Anthology of Kat Anthology of Kat
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mother, Frances Bowles.
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About the author
All the poems are written from experiences or feelings and come straight from my heart1
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summary
THE FINAL STAND
THE CHRISTMAS GIFT
THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
TRUE INNOCENSE
ANIMAL VALLEY
THE MIND VISIT
SILVER AND GOLD
A SONG FOR MAMA
THE GREAT BIRTH
THE ONE MAN SHOW
BAH HUMBUG!
OLD CANE CREEK
ROSES COME WITH THORNS
ON THIS SPECIAL DAY!
UPDATE ON FERN VALLEY
THE BIG BANG THAT WAS NEVER HEARD
WINTERS GRIP
THE HIDDEN TREASURE
YOU SEE ME THROUGH TODAY EYES
RED BIRD TELLS IT LIKE IT IS!
OFFSPRING
A DAY AT THE LAKE
LIKE A SNAKE IN THE GRASS
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BETTY FORD ALPINE GARDENS
THE STRONG, THE PROUD, THE FEW!
THEY CALLED US SAVAGE?
BATTLE CRIES
THE NIGHT SHIFT
MABRYS MILL (THE GHOST OF THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS)
HE THINKS HE\'S A PEACOCK!
THE FOREST GIANTS
MY OPEN BOOK
SILENT ANGEL
TWO GO TOGETHER
A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN
A TRIP UP NORTH
A LIGHT HOUSE FOREVER MORE
ANNA BELLE LEE
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THE FINAL STAND
Dug in and the enemy lye's in wait. Unsure of the days battle, has my time too came and is it too late?
In the distance I see the greenery of my advisory as they slowly close in. My gun in hand and with courage and honor I take my stand.
Upon these foreign grounds and across those distant shores, I remember my pledge to the red, white and the blue. To serve and protect my country. To the flag stand erect and be ever true.
Facing the fight one- by- one as they attack. With strong arms and willing hands, I do my duty and attend to my brother's back.
Many fall and rise not again. So many are lost and so few still stand in the end.
The final stand of Vietnam, in those trenches and those fields. Although my body left there long ago. It is the mind that returns and with full attention it is there once again it does yield.
The final stand, no gun does lye within my hand. It is here I fight the mental battle in my own home land.
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THE CHRISTMAS GIFT
The child sat upon Santa's knee. No toy did she ask for, just one simple plea.
To keep her mother for Christmas and into the new year. She begged and cried as from her eyes fell many a sad tear.
For her mother is very sick and the cancer has spread. Now all her mother can do is lay weakly upon her dying bed.
The Mother of the child has spent much time working on a book. Not allowing her family to read the words she has wrote, waiting for Christmas to let them have a look.
The doctor's had said some time ago, she has only a few months left to live. So many words upon the pages she has needed to give.
Only two days till Christmas and there is an empty bed. Under the Christmas tree lay a gift waiting to be read.
No joy, no holiday cheer. The child's mother would not see this Christmas nor the coming in of a new year.
On Christmas morning sadly they gather round the tree. Yes, there were gifts, but only one did the child reach for upon bended knees.
The one addressed to her by her mother and wrapped in green and red. The book her mother wrote her as she lay sickly in bed.
The little child's eyes began to twinkle with sparks of joy. As she read each word as her mother described each preciously wrapped toy.
Then the words talked of the coming new year
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and how in her little heart her mother's great love would always be near.
Many other pages the book does contain. With words by her mother asking her until another day from reading them she should refrain.
Words written in a book. Left for a small child to each day with her mother take a loving look.
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THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
The world has become an unfamiliar place. The changing looks upon the peoples face.
No words upon which to share. Our hellos and how are you? Humanity does no longer seem to care.
The doors remain closed, not even opened for a lady. Although her arms are burdened with groceries and baby.
We all want to take and never give. Oh what a self- growing selfishness within us is beginning to live.
The homeless have no shelter's. Food lay far too long in our pantries and is weltered.
Many a gift under our Christmas trees. While some go empty, how and why should this be.
Abandoned mothers by absent fathers, little children to them cling. A small toy could make their tiny hearts sing.
Hope lye's within a ringing bell and a red bucket we see at our local stores. Most walk by with out a glance. Few give any more.
The season of good cheer. Has reached us once again this time of year.
Let us all remember those less fortunate than we. Play your holiday music, share your abundance and blessings
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Help dry your neighbors lonely silent tears.
