Archive for February, 2009

    GOD’S MASTERPIECE              rosebud-toni-elaine



Heaven’s gate must have opened

And a cherub slipped through

I know, because I’ve seen you

And hugged and kissed you, too


You’re quite a little treasure

Perfect in every way

A rosebud from God’s Garden

A flower in my bouquet


You’ve cast your spell upon me

And I don’t mind at all

In fact I rather like it

Being charmed by one so small


And what a perfect word to give

To someone just like you

GRANDchild fits you perfectly

I promise you, it”s true


God formed your pretty little mouth

And made it mighty sweet

Then He worked to perfection

On your wee hands and feet


Next, He formed your tiny nose

And eyes, (the bluest blue)

He fashioned perfect little ears

And silken hair, too


He kissed your cheeks to make them pink

And dimpled both your knees

And then He sent you on your way

Knowing you would please


You’re a marvelous little Angel

Although there’s not one wing

And I’ve fallen in love with you

My precious little thing


 3/10/66         Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Our song started beautifully

And was lovely for a time

Then, discordant notes changed the tune

And the words no longer rhyme


The melody had been lovely

The words were sweet and dear

That wonderful orchestration

Was the only thing we’d hear


The song was meant forever

But this was not to be

Because the notes that came from you

Fused not the ones from me


And so our song has ended

Though we tried to rhapsodize

We just could not attune ourselves

We could not harmonize


7/16/73     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


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When Uncle Jeb was in his prime

And chose to settle down,

He found a piece of land up north,            

Several miles from town.                                    


He’d say it was “the good old days” –

A nearly perfect life,

For he was busy every day

On a homestead for his wife.


Across the lake were lodge-pole pines,

Just perfect for his needs.

He rowed across to cut some down,

Then trudged through waist-high weeds.                                             


He cut down three, to float across,

Not so with number four,

It knocked him down and trapped his leg

There on the forest floor.


Since Jeb was trapped and injured

At waning of the day,

His Collie, Shag, stayed by his side,

To chase the wolves away.


But night’s dark curtain, beckoned..

The wolves would soon come back.

Though Shag would fight his best for him,

He couldn’t lick a pack.


Jeb unsheathed his skinner knife

To set himself free, …

Cutting through the mashed bone

Just below the knee.


He crawled and slithered to the boat,

And rowed himself back home,

Then rode a horse ten miles to town,

Down trails he used to roam.


That’s Uncle Jeb’s  story

About how he lost his limb..

I believed it when a child – but,

Could it be a tale GRIMM?


8/28/05      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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This is a Spoon River, Dramatic Monologue.  I hope you will enjoy it.




What have they done!

Me, who loathed pretense,

lying here in pink lace.

A beaded-doeskin girl.

yet, here I lie

with satin ribbons

cascading across my breast.

I would rather be laid to rest

in my underwear.

Curls! Why did they

cut off my trademark

braids!  My long black hair

was my pride – – braided

and fastened at the ends

with beaded twine.

Foolish little pearls replace

the twisted-leather thong

earrings, made by my friend

of the Cherokee nation.

They have even removed

the braided-hair bracelet

that I had sworn to wear

to my grave


“Doesn’t she look pretty?”

That’s what they said,

as they gazed at the paradox

carefully laid out

in the satin lined box.

I wanted to shout,

“My adopted name may be

etched in stone, but I am still

Red Feather.”


I lie here, six feet of earth

separating me from reality.

Dressed as a debutante, and

my treasured tokens discarded

as if of no importance.

Stripped forever

of my tribal identity.

I am Red Feather


9/6/95     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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My ‘promise’ ring



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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As morning shows her golden face

After late evening showers

I watch the busy hummingbirds

Dining on my flowers


Squirrels are eating sunflower seeds

I scattered on the lawn

But take time out to play a bit

Then, up a tree and gone


Two lively sibling rabbits

Enjoy a game of chase

The squirrels are back, and two join in

Challenging a race


Chipmunks share the scattered seed

And hurry underground

Then come right back for more of same

And pouch each seed that’s found


The birds are singing melodies

Led by a mockingbird

His concert is magnificent

A treat that must be heard


Leafy trees cast patterned lace

That filigrees my lawn

They offer birds construction sites

Until the season’s gone


Flowering bushes here and there

Join fragrant garden blooms

And kiss the air with heady scents

As nature’s own perfume


I’m blessed to sense such beauty

And such tranquility

I can’t think of another place

That I would rather be


5/27/96     Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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