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Poetry Contest (2011)

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Joined: 2009-08-17
A Gesture of Love

Along the river where I strolled
I met a handsome man so bold,
With raven hair and eyes of blue
And stature to be found in few.

He took a knee upon our greeting
And bowed to me a Knightly greeting.
With words of charm he softly spoke,
Thus all my reservations broke.

He took my hand and looking on
He pressed his warm red lips upon
The hand of mine, which he did touch
which melted my dear heart so much.

He pulled me down upon his knee
And coming closer I could see
The passion which his heart did carry
And in that moment we did tarry.

The touching of his lips to mine
Brought thoughts of eros love divine,
And with these thoughts within my head,
I woke to find me in my bed.

copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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The Song in your Heart

I remember a dream in which I played the part
of someone who tuned all the strings of your heart.
For hearts were the instruments, part of a band
which held all the music of life in their hand.
I would turn every key to tighten each string
adjusting the pitch to the sound it would bring.

I was told every heart had its own special song
and the Mistro would know where each one would belong.
So I focused attention on tuning each string,
so anxious to hear all the music they’d bring.
The players all gathered and soon took there places
With looks of expectancy upon there faces.

The strings of lifes web were all plucked from above
and were sending down rhapsodies flowing with love,
and the reverberations were filling the place
with symphonies floating through time and through space.
Then I heard a sweet voice that was lovingly saying
“ My children are part of the music I’m playing”.

Copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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A Spirits Dream

Once in a dream, a Spirit form stood
and it beckoned me into a mystical wood.
So I followed it in, I answered its’ call,
for the Spirit had promised to soon reveal all
of the answers to questions I held in my heart,
of why I was here and what was the part
that I was to play in this spiritual quest
and what was the point of this mystical test.

Ethereal mist was shrouding the face
of the Spirit which drew me to enter this place.
Onward we traveled, ‘til deep in the wood
the Spirit form halted and there we both stood.
It turned round to face me and to my surprise
I found myself staring into my own eyes
I had followed my Self, yet only to find
the dream I was having was all in my mind.

The answers to all of my questions were clear
to what was my purpose and why I was here.
Awakening now to the Truth of my Being.
This body of light and love I was seeing
was all that I was ,or ever would be
and as the mist lifted I clearly could see
that my purpose was learning to walk in the light
and to pull back the veil from humanity’s sight,
so others could wake and join the transition.
This was my purpose and love was my mission.

copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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The "Me"

That part which calls its self the “Me”
Is not a part which one can see
But ego, in reality,
A physical illusion.

A Soul which holds that special part
Of Spirit deep within its heart
Is where reality will start,
Dispelling all confusion.

The Spirit does not testify
To stand alone as a separate “I”,
But always seeks to unify,
To wake “Me” from delusion.

Connected by a quantum string
To this and that and everything
A power that’s endeavoring
Infinity’s infusion.

Copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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The Choice

In light of all the ancient ones
And what they had to say.
The roads of time may bend their course
And change our present day.

They spoke of three great shakings,
And two have come to be.
The third great shaking still to come
remains a mystery.

Now we can chose the broken path
That leads to “end of days”,
Or we can take the level one
remembering Sacred ways.

The way we use our bodies
and the way we use our powers,
determine what the future brings,
of course the choice is ours.

We can decide the outcome,
and we can declare it so,
and consciously with prayer
show the future where to go.

To birth a new and better world
for all who are involved,
despite the horrid prophecies,
we’d have the problem solved.

Copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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More than Words can Say

If I could only tell you just how much you mean to me.
If I could put my feelings into words with clarity,
describing all the love I feel, precisely without fail
and all of the emotions that my longings do entail,
I’d write a sonnet just for you and place it in your heart
So you would always have it even when we were apart.

If words could be my paint brush and the sky my canvas be
I’d paint my love across the sky for all the world to see.
Tenderly my brush of words would bring my love to bear
and without shame I’d show the world how much I truly care.
With colors of the sunset , the mountains and the sea
I’d paint for you a masterpiece and sign it lovingly.