See the need as it awaits for hands to help make this magical season merry and bright. Twill make your head sleep in peaceful thoughts at night.
And oh what a blessing in return, to fulfill a little child with for what they yearn.
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TRUE INNOCENSE
Nothing, no nothing in this world is more precious than an innocent child. They are born into this world so pure and helpless.
Depending solely on parents hands to guide and care for them. Everything we sew they reap.
All we know they learn. The abundance we provide they without knowing take.
Our intelligence fills their newly forming mind. We shape and we mold them by our guiding hands.
Nothing, no nothing in this world is more precious than an innocent little child. May our providing hands and nurturing minds keep them safe as we always do the best we can!
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ANIMAL VALLEY
Deep down in Animal Valley. Where the grass is always green.
Some unfamiliar mammals had began to stir up trouble. The Lion King called for a meeting. Surrounding all by the Old Oak tree.
The Lion King strong and brave declared war. We must protect our weak. The wise Ole Owl he agreed.
The shy Dog did not want to get involved. A Cow full of courage was always ready.
The hard headed Goat was a nosey bloat and always stuck in it. And a tender hearted Cat refused to sit in silence.
The Evil Wizard often enjoyed their taunting threats to fight. So, they all went out to battle the unfamiliar mammals. Except for the Evil Wizard and the shy Dog.
Once returning to Animal Valley and conquering the fight. The Evil Wizard had tortured the shy dog while they were away.
The band of the brave once again did thicken. The Evil Wizard did fly away with tucked tail behind the unfamiliar mammals that left that peaceful day.
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THE MIND VISIT
Have you ever been taken to another place? One you truly did not view. You were never really there, it was not before your face.
Often vivid and from your mind it could never be erased.
You felt it without touch. You saw it without sight. It was heard without sound. It was held within your grasp.
It took you sealed between the covers and laying on sheets of white. The mind does often travel to places of the unknown. The eyes can see, the ears can hear all that is felt between the covers that is placed on the pages of an open book.
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SILVER AND GOLD
This time of year can bring such delight. So many wonderful decorations that hang and are placed within our sight.
A tree all decked out in lights, holiday ornaments and sprinkled with snow. A box wrapped in shiny colors and topped with a pretty bow.
The ladies all dressed in festive colors, adorned in silver and gold. They love to open a gift, no matter how young or old.
And those tiny tots with eyes just open. Awake on Christmas morning to receive that special gift for which their heart had been hoping.
Lets not forget the gents, having all their money spent.
They themselves would never change the joy of one single day. A time when briefly the cares and problems of this world simply seem to melt away.
Yes, a glorious time, a magical time when warm grateful hearts open up with cheer. That wonderful season that is only felt this time of year.
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A SONG FOR MAMA
On the wings of a snow white dove. She carries my sweet love.
As from here below, so many times I did show.
She bore me years ago. In agony and pain, I know.
She gave me life to live. In return I had much to give.
Guiding hands for her to see. Helping arms from me.
Often I still feel the hand as it was placed upon my shoulder. Not as young as I use to be, I am now much older.
So many times I long to tell her that I love her still. That great lady of courage that allowed nothing to break her will.
Standing tall and strong like a grounded firm Oak tree. But, I knew it was not in this world that she needed to be. It was in a place in which her eyes could finally open and see.
So, when I see that beautiful dove, soaring high and free so way up above.
I know I saw my dear mother and she does carry within her wings my heart. For that very reason we shall never be apart.
On the wings of a snow white dove, yes oh yes, forever and ever she will carry my sweet love.
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THE GREAT BIRTH
For unto us is born a savior who is Christ the Lord. He came not as a Great King to rule and break. Yet, as a lowly man and to the cross all our sins to take.
No Great wealth did he obtain. Only a mighty name and cast upon himself all our guilty stains.
Expecting nothing in return for his precious gift. Except in song our voices to gently his name lift.
To eat the bread and drink the wine at supper. That represents his body that was gave for all and no other.
It is left upon each wondering soul to not or believe. It is to his father he has ascended and this world behind he did leave.
But, without hope and left in darkness us he did not. For he shined a light for all to see and within himself was not a guilty spot.
He came as a tiny babe wrapped in swaddling clothes he laid. To the cross he bore our sins and his Great sacrifice and love was nailed to the cross and within his hands and feet our guilt was paid.
