I promised I'd stop crying-
I promised never to be blue.
But I never keep promises to myself-
I never do.
I promised that I'd smile again-
Laugh and play again, too.
But I never keep promises to myself-
I never do.
I promised if the sun came up
I'd take control and live.
I'd stop trying to find myself
and just sit back and give.
I'd forget about time
and tomorrow
and all that is new.
But I never keep promises to myself-
I never do.
"My name is Anna," she said to him.
"I'm Antony," said he.
And she secretly eyed the gentleman
as he slowly sipped his tea.
Briefly then, he touched her hand,
As now his empty cup she took-
She laid the tray on the bedside stand
and handed him a nearby book.
"Rest now, Captain Antony.
I'll be back very soon."
And he rose his head to bid farewell
As Anna left the room.
And through the day- in every place-
he saw her eyes, her smile, her face.
The next day Anna bid him stay
till he was no longer ill.
The Baron had long ago passed away
and she was now mistress of the hill.
So every day their eyes would meet
as she nursed him back to new.
Slowly friendship bloomed so sweet-
And then the passion grew.
Till even in his deepest sleep
Anna was at his side-
Each passing moment he sought to keep
love that could not be denied.
And the more and more he thought of this-
he imagined the lips of Anna, kissed.
So Anna and the captain there
Spent all the spring together-
Weaving such an intense care
that no wickedness could sever.
And pleasantly they lived upon the hill
Where they spent a happy life.
So certain that their love was real,
they took vows as man and wife.
And when the nights became windy and black
and the waves began to toss-
They would sit by the fire and remember back
To the nights their paths did cross.
Now there upon the Baron's hill
The two are resting- silent and still.
And sometimes you can hear Anna announcing "tea"
as Antony comes running up from the sea.
At midnight violent waves did crest
Upon the ragged rocks they tore-
Till a tattered vessel came to rest-
crashing, crippled, on the shore.
The Baron's daughter, from her bed
heard crying from below
And prayed that none the men be dead
amid the fog- now thick and low.
When dawn came then, she hurried so
and found a sailor on the sand
Where torrent winds came up to blow
the lantern from her trembling hand.
And there fell she- a tearful sight-
fearing then the captain's plight.
The young captain's head then up arose
and the Baron's daughter cried-
"Can we save not one of those?"
Said he- "They all have died."
Looking out to sea, she wept
For the bodies washed from shore-
Their eyes folded as if at sleep-
To live- to laugh no more.
She led the captain up the lane
to her father's house upon the hill-
the captain's leg in frenzied pain-
the wind now ebbing close to still.
And by the fires warmth and light
the captain slept throughout the night.
"Twas springlike air that entered in
the open window when morning came
And there was no sign the storm had been-
except the captain, tired and lame.
The Barons daughter then tapped upon
the wooden door- said she,
"Captain, sir, it's way past dawn-
I've brought you food and tea."
The handsome man sat up in bed-
He smiled and bid her stay
as the Baron's daughter's hair of red
Glittered in the light of day.
And the captain's heart was quickly won
As she stood, enchanting, in the sun.
(To Be Continued...)
Like a magician you appeared...
and with amazement and
with awe,
I set you on a stage
and you performed.
Yours tricks made me smile,
Your touch made me weak.
And you put me under a spell
from which I've never recovered.
These years later,
you still delight and enchant me-
You still know the secret magic
that has stolen my love
and captured my heart.
Don't ever disappear.
Don't ever stop being the man
who pulled happiness out of a hat
and
made it mine...
The paintbrush speaks- I hear it speak
in the corner near the door-
It stands among the paints and pencils
and canvas on the floor.
It cries to me when I'm alone-
when no one else can hear-
"You must paint a masterpiece!"
It echoes in my ear.
I shut it out- ignore its plea
And go on with my work.
But then the brush speaks louder! louder!
Makes demands! It goes berserk!
Until everything I do or say-
My sleeping nights and during day-
Is the obsession that will not cease-
I must paint a masterpiece!
So, to please the voice-I pick up the brush
and select a canvas of white-
Prepare it with care and set it firmly
Near the window's natural light.
I dip into a mound of paint-
Anxious to create the dream I seek.
Suddenly the brush is silent.
It is dead.
It does not speak.
Let me tickle my tender toes
In the slushy-sinking sand-
Let the rusty winter wheat
reach in wonder for my hand!
