lasted for days. The lake is full to it's bank.
Gators they harmonize in the stillness of the night.
Sitting here with my eyes closed,
I begin in melting-meditation.
It is peaceful now while the earth gets ready for sleep...
Sleep too, so will I...
For tomorrow the palms will rustle their fronds back and forth.
The fish and turtles out in the lake
will be full of early morning activity
...and the palms will sing their praises
by dancing in the wind.
P98 I EXHALE
Jadente', Sin Alento'
You inhale, I exhale...you exhale, I inhale.
You inhale, I inhale...you exhale, I exhale.
Our breathing now becomes one.
You body intertwined, united with mine as we become one.
We become one, as we become one.
Jadente' Sin alento', Jadente' Sin alento...
For a moment, time and space are endless now.
Our bodies...spirits and mind become one.
When time, when breath...
When body and movement are as one.
Jadente' Sin alento', Jadente' Sin alento...
You exhale, I exhale. You inhale, I inhale.
You exhale, I inhale. You inhale, I exhale...
Jadente' Sin alento', Jadente' Sin alento...
P100 THE MOON SEEMS BRIGHTER TONIGHT That ole' man in the moon seems brighter tonight. Gator's and crickets harmonizing in song. The steamy summer on it's way, it won't be long. Dangling strains of fuzzy moss hang from the trees, swaying in the breeze. Oh, the moon just seems brighter tonight. Puts my mind at ease. That gray heron perched upon the shore line, stands erect as if making the statement squatters rights. The Flagler's, Stirlings and Gallaway's we've come to know. The Seminole and Miccouskee Indians of long ago ...are still here you know. The River of Grass, palm trees, and midnight ocean's salty air. Sunbaked bathing beauties every where...without a care. Come experience this tropical atmosphere, if you dare. It's Reggae and Calypso music combined Rhythm and Salsa with steel drums...keeping time. Pleasurable admiration at the oceans vase delight. Yes, I'd say the moon seems even bigger and brighter tonight... P99 A WRITER'S HEART Anyone can write, but to write and do it very well, you must place the pen at one's heart ...and not merely in one's hand. For the true feelings come from the way of your soul. Paper and pen man-made instruments, for which the ink is allowed to flow... Flowing as enchanting musical notes, which you the conductor can conquer and control. Your feelings, your emotions for which you express... You must place the pen at one's heart ...and not merely in one's hand. P100 THE MOON SEEMS BRIGHTER TONIGHT
That ole' man in the moon seems brighter tonight.
Gator's and crickets harmonizing in song.
The steamy summer on it's way, it won't be long.
Dangling strains of fuzzy moss hang from the trees,
swaying in the breeze.
Oh, the moon just seems brighter tonight.
Puts my mind at ease.
That gray heron perched upon the shore line,
stands erect as if making the statement squatters rights.
The Flagler's, Stirlings and Gallaway's we've come to know.
The Seminole and Miccouskee Indians of long ago
...are still here you know.
The River of Grass, palm trees, and midnight ocean's salty air.
Sunbaked bathing beauties every where...without a care.
Come experience this tropical atmosphere, if you dare.
It's Reggae and Calypso music combined
Rhythm and Salsa with steel drums...keeping time.
Pleasurable admiration at the oceans vase delight.
Yes, I'd say the moon seems even bigger and brighter tonight...