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THE ONE MAN SHOW
He set the stage. He called to the crowd. He wrote the script.
He played the part top-notch. He gave the bow. It was his self-made play.
He alone was writer, performer and recipient. His world was his alone. He made his way, returning to his one man home.
A lonely man he truly is. Having taken upon himself each character. In his eyes no one is good enough, except he and for these thoughts a one man show he will forever be.
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BAH HUMBUG!
Coughing, sneezing, fever and chills. Not holiday wants nor thrills.
No fun to be sick this time of year. That time when family will be drawing near.
Gifts I have for them to open. But, this holiday bug to give them, I am certainly not hoping.
To all here on MPS I wish you Merry Christmas and the best of wishes for the coming new year!
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OLD CANE CREEK
She walks along the muddy banks of Old Cane Creek. Remembering all the times of so long ago. At this place her mind can clearly think.
Visions of that swinging vine from where they once clung and into the water they jumped in. Teenagers so young and in love. It was here a life time of vows and promises had began.
She married him at the tender age of sixteen. Gave birth to their first child a short time later. Many a year and babies have come and gone. Grown now and families of their own. My how time has past and how could it be that long?
You see, her body yes, it has changed. No longer that form of a young lady. There are wrinkles and some things have been rearranged.
But, it is her mind that has stood the test of time.
She still sees through girlish eyes. At love songs she still often cries.
Longing to feel her lover's sweet kiss. His strong hands and loving heart she does sorely miss.
Now, all alone and barefooted she walks the muddy banks of Old Cane Creek. It is in this place she allows her mind to think. As her feet in the mud does once again sink.
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ROSES COME WITH THORNS
Tip toeing through the thorns, I found a rose.
Wading through the water, I picked up a pearl.
Walking along the beaten path, I found my way.
Facing the cold wind, I felt the sun.
Lost in the dark, I saw the light.
In my weakest of moments, I found great strength.
In my wildest dreams, I soon awakened.
At times of sorrow and grief, I search myself and remember you still remain close inside.
When longings come to hear your sweet voice, and feel your tender hand.
I simply pick up my pen and I hear your loving, caring voice resound over and over again.
Some things can not be replaced. We merely have to look deep within. That is where we find those who have passed into another life.
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We bring them from the mind to the present although they are only from the past.
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ON THIS SPECIAL DAY!
There is a party of which I can not yet attend. They are having a parade on streets of gold.
My mother is the grand guest. The Angels are the heavenly hosts.
Yes, there are bright lights and party favors. The most beautiful cake decorated with silver and rose.
A feast fit for a King. Of course he will be there. He is the one for which all do with voice praise and sing.
Yet, it will be her special day. Her wings are shiny and her harp she plays by string.
She needs no special aid to hit the correct cord. For her eyes see clearly now, she has received her greatest reward.
In life through illness and blind in the dark, Her spirit stayed strong and never broke.
She made her journey some time ago. The soul of a fighter who over came in the end and I never had to be told.
Play your stringed harp! Enjoy your great feast! Flutter your beautiful wings! See through those emerald eyes! Walk softly on those streets of gold!
Finally, in the end when my fight I shall over come.
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I myself will take up my harp and we shall make music together. The sweetest sounds no earthly ear will ever hear. The spiritual tunes that can only be played by a happy soul!
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UPDATE ON FERN VALLEY
After the Arctic air has slowly passed. A new year of construction has began, clearing trees to put septic tank below ground. Chain saw roars loudly interrupting the usual peaceful sounds.
Gravels that were by hand shoveled. Now, over the road they cover.
A large deep hole now dug and ready. To be built up by block with crafty hands so steady.
A line of credit dreadly obtained. Home depot will supply some needs, it will be finished just the same.
A monthly payment I will balance. With hands so sore and callused.
The left over cash must be spent. For where our body waste should be sent. LOL
Many wire and three breaker boxes will be fused. So electricity we may finally use.
That too comes with a price to pay. It will be worth it all in the end. When Fern Valley is my home that soon coming day.
Building permits come by not one but three. The county must fill their pockets too you see.
Everything must be perfect to code. Sometimes causing stress to over load.
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A task that we have taken. Another like this one, I shall never be making!
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THE BIG BANG THAT WAS NEVER HEARD
Just like yesterday tomorrow will always be. Tomorrow never changes just like yesterday.
Just like me humans will always be. It never changes you are human just like me.
