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Posts Tagged ‘memory’

THE BOOK UPON THE SHELF

 

 

A little book of poetry

Lies upon the shelf

Penned words revealing who I am

All written by myself

 

The once blank pages almost speak

When opened to the rhymes

For heart and soul, in black on white

Bear essence of the times

 

The leather cover’s brittle now

With title worn away

The yellowed pages loose and torn

But treasured to this day

 

It opens to a special verse

Where pressed upon the page

Is a flower that I placed there

At quite a tender age

 

A ribbon marks another page

A poem that makes me weep.

Other poems can make me laugh

Or dream sweet dreams, in sleep

 

God’s blessings fill some pages

Not written as a whim

For the pages would be empty

Without this gift from Him

 

When memory tugs my heart and soul

The book becomes my friend

As I turn the fragile pages

And read the words I penned

 

When I depart this earthly realm

I’ll leave a bit of self

Found within the written words

Of the book upon the shelf

 

 

5/29/94 – Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

 

3’rd … Arkansas NPD 1994

6’th…. Indiana NPD 2001

 

      REVISED 2003

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Cameos of Love

FINGERTIPS OF MEMORY

Soft fingertips of memory
In moments so sublime
Reach gently back into the past
Recalling by-gone time
7/12/00 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A TEAR AND A ROSE

On his sad lonely grave,
A yellow flower grows.
A teardrop catches sunlight
On the petal of a rose.

8/10/90 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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THE COLOR BLUE

 

Blue box that has an open lid

            Blue ribbon peeking out

Blue letters that the ribbon tied

            Hold frequent words of doubt

Blue pages fill her diary

            Blue memories on her mind

Blue tears once filled her broken heart

            For love o’er which she pined

Blue paper, torn and faded now

            Blue words she penned in rhyme

Blue flowers now pressed dry and flat

            Came from a grievous time

Blue shawl that keeps her shoulders warm

            Blue shadows ‘neath her brow

Blue eyes so lively in the past

            Are clouded over now

Blue robe across her aching knees

            Blue clasp in thin white hair

Blue veins in her old wrinkled hands

            That hold the box with care

                           

“Blue isn’t just a pretty hue,”

            She whispered of her past

Then slipped away to death’s blue deep

            The blue box closed, at last

 

12/17/89    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

5’th … Indiana NPD 1990

2’nd … Paw (in Pa) 1991

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The Blue Waltz

THE BLUE WALTZ

  

Of all the songs he played for me

With violin and bow

My favorite was The Blue Waltz

He played so sweet and low

 

I’d whirl around the room alone

In time with that sweet song

And often I’d just close my eyes

And softly hum along

 

I rock-a-byed my little ones

Humming those sweet strains

And as they grew, I’d hum again

To sooth their growing pains

 

The violin is silent now

Stilled when it’s owner died

It lies upon my closet shelf

Stained with tears I cried

 

But in the early morning hours

And frequently at night

I think I hear The Blue Waltz played

Ethereal and light

 

It flows through years of memory

As lovely as before

Oh, how I wish that violin

Could play that song once more

 

3/12/01          Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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