Blow you breezy blue-breeze!
Muss and mess my heather-hair
Let me freely feel good-greenness
Along with summer sun's gold-glare.
Let me racey-run on brown-baked beaches
and stare silently into velvet-violet skies-
Oh, let me loose from winter's world
And meet sweet spring with sugar-eyes!
Last year Winter came
and I resisted.
Thinking I could hide away
and never be found.
Thinking I could stay inside
and lock the door
and pretend
he wasn't there.
But I was wrong.
While stepping out a moment
for the daily mail,
Winter caught me by the coat
and kissed me hard.
Even now,
in the midst of August,
I can still hear Winter
laughing against
the window pane.
I can still feel his kiss
stinging like a bee.
There is a road that winds
on the far side of town
where the trees
surf the breeze
and cover the ground.
There is a road that winds-
I have seen it before.
To most, it's a road
and is nothing more.
But that lane
calls my name
and I cannot ignore.
There is a road that is green-
open and free.
It winds as far
as I can see.
I don't know
where it will go
but I know it waits for me.
Someday before I get too old
before my dreams
all rust
or mold-
Before I waste-
I'll leave this place
and go on down that road.
I will go on down that road...
The days have brought me here again
where winter waits around the bend
And I hear whispers on the wind-
calling out my name...
I bow my weary head and sigh
and mourn for summer days gone by-
Aware that time with always fly
And nothing stays the same...
Oh, but to feel the summer heat
upon my hair and face and feet!
Nothing else feels so complete
as a Sunday in July!
But, yet, how fickle I do turn-
because on summer days, I sometimes yearn
For a winter landscape to return
and to have snowflakes fill the sky!
Swim the sea
and come to me-
across the sand and tide.
I've a castle made of moonbeams-
I'll let you come inside.
We'll watch the stars
and starfish eyes-
Like diamonds on
the sea and skies.
Swim the sea
and come to me-
I will be
your fantasy....
Sometimes I look into the mirror
and I see no one there-
Just a stranger
with avocado eyes
and cardboard-colored hair.
Dreams crisscrossed with cobwebs-
An unwrapped heart
for all to see-
I shudder at the very thought
that the stranger there
is me...
I speak to her and her mouth moves
Like a silent picture show
And I reach up to
brush away the hair
that tangles near her brow.
I see the tears that glisten there
in the corner of her eye.
How can this stranger
in the mirror
Let life just pass her by?
I see the dreams like drifting smoke
dissolve and float away.
It leaves the stranger empty.
She has no more to say.
But I brush her hair
and dry her eyes-
(the only way that I can show her)-
To just hang on
and not give up-
Because tomorrow I may know her...
These are days worth saving.
Pieces of time,
like pockets-
ready to be filled,
formed,
fluffed-
with moments
and memories
and the magnificence
of life.
These are a charm bracelet of days
waiting to be worn-
adorned with
treasures
and trinkets
and tenderness-
Strung into a circle of sunshine
and smiles
and sparkling summer stars.
These are days worth saving.
Days that we must
memorize
and master.
Days that we must not let pass
until they are plump
with prayers
and promises
and places we have been.
She 'oft complained while he stood afar
That never was he fully aware
How sweet her faithful, scarlet lips-
How flaxen was her heather hair!
She said that he was surely blind
to her body, like a flower fair-
And what a shame that only death
Could convince him of her steadfast care!
She 'oft in angry voices cried
That she deserved a caring mate.
I spoke not- but only observed
her selfish all-consuming state.
For did she not see that- if not for him
Her sweet lips would turn sour
like wine untouched for many years
beyond the perfect hour?
Could she not see that her golden hair
would be a horses mane- unkept?
And her fairness wilt as flowers do-
And her worldly ways- inept?
For it was he who made her wise
and beautiful- she did not know-
That she was who she was
because
His love had made it so!
I don't want to die in the winter
when the cold crackling ground
is covered in snow
and the grass is brown.
I don't want to lie in a chilly grave-
Have the wind blow the flowers away
from my bleak resting mound.
I don't want to die in the spring
when the earth starts to breathe
with the sweetness of life-
Oh, how could I leave?
I don't want to lie in a rainy grave-
watch the birds all fly away
and yellow daffodils grieve.
I don't want to die in the summer
when the hot, sultry sun
shouts of picnics and pool sides
and places of fun.