Time never stands still it is always moving forward. It never turns back.
The cold always freezes and never thaws. The sun warms and always melts.
The sky stays above and never falls. The ground is below and never rises.
Earth stays in perfect order. Could it have been created by a big bang? No disarray that I have ever viewed ever created any great thang.
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WINTERS GRIP
Winter's endless grip of bitter cold hands. Freezes all in his path.
Ice forms and blocks the usual cascade of water flowing over rocks.
Streams and rivers become still when kissed by his chilling breath.
His touch this season is so harsh. The brightness of the sun gives little comfort from his powerful grip.
Disallowing the cold hard ground to soften. Until Spring appears drawing higher temperatures closer near.
Winter will then his hands slowly begin to release.
The ground, the rocks, the streams and rivers will soften in springtime's relief.
Allowing earth to once again return to motion. Stalks of green will burst joyfully forth as the ground does soften.
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THE HIDDEN TREASURE
Sometimes it does not weigh. Does not give off a visible shine. Not something you can hold in your hand. Nor even see with an eye.
Its worth can never be measured. It is more precious than gold. It will never be bought or sold. A rare jewel in a sea of make believe. Something that grows in the heart for the mind to behold.
LOVE is the greatest gift there will ever be. When it is shared in true undying honesty.
If you have never unlocked your heart to let another be a part. Then your missing the hidden treasure that you alone can search for and find.
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YOU SEE ME THROUGH TODAY EYES
You see me through your today eyes. If you had saw me through yesterdays, I would have given a different reflection. I never knew that as time past by my path would take this direction.
My dearest Bob and I were married sixty years. We parented but only one son. Who died for the freedoms of this country. Oh, how my eyes filled with tears.
Gave birth to a daughter little Mary Jane. We called her ailment by another name back then. In today's world she is special. She never even learned to say her name.
Bob left me sometime ago. I am now in my house all alone. One day soon I will join him in our permanent home.
But, today I am still needed in this world. To visit that special lady who use to be my little girl.
I hope you do not see me as a burden. For I can not buy both medicine and food. My social security check pays the bills and I stretch it as far as I can. I am very thankful for my little food stamp card and your helping hand.
My back is crooked and my knees are weak. It is not for your pity that I seek.
I worked hard for many a year at that sewing plant. I just wanted to say thank you for pitching in. Without that food stamp card to survive in today's world well, I just can't.
Try to view me in yesterday's eyes if you can. When it was I delivering to another my helping hand.
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RED BIRD TELLS IT LIKE IT IS!
Red bird, red bird what do you see? I see all those human things and they greatly disturb me!
At first it was just those electric wires that we sometimes sit upon. Us birds accepted them, used them and soon stopped wishing they were gone.
Now, cell phone towers that send great signals of many. That interrupts our flight, makes us sick and taken the life from some like me yes, plenty.
You humans are never satisfied with what you have today. Always changing the atmosphere and our environment with your dangerous ways.
Red bird, red bird I never knew these terrible afflictions we have done to you. Well, if I had arms instead of wings. I would beat you over the head with your own shoes!
Soon enough you will cause us all to be gone. Then who will chirp you all our beautiful songs?
Human, human what do you see when you look at me? Something that holds no great importance in this world! When we are gone you will suffer just wait and see.
Bugs, bugs everywhere. I hope they crawl all in your head and eat your hair. Stop your sky inventions, leave our world alone. So that in peace we can fly through OUR air!
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OFFSPRING
No matter the species that we are. We love our offspring and nurture them, care for them, keep them near not far.
They enter this world so helpless and depending. Needing our every attention and by nature that is what our instincts are sending.
To help us grow and learn. Until the time we leave the nest, home, den or where ever we dwell. Our best and safe keeping is for what our parents do yearn.
Our tiny feet they place on the right path. Giving us all the knowledge of what they hath.
There is nothing more precious to see. Than those little small versions of you and of me.
Tiny creatures that sprang from our own being. That is why we love and our hearts do surely melt at first glance of those baby faces we are seeing.
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A DAY AT THE LAKE
Coolers filled with food and drink. Chairs that fold and sunscreen bottles to keep the skin white not pink.
Floats inflated lay above the water. With temperatures peaking eighty-five not much colder nor hotter.
Charcoal and matches to light the grill. Children's cups with sippy tops so as not to spill.
Splashing, swimming and diving off the old wooden dock. Many there do gather and flock.
