Story Poems

(This one is a take off on Sax Rohmer's
 Dr. Fu Manchu stories)

My Oriental Jewel

I turned my eyes upon a scene,
Completely strange, an alien sight,
Where wine-red vied with golden sheen,
With sea green drapes on ev'ry side.

"It's but a dream", t thought, then stared,
For on one side, the curtains swayed,
As if one wondered how I fared,
But stood a moment, hesitant.

My eyes were held upon that place,
Impatient, yearning --- then a hand,
As white as clouds, with ev'ry grace,
So slowly moved the drapes aside.

And there revealed to my awed gaze,
A face as lovley as a dream,
She looked at me as in amaze,
Then shyly stepped within the room.

No Occidental girl --- this lass,
She bore the look of China's world,
And with no doubt, the highest class,
Possessing wisdom, beauty, too.

My soul knelt there before her feet,
For such a one could not be real,
There could not be a smile so sweet,
Nor glances so compassionate.

Her gown was shimm'ring in the light,
In all the pastel rainbow shades,
She wore one gem, a jewel so bright,
Aquamarine, her eyes deep shade.

Her voice was low, but sweetly clear,
As she then spoke and said to me,
"You are, dear friend, imprisoned here,
Because of father's whim and will.

And what he's planned, I do not know.
But you must not remain, I fear."
So, pointing out the way to go,
She watched a second, then was gone.

And still I would go back again,
And face whatever waits me there,
If she would welcome me and then,
Perhaps, admit, I have her love.

The Moment

Light laughter flowed like golden wine,
From youthful hearts and lips,
The air was free and life was young,
Among the happy crowd.

But then one came and sat him down,
And tension seemed to grow,
Two pair of eyes, that sought his face
And one then turned away.

The free and merry comradeship.
Had vanished when he came,
For now a stealthy watchfulness
Held reign where joy had been.

She noted that he held her hand,
And saw the loving look,
And felt a chilling in her breast,
For jealousy held sway.

And then he left and life was dead,
The silence was a pall.
The others found their voice again,
The moment's tension o'er.

But in one heart the spark was dead,
The smile no more returned,
One dream had vanished in that time,
And would not bloom again.

Death

As night's dark shadows fell o'er all,
A boy and girl, so loath to part,
Were standing in the quiet hall,
For love had blossomed in each heart.

They never dreamed the end had come
Nor that this day would be the last,
For sure, their love would not be dumb,
If they had known their dreams were past.

But morning light brought sorrows deep,
For now the boy stood by her bed,
Where sweet she lay, as if asleep,
But even love can't wake the dead.

He kisses now those quiet lips,
That once had smiled on him.
And in his speech, he halting, trips,
While blurred by tears, his sight grows dim.

"My castles in the air are gone ---
Now what have I to do with life,
Destroyed, the picture I had drawn,
Of us, as loving man and wife.

Our children 'round the floor would play,
Or such had been my happy dream,
But it has been destroyed today,
By loss of her, whom life I deem."

His mother, vainly tried to still,
His sorrow-laden bitter tears.
Which tore the very soul and will,
And raised a mother's fondest fears

But soon from out that room he fled,
And crazy, wild, he ran along,
For in his mind, he saw her dead,
Who late, had been, his love's own song.

But mother love must follow yet,
And so she saw the sorry sight,
As from his heart, the life was let,
While still his eyes saw fading light.

And as she watched, she saw him smile,
A smile that bade "good-by" to life,
But said "hello" to joy, meanwhile,
As he beheld his heavenly wife.

Night's Angels

Now night's grey canopy is drawn,
And all the actors sleep,
Behind the scenes God's angels work,
As mortals slumber deep.

One angel'e task to portion dreams,
To change a hardened heart,
Or give a lonely lover hope,
Or just God's peace impart.

Another watches by those beds,
Where life's brave light burns low,
And sweetly soothes the falt'ring fears,
That souls near death must know.

Another angel's blessed hand,
Cools fever'd brow and brain,
And ling'ring close gives strengh divine,
To withstand grief and pain.

By newlyweds, another stays
God's love so sweet bestows,
And in the glory of their love,
The angel's joy still grows,

The mother's fears are soon allayed,
An angel comforts her,
So filled with peace, she stills her child,
Whom night dreams strange did stir.