But I cannot express to you
the love within my soul.
The love I hold inside for you
I simply must control.
To you it’s just a friendship, devoid of loves appeal.
For you are unaware of the emotions that I feel.
So I will just continue
to dream of what could be
if you would ever recognize
the love for you in me.

Copyright 2011 Lois Clark

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"Friends"

Neither hail nor sleet,
neither rain nor snow,
can keep me from,
the friends i know.

Neither dark of night,
or bright of day,
can make me lost,
or lose my way.

I come with good tidings
of joy and cheer,
to eat your food,
and drink your beer.

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"Harmony"

Twilight sparkles on the
horizon as a dog barks
down the street.

All the shades are drawn,
in rows of
symetrical beat.

Crickets chirp in harmony
as the night pulls down
its curtain.

Tomorrow is a brand new day,
for this i'm told is certain.

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"Spirit of Christmas"

He sat alone under a tall pine tree,
Wishing the passerby all clothed and
warm was he.

Cold and hungry he sits all alone,
wanting this Christmas,
a warm and happy home.

He digs in his pocket and pulls out
his last quarter.
A little boy passes by and as he gives him the coin, he says Merry Christmas.
Bigger is he for being the shorter.

The little boy took the money and cried
with delight,
He ran away saying,
Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

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"The Call Of The Wild"

Warm and glowing, fiery hot and bright,
shines the coals from the campfire light.
The wind blows south, from the northern plains,
I sit and wonder about the coming winter rains.

The owls hoot out their calls,
to neighboring friends across the falls.
The fish in the water splash in glee tonight,
to the mystery of the wind and the fading light.

The smoke of the fire brings tears to my eyes,
As night draws its curtain, i sit and listen to its sweet lullaby.

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"Freedom"

Water on a distant shore
rolls upon the sand,
Its waves are breaking,
breaking on the land.

The misty spray covers me
as i walk along,
Mud between my toes, and
humming a cheerful song.

The sun does warm my back,
and butterflies float free,
to the echo of the waves
and the calm and sultry breeze.

Fly free and be faithful,
and turn the other cheek,
For my child, this is to be,
the truth, that ye must seek.

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landscape, dusk

The night is coming, slowly,
as long as a parson's speech.
The fields are reticent and cling
to the fading sun like addicts.
It's too soon to give it up.

The trees shake,
a breeze whispers some gossip
about the dark to them, girlish anticipation quakes through their leaves.

The sheep raise their
coin slot eyes to the sky,
seeing, but not seeing,
knowing enough to disapprove
of the field's actions.

The daytime sky has given up,
shackled and shuffling
toward its inevitable conclusion.

The night may be a blanket, though,
not a chloroform-soaked rag.
If the fields can kick the habit,
the trees can get their facts straight,
the sheep can share their knowledge, and if
the daytime sky gets off for good behavior,
darkness' half nelson just might
turn out to be a warm embrace.

The night a time for flights of fancy, until
the bright dawn arrives young and fresh
to kiss her dark brother on the cheek, and
kick start the day's engine once again.

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Shirley Hodge

DÉJÀ VU

I hear the crickets singing in the meadow
I smell the lilac flowers by the door
I see the puffs of fog rolling down the lane
and know that I have been this way before.

I hear the mournful horn of the lighthouse on the cape
I smell the salty brine wafting off the sea
I see a canopy of stars shining up above
and know that I have been this way before.

I hear the endless raucous of the city’s asphalt streets
I smell the pungent bodies of the people that I meet
I see the towering buildings throwing shadow over all
and know that I have been this way before.

I hear the choir singing high up in the loft
I smell the incense burning down below
I see the open coffin and recognize the face
and know that I have been this way before.

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Joined: 2011-03-31
Garden Of Life

As the warm spring rain washes away
The cold gray clouds of the last winters day
Thunder and lighting,glorious storm
All of the wonder bringing life's new form
As nature brings forth with pure delight
All it has stored from the long winter night
The clean fresh flavors of flowers in bloom
Washed by the sunlight of a full summer moon
Gather these days from this garden of life
Like fruit from the trees as the hummingbird Flies
It all comes full circle begining to end
Resting a moment to move on with the wind

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Shirley Hodge

THE LITTLE ENGINEER

I saw a busy spider climbing up my bedroom wall
she was so very tiny she was hardly there at all.