On a warm Summer's day to relax and unwind. A day at the park to with family spend some happy time.
Some passing boats create incoming waves. An occasional fish is caught, cleaned and saved.
Later to be topped with Tauter sauce upon the paper plate where it will lay. Oh yes, these are the good times making worthwhile memorial days.
And when the daylight hours begin to fade and the park gates soon will close. All exit the park one-by-one. Some despite the sunscreen leave with a little pink atop the tip of their little nose.
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LIKE A SNAKE IN THE GRASS
Like a snake in the grass he crawls away. Only after he has stalked and eaten his unaware prey.
With his belly full and his action complete. It will be sometime before he needs to hunt again. He returns to his quiet lonely seat.
There he will stay until another hunger grows deep within. Then on the prowl he will crawl yet again.
Bringing destruction and pain to another lonely soul. With victim in sight off with forked tongue and poison fangs slithering on thin belly he went.
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BETTY FORD ALPINE GARDENS
Betty Ford Alpine Gardens in Vail Colorado is a most beautiful sight. No matter visiting at the break of day or the closing of dusk at night.
Located in the central Rocky Mountains within the resort town which attracts a global audience. For its snow capped mountains and ski trails. It is the highest elevation botanical gardens in the world.
A walk through the gardens that scale upward crossing bridges and treading over rock. Varieties of birds can be viewed as to this place they fly in flock.
To gather with humans and wildlife in breathtaking views. All because of Betty Ford and her great love for Vail Valley. This place she thought so dear, that she with family returned for vacation year after year.
Go ahead you come too. To breathe in mother natures fresh breath and take in her wondrous views!
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THE STRONG, THE PROUD, THE FEW!
Bald Eagle oh how you soared. From state to state and shore to shore.
Your feathered brave wings now to this place, makes journey yet again to appear before our stunned face.
You the powerful symbol of the US of A. Yes, the strength of the red, white and the blue. The proud, the strong, the few!
Time its self has proved. That with great stealth and pure glory your kind pulled through.
Eyes more keen than any human has ever with seen. Much smarter than the average bird. With your high-pitched cry and sharp tipped beak. It is your native prey that you once again seek.
A nest that tops the tree and holds the young that you serve and protect. Never no never, would you fly away and neglect.
From state to state and shore to shining shore. Spread your wings and fly free oh yes, forever more!
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THEY CALLED US SAVAGE?
We, the Cherokee people are proud, intelligent and highly spiritual. Having deep respect for the land we wasted nothing. Today, we are fine artists in basket weaving, pottery, bead work and carving. Us, the Great Cherokee Nation was once the largest of all Southern tribes with an estimated population of 25,000 prior to the arrival of European explorers.
Upon their landing ashore. They called us savage. Changed our world and stole our land forever more.
Many a blood bath our people endured. Our weapons could not match the white mans kind. Killing all that stood in their way, too many of us for sure!
Women and children's lifeless bodies lay slaughtered on the cold hard ground. Yet, the Cherokee never gave up always standing firm and proud.
That pride can still be felt today. Within an Indian Reservation in the mountains of North Carolina where we still roam. It is the only place that bears any resemblance of our long ago home.
Other than another that to this day still resides in Oklahoma. Our Great Cherokee Nation that the white man almost brought to complete and utter desolation!
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BATTLE CRIES
"With skin the color of copper and hair as dark as night. The enemy approaches to destroy our people. We will not turn tail. We shall stand tall and fight.
Having our bare brave chest inflated and brightly colored bird feathers a top our head. By the great strength of our young warriors the mighty battle will be lead.
The white man comes to steal what we have left of our proud home. Many of us will fall never to rise again, except in spirit. Let them hear our battle cries our people will not die alone.
Their treaties may be alright for men who are too old to hunt or fight. As for me, I have my young warriors about me. We will hold our land by their great might.
Written in honor of Chief Dragging Canoe, (Cherokee)."
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THE NIGHT SHIFT
He heard the squeaking of the door. As she attempted to softly open it, returning home from work once more.
Just another night at the club. To entertain the gentlemen who sit eyeing her beautiful dance. With money in one hand and the other holding a glass of suds.
She has told him quite some time ago. A new profession she would find and this one not much longer would he have to swallow.
With every passing day his anger and spite doth grow. For his lady to so many a gent, does nightly her body show.