So all the folk and all the friends,
That in this world reside,
Are watched and helped and taught at night,
By angels at their side.

So ev'ry night, before I sleep,
I raise a solemn prayer,
Thar God might send an angel's love,
To guard you ev'rywhere.

Friendship and Friends

Dearest Friend

A friend is one who will forget,
And more, forgive, your cruel words,
Prepared to help when things go wrong,
And with his strength, your weakness girds.

But not alone in troub'lous times,
Is he to be depended on,
A simple task, a small request.
He hears and does, before he's gone.

What is Friendship?

A friendship is a virile thing,
That takes the knocks and jolts of life..
And stands the firmer through the strife.

A friendship is a gentle thing,
So full of sympathy and love,
In harmony with God above.

A friendship is a quiet thing,
So wordy speech it does without,
And with a handclasp chases doubt.

A friendship is a blessed thing,
When friends are so forgiving, too,
And let you know they'll e'er be true.

Friendship

If one true friend, you know you have,
Then, pray, dear child, why mourn so much,
For friendship is a rarer gift,
Than gold or furs or costly jewels.

And blessed is the one who knows,
The blessing of that kind of love,
That true and loyal friendship gives,
To all who join her ranks of joy.

And friendship has a gentle way,
Of knowing all the things you need,
Before your lips have opened yet,
To say the words to make them known.

So smile, my child, and frown no more,
The loss is not too great to bear,
At petty troubles, little glooms,
Just smile and go to tell your friend.

David

I miss that friend I used to seek,
When things went wrong and I was blue,
Who listened to me, rave and speak,
Bewildered, as to what to do.

It was to him I told my woes,
My troubles and my sorry tales,
To him my heart would soon disclose,
The themes on which my tongue oft fails.

He listened with a kindliness
Few other friends know how to show,
And by his very gentleness,
He helped my sorrow overthrow.

Now when he comes again to us,
Then it will be my honored right.
To listen to his dreams and thus,
Shall try to help his plans go right.

My Sister

The pretty lassie, deep in dreams,
Sits unaware of gentle eyes,
That watch with sweet solicitude,
Still sympathizing with her sighs.

With eyes, unseeing, blind to all,
She stares into a distant time,
Not knowing that her beauty is
At this one moment, most subline.

Martha

Martha has such pretty eyes,
So deep and full of mystery,
Inscrutable designs
Are in their magic poetry

To Margaret

I walked with memories today,
And felt your presence all the way,
Though you won't walk again with me,
It seemed to me that I would see
If I should turn, you would be there,
As once you were in days more fair.

For Minnie

9:00, the phone rings, and it's you,
Asking "Are you okay", I answer, ask the same,
Assuring each of the other's well being,
Our lives were spent apart, but once we met,
Our friendship quickly grew.
We shared our problems, shared our joys,
As concern for the other grew.
Some there are, who can count,
Friends from childhood, but we
Who have met in later years,
Still have the blessing,
Of being "best friends"
As we grow old together.

To Carol

Do you remember ...
How we would sit outside and talk,
Until your husband came home?
How you introduced me to artichoke?
Do you remember ...
The night of the apartment fire,
You knocked on my window,
Insisted I get up and come out,
Until things got settled down?
De you remember ...
How Delores, you and I went to lunch,
So many times, enjoying the company?

And then you moved away,
And Delores moved away,
And then I moved even farther away,
But we still kept in touch.
Now Delores is gone,
And we can't travel any more,
But we do remember,
The happy days and each other.

Felicia

There are  those who
When you have a problem,
Commisserate or sympathize,
Which is welcome, but.
Cannot really help.

But then there are
'Those blessed few, who
Say "I can do it" "I can help".
To those whom they do help,
They wear the "halo" of a saint,
But with so much humility.

You are one of those,
Who can be so considered.
As such, as we can testify,
Are a true friend, for whom,
We are extremely grateful.

To Shirley

First a friend, beloved friend,
Then a helper, always willing,
Until the tasks became too much,
But still a friend, always a friend.
Yet, when difficulties came,
And necessity came knocking,
Your answered that call,
Counting not the cost to health,
Giving as you always have,
So, if we two, should award you,
A medal for love and friendship,
You should never, never refuse
To accept the token of your worth.