Watching her I knew there was a purpose to it all
she was looking for the perfect spot upon the bedroom wall

Browsing here and turning there, no place seemed just right
finally, I grew weary and turned off the ceiling light.

Came dawn and I awoke to a room sunshine bright
to discover that my spider had passed a busy night

For there in the corner its strands as white as milk
hung a lovely webish home made of spider silk.

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This is lovely! I love the

This is lovely! I love the imagery!!

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Joined: 2009-08-07
I love your spider poem, it

I love your spider poem, it is so sweet. However, I have to say, you are braver than I am, as I would have been awake all night watching that the spider didn't land on me! :-)

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poem: Wait

This is an acrostic poem. The first letter of each line is the topic of the poem.

Wall that stretches tall and wide
All-encompassing in its breadth
Indistinct but solid barricade
Time moves on but I stand still

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Star Dust

You and I as well as all we trod upon or cast an eye upon are the sons and daughters of suns and stars long gone.

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Joined: 2009-08-07
so true, and very nicely put.

so true, and very nicely put.

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Joined: 2009-10-01
Shirley Hodge

AGAIN - Shirley Hodge

Hear the drums banging!

Hear the horns blowing!

They sound the call to war!

Weary old men could not see eye to eye
so all the young men must go off to die.

Shattered bodies writhing in pain,
will rouse the nation’s fears again.

Bright shiny medals in black leather cases,
white marble crosses and flag covered boxes.

Fatherless children fearing tomorrow,
young widows in black living in sorrow.

Missiles and bullets will once more fly,
because weary old men could not see eye to eye

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Shirley Hodge

THE LUNCH GROUP – Shirley Hodge

On alternate Friday’s, just about noon
the girls of old Wellesley would lunch at the Spoon.

Rebecca and Helen came in a cab
Susan and Abby would come on the bus
Sarah and Margaret walked down from the lab
they all arrived promptly without any fuss.

This they did for thirty odd years
calling themselves the old Wellesley Dears.

Abby passed first on a cold winter’s night
and the group lunched without her but it didn’t feel right.
Then the years rolled by in rapid succession
and the group became smaller by natural progression
till Margaret , at eighty, was the only Dear left.

She went that last Friday to just say goodbye
and give Selma, the owner a small parting gift.
After dessert, a baked apple in fact
they gave her a hug and she went on her way

She died in her sleep that very same night
the old Wellesley Dears had fought the good fight.

The Spoon is closed up now – all barren and gray
but the girls still come down or so some folks say
I’ve never seen them but I will tell you this
there are six chairs inside there without any dust.

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Snow

I like snow, that is really true, when it comes in the winter, when it’s actually due.
I wouldn’t like it in summer or spring, that would not be a very good thing.
But even though I like snow, I’ve had enough and wish it would go.
My roads are icy, my house is cold, the snow is enveloping me in a frozen mold
My bones are creaking my limbs always shake; I need a little warmth to stop my body-quake.
But alas, this will not be the perpetual norm, for soon it will be spring and the weather will turn warm.

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Trnsitions

A MATTER OF TASTE – Shirley Hodge

Tall stalks of corn bend in the wind
white wispy clouds drift overhead
bees sing their songs in fields of green clover
robins tend nests in the maple tree's cover.

Off in the distance a train whistle blows
and the scent of the loam arrives as the nose
the creak of the windmill spinning above
answers the call of the snowy white dove.

In the neat little garden the vegetables sprout
while the strawberry patch sends long suckers out
the apple tree bends with the heft of its fruit
and the new planted roses are just taking root.

These things I remember from days long ago
before they paved over the green land below
there are slick, shiny stores where things used to grow
and cars by the thousands all in a row.

But it seems to me as I view this new vision
that we've lost something grand in the latest transition
instead of the beauty of Mother Earth's bosom
we're stuck with a cancer of man's absurd wisdom.

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So ... That's a cow, right?

Hi! I'm 76 years old and have written humor for many years. I hope my sillies don't offend more serious writers. Thanks.