No return calls as of yet. On either interview that she has sought and went. With a quick change into proper clothing and shoes. Off to obtain a new occupation by his sharpness of voice she is sent.
Her body has always gave her great support. Through a healthy diet and an active life style. Many a lovely outfit of every sort.
Revealing clothing that clings to her perfect form. To dress provocative to her is really quite the norm.
Finally the call comes that ends the nightly dance. It will be behind a desk she sits, giving a heavy sigh and reading the rules and requirements. She realizes this may be her marriages last chance.
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MABRYS MILL (THE GHOST OF THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS)
I stand as a reminder of the past from so long ago. A time when things were much different. My ways of life today's generations will never know.
If you listen carefully to my history and look upon it with your eyes. You will hear and see my beauty of time gone bye.
My turning water wheel can take you backwards in time. To an era when days were more simple. No over-sized markets nor humans forming long lines.
People survived on buy, sell and trade. Using the crops they grew, farm animals or the products they hand made.
Children's playful laughter rang through this clean mountain air. Enjoying the simpler ways of life without too much worry or care.
No great addictions did these old-time people share. Travel was made by horse and buggy or on foot here and everywhere.
Step up a little closer and get a better glimpse of me. For I am the ghost of human ways that long ago past and this is all you will ever see of me.
I am a reminder of life some time ago. See me, hear me, so that today's generations my past they may know.
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HE THINKS HE\'S A PEACOCK!
He spreads his bright colors of blue, green, yellow and white. Struts his male ego, refuses his great beauty and self-made pride, from others to hide.
To himself he draws a multitude of curious birds. In wonder of what is this dance and why the strangest of sounds they heard.
He never gives them a listen. Although he has their greatest attention. Just continues his ritual dance. To let them speak, they haven't a chance.
For he, this great and wonderful bird. He himself is the only one deserving to be heard.
The gathering of flock, does stand in awe. Beneath his babbling, ranting and raving, the other birds speak true and freely of what they saw.
He is only an over-sized ugly duckling, flapping his uncolored feathers. With puffed up spotted chest, he who is plainest of all, dances alone in the hottest of weather.
In his bird-sized mind. He is the biggest, boldest,, smartest fowl within this massive flock, that any other may find.
Sometimes viewing yourself through preconceived eyes. The truest reflection of ones self, to others you can never hide.
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THE FOREST GIANTS
Do not allow the large bulky weight of my body draw you to the wrong conclusion. I can run with great speed. As fast as lightning, I can bring you down to your knees.
My claws are razor sharp and long. I bite with overwhelming power, my jaws are just that strong.
With my keen smell and ears that hear your feet thump the ground. Enter my world with respect and the understanding that it is here in this forest that I am found.
I rarely attack without good cause. Used for digging and upon the flesh of my natural prey are my claws.
My musky breath is not alluring. Many years your kind we have been enduring.
We see our forest shrinking fast. How much longer in peace do you think our meetings can last?
Time will tell if we can continue to co-exist. Us with our amazing speed and you with your rifles who rarely miss.
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MY OPEN BOOK
We are each and everyone riding the wave of time. Spending each moment to fulfill some purpose. Our lives are an open book for others to read. Few words written are perfectly clear. While most are like that of a twisted rhyme.
Needing to be sorted and placed in perfect order. So that our true meaning another soul may find. What we do and say is always present and part of our past. We can truly never leave them behind.
Turning from one page to the next with a clear slate to start each day. We record each one as we go along life's busy way.
At the end when our book is complete and we ride the wave of life no more. What will be in view? What to others did we store?
Our past, present and future will be seen much like looking through an open door. We will be stored in someone's memory oh yes, forever more.
I ride the wave through heartaches and mistakes. Hoping that before I close my book, I can make all things right for my pasts sake.
While riding the wave, my imperfections you will clearly see. But, I ask for forgiveness for all while stooping down lowly upon my bended knee.
So that while reading my open book, although my mistakes will be in full view. It will be stored in memory that I ask for forgiveness from even you.
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SILENT ANGEL
Beneath the sky. Yet, above the earth.
Seeking for that which they lost. To find the way, their soul at cost.
Never to be seen. Only in invisibility do they intervene.
Always there to help lift you up. They hear your plea. In your darkest times of need.
Helping without the slightest of touch. To a simple soul in need, their silent, solace spirit will rush.
If you feel a calm wind pass and the trees give no sway. It just may be that a silent angel was sent to help and just flew by your way.
