Some say they will when they won't.
Some say they do when they don't.
Some say they should when they shouldn't.
Some said they could when they couldn't.
You said you would, but I couldn't.
Everyone said we did when we didn't.
And the meaning now is quite hidden.
by Margaret C. Rigsby
faded into obscurity.
like spirits gone ahead.
while pills dissolve within, to dull emotions grown old.
faded into obscurity.
reaches up into my throat.
when I walk down a country road.
gaze up at the silent mountains around me.
it is the bare essence of my soul.
tears, sweat, and the joy of all my most secret dreams.
through it; not what I have when finished.
that rushes in and fills my questing lungs.
in the world to see that life is also an art.
Was a quaint little town, known as my Bonnie Green.
As they stood in the town slowly scratching their heads.
There was only a sign, but no town to be found.
With little square windows, glowing shiny and bright.
There was only just the stillness, and a small quiet peace.
It lay in the grasses, floating up to the trees.
But whatever it was, it was there all the same.
They wouldn't have questions. They would already know.
I will now relate the tale of this far-away land.
Though he acted quite strange, I don't think he was mad.
With his far-away dreams he saw what was to be.
Well, after some great time, the dreamer raised his head.
He shared with me his tale. He had loved once; he said.
Like many other times, his love wasn't returned.
No matter how painful, inside him, it still burned.
"She was a pretty lass with hair colored like gold.
She had bright azure eyes," I was lovingly told.
She had peaches, and cream in her round dimpled cheeks.
If I hadn't stopped him he'd have praised her for weeks.
How loving Bonnie Green, had been his downfall.
And Bonnie had money, besides beauty and health.
Bonnie had a father, who practiced great power.
She'd choose to wed money, or die in the tower.
All around it a mote, with waters running deep.
Who liked to eat maidens; when they happened to fall.
So, she had to decide, and her choices were few.
She'd be quite unhappy, whatever she should do.
Because our poor Bonnie was afraid of her dad.
Somewhere out in the world was a place he must find.
A place full of promise. A somewhere he could go
To shelter his great love, and allow it to grow.
He said, "this is the place. In my dreams it was seen.
He then took out some wood, and carved on it with love.
I watched him hard at work from my perch high above.
Oh damn. I forgot. Please forgive me. My word!
My name is O'Humphry, an O'sheen Forest bird.
About a lad, a sign, and a love gone forlorn.
Well, back to the story, the lad made him his sign.
It's very clear to me. It said, "My Bonnie Green".
There was never a town, where some people could live.
There was only the love that a lad had to give.
"So, what happened to the lad?" I know that's what you'll say.
Well, he put up his sign, then he went on his way.
But, I do know for sure, he still loves Bonnie Green.
by Margaret C. Rigsby
My mind wanders in directions un-chosen.
upon the white sands.
you are propped on one elbow.
as you grin at me.
salty. I can taste and smell it.
I have escaped reality.
close to mine.
Our eyes are locked in a sensual stare.
meet for the first time.
of desire for you...
causes me to leap from my chair.
Shaking my head, I smile.
Reality is back and the beach is gone.
On the Road to the Sea
We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.
But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes,
I want your life and you will not give it me.
Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.
To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--;
(how vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you are small.
Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best
So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--
Oh! let it rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.
But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)
You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!
No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.
Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.
Charlotte Mew, 1869-1929
Back to top
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart, henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low!
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
Written by: Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Back to top
Wisdom
I believe that I am learning at last
from the mistakes I made in the past.
Little by little understanding grows
about consequences; con's and pro's.
In my anguish I often lashed out
wanting revenge for what came about.
Justifying my actions by my pain
when in fact I had nothing to gain.
Instead I lost a piece of my soul
hurting others and missing the goal.
So I'm counting my blessings as I progress
and refuse to stoop to anything less.
Hopefully evolving to a higher plane
To some this may sound quite insane,
but why else were we given life on earth
than to establish a certain self worth
Through Mozes God gave us 10 crucial laws
And then - after a significant pause -
He sent us His only begotten Son
to show us just how His will be done.
A tough act to follow as we all know.
Mistake upon mistake is what I have to show.
The clue is understanding and trying anew
to do the very best that I can do.
Preaching is easy, the hard part is living;
acknowleging our faults and then forgiving.
Not judging or sentencing those we "hate",
leaving that to God before it's too late.
I'm learning gradually, day by day;
confidant, with God's help, I'll find my way!
Written by: Ellen Francis Bergakker
Back to top
On Inocents
Remembering how it used to be and
the innocents that was
how the child did not for lust or greed
the child just did it because
They felt no fear, no remorse or guilt
how could they be to blame
the child never understood the deed
and did forfeit all the shame
the innocents of not knowing
it servers to protect the young
but it fades away with the growing
while their songs are still unsung
Written by: Perry Ray
Back to top