NO MILK TODAY, SLICKEROO;
BUT HER PRESSURE’S TIP-TOP!

A slicker from the city
Saw a farmer ‘neath a cow
With a bucket On the gentle green
of Cheshire

He asked him, “Are you milking??”
And the farmer grinned, “Not now
Twice a day I like to check her pressure!”

Dr. Ron

C: 2010 - http://worlds-premiere-ransom-note-factory.us/

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Sillies

I am 75 and gave up writing poetry in my 20's to raise a family now they are off living their own lives and giving me granddaughters. What this world needs is more sillies and less cerumudegeons

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Make sure they're properly wrapped!

MAKE DOGGONED SURE
THE SOIL IS GROUNDED!

Storms are predicted
With chaos inflicted
And resources bound to be tapped

The thunder, it’s said
Will awaken the dead
So make certain they’re properly wrapped!

Dr. Ron

C: 2010 - http://worlds-premiere-ransom-note-factory.us/

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In a wee hometown like mine!

THE NEAREST BIG TOWN
IS BIDDLEBUNK JUNCTION

In a hometown like mine
So wee tiny little
Progress can be a real load

In order to paint
A white line down the middle
We had to widen the road!

Dr. Ron

C: 2010 - http://worlds-premiere-ransom-note-factory.us/

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Avoiding Back Pain!

INSIGHTS FOR RUGGED
COUNTRY LIVING

You will see when you sway
As you lift the wrong way
A lesson that quickly
Will learn ya

To plan an attack
That does NOT use your back
You balance the load
On your hernia!

Dr. Ron

C: 2010 - http://worlds-premiere-ransom-note-factory.us/

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Joined: 2011-03-29
~Dear Baby~

I wrote this poem when I was 6 1/2 months pregnant. We had a hard time conceiving at first so we felt soo blessed when we found out! It was our first baby and my husband wanted to keep the sex of the baby a surprise!! A surprise that inspired this poem and that later became the greatest gift of our lives :)

Dear Baby,

You were once nothing more than a dream....of hope.

You were once no bigger than a grain of rice.

You were once nothing more than a flickering light in my tummy.

You were once just a picture in black in white....but I already loved you.

I couldn't believe that we created something that was half him and half me.

I couldn't feel you and I wasn't showing, but I knew you were there.

I couldn't understand how in one week you grew 3 times bigger than the week before.

I couldn't fathom that one day you would actually have your own personality.....but I already loved you.

Then I started dreaming of you.

Then I could feel you moving around in my belly.

Then you became as big as a bottle of water.

Then you could hear my voice, even though I couldn't hear yours.....but I already loved you!

Now I imagine if you will have my eyes or have his smile.

Now I see my stomach growing everyday and I rub it in amazement.

Now you are big enough to suck your lil thumb and I try to picture if you are a boy or girl.

Now I can only wonder if you will be happy, healthy, smart or beautiful....but I already love you.

By: Vienna Jimenez (AKA Mommy)

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Silent Night

Silent Night

As I trudge along through the onslaught of white,
my ears are attuned to the hush surrounding me.
Quiet hush, as flakes descend and gently blanket the horizon,
slowly piling higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

Here and there the silence is broken by the cheerful
banter of a chickadee, the chirp of a cardinal.
Hoof prints cross my path, their creator having
stealthily moved between the thickets.
A tiny trail of minute footprints weave a trail from
one clump of wispy vegetation to another.

The grasses, beaten by the weather, yet flying dried blades,
appearing as battle flags proceeding a mighty force
preparing for the fray before them.

The maples and oaks stand sentinel duty,
reaching their limbs in praise to God
through the flakes, cradled by the wind,
slowly, effortlessly pirouetting to the earth.

The pine, dark, laden as it were with cotton batting,
sways in the breeze, occasionally shrugging off a burden of powder
only to again gather a new batch upon its boughs.