Christmas Thoughts.

Christmas Gifts


We're shopping now for Christmas gifts,
Around the busy store,
Our arms are full, our pockets light,
And ev'ry muscles sore.




The ring for Sis is now a shirt,
We know she wanted it.
We've searched and pondered all day long
And now we'd like to sit.


In wrappings gay, our gifts will make
Their family premiere,
Of their reception by our friends,
We really have no fear.


But, oh, the mess about the house,
When all the gifts are seen,
It's really quite a little task,
To make the house look clean.


Christmas Night


The stars shine bright in wint'ry skies,
While angels sing their lullabies,
On Christmas night.


The shepherds saw the shining star,
That led the wise men from afar,
One Christmas night.


The Babe, so sweet, was wrapt in sleep
But every soul fond watch did keep,
That Christmas night.


The Christmas story told again,
The hope of all the world of men,
This Christmas night.


Sweet gifts, kind words, the world will give
To prove that Jesus still does live,
This Christmas night.


Santa Claus


Is there a Santa?" Donnie asks,
Come, put away your chemistry,
Your logic and your sciences,
And help him solve this mystery.


No chemical experiment,
Reveals to you, the spell that wins,
The children's sweet, adoring love,
Is it, perhaps, those merry grins?


That logic book won't help explain,
The wond'rous mystery of him,
And Einstein's theories are no use.
Beside his glory, they grow dim.


So, tell the child in simplist words,
The story of this Christmas Saint,
He'll have cold facts so long to keep,
Illusions all too soon, grow faint.


Goodwill to Men


At Christmas time, all hearts should join,
In tenderness and love,
Forgotten all the angry words,
Each day ruled by the dove.


The hearts that once were sweet and light,
With love's own blessed glow,
These days should once again regain,
The joys they once did know.


And though I cannot hope my prayer,
Shall ever yet come true,
Yet God is love and love is all
And I still love you true.


The Christmas Spirit


I know it's Christmas now, because,
Of the clear lovely caroling,
Of the gaudy, tinseled, ornamented tree,
Of the spicy, sweet Christmas cookies,
Of the clear, tinkling of the bells,
Of the pure whiteness of the undisturbed snow,
Of the tangy, piney smell pervading the house,
Of the merry, gladsome children's laughter,
Of the disorderly festiveness of the rooms,
Of the mouth watering scent of the sumptuous Christmas dinner
Of the whirr of a toy train, as it flies around the track,
Of the bulging stuffed stockings in front of the fireplace,
Of the holiday fuss and bustle about everything.
Of the children's screams of surprise and delight,
Of the sudden arrival of welcome, though unexpected guests,
Of the beautiful, though simple tale of the Wise Men, the
   shepherds, and the Babe.


The Little Engine at Christmas


They took him out of storage at Christmas at the mall,
Set the "little engine that could" on his tracks,
Stood him up, all shiny and polished beatifully,
Then puffing away, he headed for the steep, little hill,
Yes, the steep little hill, remember this was in a mall,
Then puffing away "I think I can, I know I can,
Yes, I can". he reached the top of the hill, with a
A joyous, triumphant whistle. The childrten laughed,
Clapped their hands, the old folks smiled,
No one frowned, no child cried at that whistle,
So he continued his rounds during the Christmas
Season, giving a chipper whistle, when he passed,
The Santa village, answering the waves of Santa
And the elves each time he passed. Every face wore
A smile as they went on their way, cheering the little
Engine, Then when the Christmas Season was over,
They took the little engine to put him to rest,
To sleep, to dream of Christmas to come.
When he could once again cheer people with his
Perky, joyous spirit and whistle.

Musical Themes

The Whistler


In the night, a little sprite,
Cast a whistle, small but bright,
From the walls, it echoed back,
Now, to the
Passerby, on the street,
It comes, on
Timid, hesitant lilting feet.


