The Woods Behind my House

THE TRAIL
There’s a woods behind my house
With a trail’s faint remains
That has almost disappeared
From overgrowth and rains
It winds around the hillocks
From the valley to the lake
And twists all through the mountains
Like a long and writhing snake
‘Twas made by Indian ponies
And many moccasined feet
Long before the white man came
And spoiled [...]

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A poem for great grandson Joe – Happy Birthday!

MY OLD FARM
Dusty farm lane – field full of grain
House, weathered white – silence at night
Crumbling silo – rooster’s loud crow
Old barn, once red – open plow shed
Faint outhouse trails – broken fence rails
Straight garden rows – voracious crows
Piglets and sow – brown jersey cow
White sway-backed horse [...]

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What drama took place inside?

WHAT SECRETS DO YOU HIDE
 
Old house, what secrets do you hide
From dramas that took place inside?
 
There were births, deaths, and marriages
Within your structured frame,
Played out as fate would have it
In life’s exciting game.
 
Your walls shared joys and heartaches
As befits a house of years.
You heard melodies of laughter
And the anguish of tears.
 
You witnessed four generations
Descend from [...]

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My quest, today

     THIS IS THE PLACE
 
I’m sure in mind this is the place
Behind old curtains made of lace,
Where as a child I used to play.
I wonder if there’s still a trace.
 
I had to make this quest today,
Before they tear all trace away.
The wrecking crew may well be blind
To what this house might have to say.   [...]

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My ‘promise’ ring

     TOKENS FROM THE PAST
 
Inside a box that’s tied with string,
           My promise ring.
Two locks of hair,
One dark, one fair.
The blueprint for the house we chose.
A faded rose.
Love beads of blue.
Our photos, too.
Old letters stained with tears I cried,
When our love died.
Mementoes, these.
Sad memories.
 
1/21/90             Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck
 
Judge=s Special Mention … PAW (in Pa) 1991

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My old family tree

This form of poetry is called a ‘Neville’

    MY HOMESTEAD
 
The house that used to shelter me,
is now an empty shell,
with secrets it could tell,
and friendly ghosts just floating free.
I see them everywhere
when I am  quiet there . . .
they’re part of my old family tree.
 
9/9/04     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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