So quiet, yet so alive,
God’s creation calling forth His praise,
ever upon this Silent Night.
Steve Roberts

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Ebony Fingers

Ebony fingers, like earth
seeking splendor in the pale new grass
linger just above, and slightly
east of Eden's need.
Plucking a long ago song
with scalpel proficiency
removing years from memory
as easily as strings from an old instrument
no longer played.
And the hand was on my hand again;
my heart a sinking boulder of fear.
The dew faded, and the pale blades wept and bent
into the shape of
a wish.

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Poetry contest

Passing– Shirley Hodge

At water’s edge on a warm summer’s night
the moon rises high and casts its cool light.

Frogs on the shoreline begin their night chorus
rippling gusts rattle leaves in the forest.

Wavelets of water slap at the shore
the squeaking of bats fills the night air once more.

A gray owl hoots in the oak tree out back
night beasts meander and I hear a twig crack.

Fire lights the dark at the camp cross the bay
and their bugler blows Taps as they close up their day.

Lights start to twinkle in the vault overhead
as mothers are calling their children to bed.

I sit on this pier while the light fades away
onwards to morning and a newly hewn day.

Although I know that this night must pass
I find myself saddened these moments won’t last.

One thing I’ve learned and I know it for sure
time will not stop on its mandated tour.

Nor let us repeat even one special hour
nor let us revive even one wilted flower.

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Poetry contest

WHO AM I? – Shirley Hodge

From my womb, the expectation of tomorrow:
I am life giver.

From my heart, the shape of the ages:
I am sculptress.

From my mind, the lore of the millennium:
I am teacher.

From my eyes, the vision of tomorrow:
I am advocate.

From my ears, the music of the air:
I am listener.

From my spirit, the covenant of endurance:
I am guide.

I am mother.
I am woman.
I am redemption.

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What She Wants

I've got two legs hangin off of the bed
I got a doggie here wantin to be fed

What she wants is some lovin
So I have to give in to what she's wantin

Love to know we are cared for
So where do we find it I want some more

Life is about findin the ones we want to keep
And puttin the ones away that make us weep

If I gotta shake da dirt from my shoes
To get rid of thier blues

My search keeps me goin
And my blood a flowin

Now I got an idea and where it came from
I do believe is from another kingdom

I don't believe it's just my imagination
But something from our first and final destination

If this world turns around on it's own accord
It just can't be without our Lord

The flowers are a blumin and trees are green
And with our eyes this force is seen

If I can't see this I must be blind
Cause every mornin I wake up it's somethin I must find

Every beat of my heart my world will start
With the hope in knowing that I am a part

This idea of energy from God above
And the beauty of this thing called Love

God Bless You All and for Eternity
Kenneth D. Marshall

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Reading

DISCOVERIES – Shirley Hodge

The world became mine one day long ago,
all things that were known I to could now know.

I could hear long dead voices tell stories of life
I could know all the gallants when dragons were rife.

The wisdom of ages became mine, and more
I could now resurrect an ancient day’s lore.

I could travel the world with inquiring explorers
sharing adventures, and unknown terrors.

I could roam great palaces and humble abodes
find out about horses and whales and toads.

I could learn how to cook and build me a house
how to master a cello or wash a silk blouse.

I could know all the science the geniuses knew
could decide for myself what I thought was true.

And how did I manage this masterful deed?

It’s really quite simple I learned how to read.

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Poetry contest

REJECTION – Shirley Hodge

When the clock chimes twelve at the midnight hour
and the pace of the day becomes very much slower,
in the dark, I sit back in my big rocking chair
and await the shy creatures that I know are there.

Their shadows grow long then melt into the dark
when day does arrive they’ve left nary a mark
but I know in that world without any light
they live out their lives under cover of night.

I have tried to gain entry to that other domain
to see if the darkworld is different from mine
but for some silent reason I don’t understand
I seem not to be welcome in their shadowland.

So I have decided what I’m going to do
I’ll just ignore them and tell them to shoo
as I turn on the light and send them away
and return to my world in the lightness of day.

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Poetic justice - sort of.

ME AND THEE – By Shirley Hodge

Look in a mirror and what do you see?