(Heinz Chapel at Pitt prompted this.
  The Chapel was a jewel box of a building
     it's stained glass windows, beautiful)


The Organ


So softly through the building comes,
The light, sweet-sounding organ tones,
They steal upon the hearer with
A shy, but gently loving touch,
And on the echoes of their voice,
They bear the sweetness of a gift,
That brings to life the heart's own chords,
Of dreams divine and soul-known quests,
For beauties that are not of earth,
The moment they endow with bliss,
As softly, tenderly, they give,
To hearts a knowledge of the gifts,
That bless their lives with graciousness.

Earth Tragedy

Lost Woods


It was lovely, no giant redwoods there,
But weeds, cactus, yucca,
Still it was lovely, with secret paths,
And pocket meadows, that were known to few,
But someone owned the land,
Decided that green trees and plants,
Were not as important as green money,
And sold it to a company to build stores,
Now there is only a hole in the ground,
All the beauty is gone, 
All we have is a memory.


The Destroyers


We have been hit with a dreadful blight,
Called "Forum Disease",
It mows down trees like grass,
Destroying habitats, leaving birds and animals bereft,
The land is barren wasteland, beauty lost,
The cause, an application of green backs,
Applied indiscriminately to wide areas,
As a supposed improvement of the local area,
The disease has been a destroyer instead.


A Call to the Past


I mourn, I mourn, for all the earth,
And all the people of the earth,
For all living and non-living things of the earth,
For it is being desroyed and no one seems to care.


So I call to you who have gone ahead,
To speak to those still here in flesh,
Send them dreams, terrible, horrific dreams,
To wake their consciences, but if they have none,
Waken them to a conscience.


You who have gone ahead
Surely have no greed or hatred,
Need no position, status or clan rivalry,
Teach in dreams how useless these things are.


Speak in dreams to those who,
At sometime held you in honor,
Let them know that honor is better than wealth,
That their children of the future,
Will be more grateful for a living earth
Then for title, positon or great wealth.


So, I call to you, since those who are here
At present, who try to waken people,
Have been reviled, ignored or taunted,
For willling to care.


I mounr, I mourn, so I call to you,
Will you answer to help the earth
And the people?

Gardens and Plants

(Students at the colleges near Phipps Conservatory found, probably still find, it pleasant and relaxing to walk to the conservatory during free hours)


Easter Flower Show

The coolness of a summer storm,
The stillness of a summer dawn,,
Now gently stirred by music's strains,
Whose themes from higher spheres seem drawn.


What beauty merits all the care,
A loving hand has here bestowed,
The gentle, winding, stone-lined paths,
The bridges where no stream e'er flowed?


For as the setting to a stone,
These charms do little but enhance,
On ev'ry side, sweet scents arise,
And flower gens greet every glance.


Great beds of blooms of single hue,
Combine in intricate design,
So flawless is their fashioning,
Reveals to man their source divine.


On Planting a Flower Garden


Wake up, littltle seedlings, raise your heads to greet the sun,
Stretch your limbs to find the nourishment for growth,
Seek the sun's blessing on your face and the strength,
From soil, sun and rain, let your smiling face,
Give to those who pass by, hope and strength,
That they will pass on to all that they greet,
So, wake up, seedlings, start your happy mission.


The Gardener


"What, a weed in the garden?"
"I'll not tolerate that"
So, with the weed catcher,
She pulled the weed out,
But wait ...
Where are the proper plants,
The seeds she had sown?
No flower is glowing,
No herbal is showing,
So, with a sigh,
She put  the weed back, saying,
"At least, something is growing:"

Picking Wild Blackberries

Mother Nature protects
Her most precious crops,
The wild blackberry is a valued one,
So, if a'picking you would go,
Both legs and arms must protected be,
From wicked thorns that tear tender flesh,
While poison vines their miseries add.
But when the picking's done.
Forget the thorns and poison vines,
Enoy that most delicious treat.

Weather and Seasons

The Storm King Comes


The leaves are flirting with the wind,
A stormy light plays o'er the earth,
As, from the west, the Storm King comes,
With thunders booming 'round his head,
While light'nings show his stern-set face.
His shoulders, wide, beneath a cape,
Of ebon black and heavy fold,
Seem bursting from that slight restraint,
Around him plays a warring host,
Of storms and tempests, strong and wild,
But on his face, a god-like calm.
Prevails against the noisy horde.