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TWO GO TOGETHER
We were so much alike. My best friend and I, much time we spent side by side. We decided to leave home and from our fathers go on strike.
Her dad was an alcoholic, not much of a father you see. My dad was just mean, unbearable, and the worst a father could be.
We had heard about this place of which to go and hide. Together we went on the school bus, to hitch a ride.
After school we loaded the bus but, not to our usual stop. On a different route, once reaching our destination as planned, off the bus we did hop.
We followed the directions as we had been told. We found the little cabin way off the road.
We had left with just the clothes on our back. We had not taken even an over night sack.
It was a cold Winters day. But, from our plan we would not sway.
There were cots upon which to lay. Sleeping bags we did find, so we cuddled up and agreed to stay.
No food had we taken. We fell asleep and by hunger we were later awakened.
There was running water of which to drink. We spend our time talking and began to think.
Without food what would we do? We should have thought of that before and this we knew.
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Low and behold the door was opened. Another friend appeared to bring a morsel of food, they must have heard our hoping.
(This would be the only meal we ate)
Their stay was short but, provided a need for her and I. We shared our stories of our bad home life and we started to cry.
That cabin was our home for only a few short days. We had been discovered and forced to go our separate ways.
To this day I remember and think of her often, my best friend. She decided to stick with me till the very end!
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A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN
Clear, clean sparkling water, like a slow moving looking glass. Catching every movement, all the images as they pass.
The gold peaked mountains that stand and tip the sky. While still laying below projected by the natural mirror to bring pleasure to our human eye.
The heavily loaded branches of the Colorado Spruce that magically grow within these solid rocks. If you look closely you can still see the remnants of winter in the height of shady spots.
Such beauty, hard to another compare. This little piece of heaven on earth, most lovely and rare.
Wild, untamed, one of a few left on earth. Towering mountains, deep valleys, surely a sight to behold with it's untouchable worth.
The Rocky Mountains of Vail Colorado, one of the unique places of all. Draped in the beauty of nature through spring, summer, winter and fall.
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A TRIP UP NORTH
Wishing all my friends the best, as I may not be on for a while. Good luck to all with your poetry.
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A LIGHT HOUSE FOREVER MORE
I,ve flew away. No longer trapped in a body by disability or permanent delays.
Given a new being and an everlasting brilliant mind. That will never dim or darken with time.
I now own my new voice. Having the opportunity to reveal only my choice.
Shed no tears in sadness when you think of me. I have not left you. For you are still within me permanently.
All the years of my constant need and care. I know now to you were neither heavy or burdensome, it was your great love and selflessness you shared.
Those glasses that once were bound upon my face. Only now a memory that will soon too be erased.
My stumbling steps and slow motions. Have gave way to flight and blissful emotions.
At each turn I take. I am forever grateful for all my well-being decisions you struggled to make.
Oh dear precious mother of mine. Do you not know that one day before too very long. You will clasp my hand and hold it tight until no end of time.
Here there are no turning hands of the clock. No hard life knocks.
Not a care in the world. For that world has passed by.
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So remember me. You who loved me most. Dry that silent tear from your eye. When you think of me please do not cry.
I shall never release a single tear. Here time is not measured in years. Before my cloud makes a complete travel round eternity. I will see you in your new glorious beauty approaching me, near.
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ANNA BELLE LEE
Anna Belle Lee, my Anna Belle Lee. Your beauty is rare and your name rolls off my tongue like a wave releasing from the sea.
With skin the color of bronzed satin. Aboard this cursed ship you sashay to button and latch down the Hattin.
Rough storms lay just ahead. Remember that this night while resting your head on the pillow of my pirate bed.
Oceans foam swells higher with each roll of the angry tide. Not a thing have you covered nor a nights trip into town did you ever hide.
Strange hands have left their print on your tanned glow. That masculine scent is familiar but, not mine and I know.
Another man has laid under your spell. No one, no one like you my sweet Anna Belle Lee. Can build it nor cast it, only you hold that potion and you wear it well.
My treasure has been found and shared once again by another. The freedoms I allowed you in this year of 1733. Hath cost by my hands the life of my blood brother
Shackles and chains shall bind your pretty hands and your loose feet. Yet, not another poor soul shall feel death at my grip. By anguish that only you my wicked love Anna Belle Lee can bring and deliver by a poison kiss from your sweet lips.
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