A face looking back that you call Me,

memories of yesterdays long since past

layered deep within the glass

hopes and dreams strewm all around

waiting and wishing – yet to be found

and there are those thoughts you will not name

the hidden things which brought you shame

off in a corner where you’d rather not look

are the demons and terrors of midnight’s nook

all of these things make up what is you

to ignore or deny them or think them untrue

is not very likely to work, you see

for the person reflected will always be thee!

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Cyber Age

ESMERELDA AND I – Shirley Hodge

It really can’t think, I know to be true
its just metal and plastic and silicon to,

But with the click of the mouse the world is mine
to look at, to search in, to see what I can find,

I have access to stores and whatever I want
and morning and night I can find a good chat,

I meet many people from far away places
from all the religions and countries and races,

The very best minds are mine to explore
artists and scientists and so many more,

From LA to London and NY to Hong Kong
millions and millions now come along,

Expanding our minds on this cyber highway
will make tomorrow a far better day,

And while I am sure we’re just at a beginning
like a world wide ball game in the very first inning,

It is quite exciting to log onto the net
Esmerelda my puter and I are all set.

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Adventure Calls

ANOTHER ROOM – Shirley Hodge

I came upon a path one day that led into the wood
it started at the meadow’s edge in front of where I stood
covered with the detritus and droppings of last fall
it was really hard to know if it were truly there at all.

Standing in the meadow the world is bright and clear
wildflowers bloom, rabbits run and birdsong I can hear
but just a step away is a world where shadows dwell
where mysteries and muses cast a melancholy spell.

Now why, I thought, would anyone leave
this warm and light washed place
to walk along a path into a gray and unknown space
yet something in my spirit bade me walk into that wood
even as my prudent mind questioned if I should.

Once inside I understood that it was just another room
where swaying muted light drew mosaics in the air
and the canopy above my head shut out the sun’s bright glare
now, ever since that time, when I find an unknown space
it beckons to my spirit/heart to enter its embrace.

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I See

I SEE

The soft skin...
of a newborn child.

The firm warmth...
of the brown earth.
The light of ten...
thousand suns.

Precious jewels...
glistening on the water.

The feather touch...
of the winds fingers.
The fragile flowers...
lingering scent.

The hard awesome...
mountains.

I see you...
I see God...
I see me.

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Empty Nests

THE EMPTY NEST – Shirley Hodge

Little girl voices sweet and clear
little boy voices loud and dear.

Where have all the children gone?

Jump rope coiled on the lawn
red wagon parked in the drive
dogs, kittens, white mice.

Where have all the children gone?

Pick-up baseball on the corner lot
sled runner tracks in the snow
sneakers, loafers, dirty socks.

Where have all the children gone?

Birthday cakes with candles
Christmas trees with angels
soda pop, hot dogs, candy bars.

Where have all the children gone?

Yo-Yo contests in the school yard
books taken home with a library card
charm bracelets, grass snakes, Frisbees.

Where have all the children gone?

A broken arm hung in a sling
a swollen lip hit by a swing
Sugar Pops, Kool-Aid, Popsicles.

Where have all the children gone?

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Poem

THE GREAT WHITE HUNTERS – by Shirley Hodge

Down by Peck’s Pond on a cold winters day
a big grizzly bear passed by the way,
the guys found the paw prints froze stiff in the snow
and decided right then that he had to go,
though not having seen a really big bear
they figured six against one, there’s be nothing to fear,
they loaded their shotguns and went on their way
following the paw prints till the end of the day.

They set up camp in a gully they found
then decided to have a good look around,
they walked for a while then rose to return
but their trail was now buried in fresh fallen snow
and they had no notion about which way to go,
first they went north, then they went south
then they went east them they went west
then they argued about which way was best,
when off in the distance they heard a loud roar
and figured quite rightly that it was the bear.

Follow the sound they decided was best
so they set off in the dark – generally west,
two hours later, near frozen to death
they came to the camp they had previously left,
the snow was tamped down by the bear’s big feet
and he had devoured what they’d brought to eat,
so they built a big fire and drank melted snow
and laid down to sleep in the ember’s warm glow.

Waking up at the first light of day
they saw the big paw prints leading away
so they packed up the camp to head for home
opting to leave the big grizzly alone.

While wondering how they’d got into this pickle
they heard a low growl sounding just like a chuckle.