I don't want to lie in a stuffy grave-
beneath a dusty summer wave-
and life be done.
I don't want to die in the autumn
when crimson leaves begin to fall
and inky skies come alive
with the geese's call.
I don't want to lie in a lonely grave
while the smells of autumn drift away-
and days grow small.
I don't want to die at all.
There was a tiny fairy princess
That lived in the shaded wood-
in a dress made out of spiderwebs
with a dandelion hood.
She built a house of emerald moss
with a tulip as her bed-
Her lamp was a tiny firefly
that she hung about her head.
She danced among the violets
and sang amid the flowers-
That tiny fairy princess
lived such fulfilled hours!
But one day as she roamed about,
the wicked North wind blew-
and she fell and drowned in a tiny puddle
of honeysuckle dew.
Bell bottoms. Tie dye.
Summer heat. You and I.
Simple glance. Electric smile.
Cold beer. Stay awhile.
Handsome eyes. Pretty hair.
A song. A touch. A stare.
A date. A night.
Feelin' alright.
Laughter. Wine.
Good. Warm. Fine.
A kiss. Embrace.
A smiling face.
Hot sticky weather.
Every day together.
Blue Datsun. Dusty day.
Want you. Love you. Stay.
Months pass. Love for real.
Marry me? Yes, I will.
Little house. Old car.
Water bed. The Inn Crowd Bar.
Playin' poker. The pond.
Fights. Fun. Growin' fond.
Tuna casserole. No meat.
Makin' love. Ohhh. Sweet.
Dogs, Puppies, Chickens. Geese.
Undying love. To never cease.
Baby girl. New car.
Lucky us. Still are.
Another girl. Becca Ann.
Can we do this? Yes, we can.
Baby boy. Our little Jake.
Cookouts. Bicycles. Heaven sake.
Gray hair. A wrinkle or two.
So little time. So much to do.
Electric smile. Still hot.
What you had- still got.
Still in love. Sweet. Fine.
Still yours. Still mine.
Yes. I do.
I do love you.
I do love you.
I love these days that wander in-
Softer now, like an age-old friend
that without a word, I somehow know
is here to share my wealth and woe.
I love these days- the colors pure-
Like masterpieces they endure
And paint a rainbow in the trees
that whispers with each gentle breeze.
I love these days- the nights of skies
that glisten with a million eyes-
Of stars I still do wish upon
As I watch my life continue on...
I love these days- I treasure all
the secrets of the coming Fall.
I hold on tight and cannot let go-
For I am
so afraid
of snow...
I'm a little girl again-
(I pretend)-
Lift the weight of the world
off my shoulders
And then...
Open my eyes
to days that have been-
Open the door to my dreams
and walk in.
I'm a little girl again-
(I pretend)-
I'm back in my blue cotton dress
and then-
swinging slowly at first
until I begin
To touch the clouds with my toes-
With my tongue,
touch the wind.
I'm a little girl again-
(In my mind)-
Where life is soft
and real and kind-
Where I never measure
age or time-
Inside my secret world
I climb.
Then I must come back
and be
the person people
see in me.
So I shut the door
so carefully-
And pretend I'm a woman again...
I remember watching you
From across the dusty room-
One June day
when they
were out of beer.
I painted mental pictures
of every smile you wore-
and memorized the shadows
on your hair.
Then one night
beneath the silver summer stars
You touched my life
like no one has before.
I'm glad that I was ready-
waiting when you came-
Willing then
to open any door.
What I have to give you
Are only simple things-
Winter dreams
and songs I sing inside.
Time that never stops-
Hopes that never go-
And gentle love
that's much too strong to hide.
And if love could be measured
simply by miles-
No place would prove too far.
My love for you
would reach the moon-
and every heart
of every star.
I love you.
I love you beyond imagining...
Even though the years have passed,
I recall my Mama's hands then-
The tiny lines so deeply pressed
into her leathered skin.
Age and time and work had left
their memories behind.
I studied well
the hands so frail
that she cradled within mine.
I thought her old- although she wasn't-
But I felt sorry, none the less-
That she had the hands
that held the scars
Of too much time and stress.
Now that I'm no longer young,
I see the years take hold-
Time and pain and memories-
Like clay- my hands they mold.
But time passes in a silent way
that no one understands.
I suddenly looked at myself today-
I have my Mama's hands.