The Storm


Nature gave a show tonight,
Skies flashed bright with light,
Windows plinked by ice,
Trees swayed as in agony,
The show is over now,
Light flashes and then the rain,
The closing act.


Night Breeze


As though the breeze had bathed the sea,
Then came to me;
It breathed a cooling, sighing air,
Removing care;
And here within my lonely dreams,
It's wonder seems,
To watch, to hearten, grow and brood,
In solemn mood.


Evening



The sky is graying purple light,
And misty night-dreams creep,
Across the crested summit's peaks
While weary worldlings sleep.
The silence offers sweet repose,
The evening air is chill,
But in the night, a voice, a sigh,
Shows mortals, waking still.


Autumn's Crown


The dead, dry, rustling leaves,
The mottled, muted shades of red,
Black silhouettes of standing grain,
The frosty, hoar-rimed grass,
Great flocks of birds on pilgrimage,
The palest gold of moonlight mist,
Black nights that harbor spirit hordes,
The leering, laughtng pumpkin masks,
The solemn, sweet farewell to ghosts,
(The ghosts of summer's loves and joys),
In Autumn's crown these jewels are set.
Their varied hues and brilliant fire,
Still lending grace to dead delight.


A New Spring


A softness thrilled through all my limbs,
And gently overthrew my thoughts,
A softness born of quick'ning life,
The sweet rebirth that Spring has brought.


The howling winds are whisp'ring now,
All worshipping the lovely Spring,
Who moves amidst that joyous song.
The birds, their journey done, do sing.

Springtime

The green of spring is showing now,
On ev'ry limb and ev'ry bough,
I see her smile where'er I look,
In shadowed glen and quiet nook,
The flowers soon will burst in bloom,
For nature works upon her loom,
While spirits sing and hearts are light,
In happy dreams so fair and bright,
The lovers walking hand in hand.
Do not observe the lovely land,
But springtime echoes in their hearts.
Where bliss appears and gloom departs,
And now my heart in joyous song,
Would lift it's voice amidst the throng.

The Elders

The Insult


Two teen boys, walking to the library,
Before them walked two old men,
The boys, impatient, at their slow pace,
Hoping to anger and hasten them,
One shouted with cruel unconcern,
"Why don't you die, old men?"


Now, years later, I wonder,
Whether there might be,
Some other young boys,
Followint them and shouting,
Those same unkind words.
Then justice might be done,
But even better it would be,
If they should see these words,
And recognize their cruelty.


Elderly!!


A young man called me "elderly woman".
Excuse me, I almost said "young snip".
Elderly seems to say, crochety, decrepit, dodderer,
Call me older, (someone is always older,
Someone younger) but never elderly,
The village leaders are their elders, not their elderly,
A stateman is an elder stateman,
Never an elderly one.
So why should I be labeled so?
I refuse the title !!


Grandmother


Someone wrote a piece,
Some time ago,
Deriding modern grandmothers,
Healthy, active, vital,
Requestimg they be turmed into
Old fashioned grannies,
Soft and warm, yes, but,
Out of shape and out of style,
Health and vigor gone to flab,
To satisfy this wistful whim,
To bring a less desirable,
Way of living back into our lives.
Can he not understand
The outer image doesn't make the person,
Warmth and love need not look matronly
Nor does caring need to be unhealthy.


Retirement


We, the older children,
Having completed our work,
Now plan to take our rest,
The world looks on in envy,
Sometimes in dour concern,
"Are you sure" they say,
"You won't regret what you do?"

The Children

Two Little Boys


Two little boys are romping here,
Around the cold and stony walls;
Their flying feet weave in and out,
Their laughter rings in merry calls.


The smaller lad has fled past me,
With panting breath and impish look,
Between the fences's rails he slips,
And runs to find some secret nook.


Taunters


A Greek chorus of small girl's voices
Chants outside my window.
The age-old childish taunts.
The words do not come clear,
But the sting of emotion ,
Is carried on the rhythm of the chants.


Child


Little boy, why do you run?
Dancing by like a windblown sprite,
Seek you what? Playmate or toy?
As you pass by with grave concern..


Apartment Dweller


The high-pitched chatter of children,
Invades my quiet room,
Children up and out too late,
A whilwind of footsteps as they fly by,
I wait in surpense for a chance to sleep.