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Poem

IN THE SAME BOAT – Shirley Hodge

No matter what your problem
there is always a solution.

No matter what your sorrow
tomorrow will be better.

No matter what your failure
you can start anew again.

No matter what your terror
you can learn to face it down.

The human spirit fills us all
from natal day till the final call.

sunshine or shadow
no matter the weather
you are not alone
we’re all in this together.

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Christmas Long Ago

CHRISTMAS 1943 Shirley Hodge

The men were all gone, far far away
over the water and into the fray
fathers and husbands, lovers and sons
the call to arms took everyone.

Christmas was coming in this snow laden land
not war nor death could stay time’s hand,
the children, not knowing the folly of war
were growing excited over what was in store.

Mothers and aunts and sisters galore
were busy making Christmas once more,
so up went green trees and colored glass balls
holly and mistletoe hung in the halls
but bright shining lights were not to be had
factories made bullets and bombs instead.

Then Mr. Warner, who lived on our street
went door-to-door with a plan they could meet,
he collected the bulbs left from last year
and promised to call with words of good cheer.

At five AM that white Christmas morning
they woke all the children from innocent dreaming
bundled them up against winter’s cold blast
then took them outdoors before the night past.

Amid the strains of Silent Night
Mr. Warner’s big pine tree lit up so bright
the children cried out in startled delight.

Now I look back on the long ago day
and think of the children far, far away
who spent that day in unspeakable fear
who only knew terror with death so near
they died in misery and we did not know
the monsters who killed them did not let it show.

On that Christmas day we did not know the cost
nor the horrible knowledge of what we had lost.

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It isn't over till its over.

579-897-5435
A MISSION – Shirley Hodge

A wind of strength blew in this morning from the east
upon its crystal wings a scent of things undefined.

A wind of strength blew in this midday from the west
upon its crystal wings an essence of painless suffering.

A wind of strength blew in this evening from the north
upon its crystal wings an incense of rapacious flow.

A wind of strength blew in tonight from the south
upon its crystal wings a whiff of indecent death.

oh wind that comes on crystal wings, teach me
that I might be the servant of mankind,

to find the path that, trod upon, allows for no return
so all may walk with noble grace, through tomorrow’s gate.

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To James Mackay

MY PATH - Shirley Hodge

if the world pays me no mind
and leaves me go alone upon my journey
while the gods withhold their gifts
and ignore that I have passed their way,
I care not.

if the sun retreats and hides my path
and takes from me my shadow’s company
while the fire burns bright but gives no heat
and cold winds shroud my weary limbs,
I will walk on.

If the ripened fruit falls from the tree
and maggots feed within before I dine
while waters seep into the sand
so I must go without a cup to drink,
I shall not hesitate.

for now my life, each passing day
is a prophesy of love
that nothing on this whirling orb can fault

you are my destiny
my living breath
and naught but death
can take you from my heart.

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It ain't nice to fool Mother Nature

MILLENNIUM – Shirley Hodge

Millennium have come and gone
the birds still sing their morning song
the stars still shine in black night’s sky
the sun still rises and passes by
the trees still leave at spring’s first call
and burn with color come the fall
eggs are laid and young are born
each and every new hewn morn
the tides still rise against the shore
as they have always done before
mountains cameo against the sky
as clouds puff up and roll on by
rain falls down and snow does too
then comes back to a sky of blue
yet still we find in the heart of man
an attempt to command the sea and land
but nature is and still will rule
and man remains only her fool.

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I Thee Wed...... (wedding Haiku)

Nervously ambling down the aisle
Two lives transformed in three short words
Every bride is beautiful-princesses all...

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Joined: 2009-08-10
2011 Poetry Contest Finalists

We never expected so many entries to our first-ever Poetry Contest. Thank you to all for inspiring the Almanac community!
There were SO many great poems that it was a challenge and very difficult to select the winner. The Almanac editors narrowed the pool of entries several times, and finally selected five finalists.
At this point, we'd like YOUR HELP in selecting an overall winner. Please go to this page:
http://www.almanac.com/content/poetry-contest-finalists-2011

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