Harvest

While I linger in the country air
Spirits are dancing everywhere
Working hard in the hot August sun
Reaping what was once begun
I have sown all I can throw
Into the Harvest I now go.







Me & Mine

As I lay in slumber, in the arms of the pine,
I was drowned by images from the pages of time.
All so conquering & courageous were we---
Spirited and sharp, my siblings and me.
Wild were the woodlands where we did roam,
Meager, yet full, was the place we called “Home.”
Pop fetched the vittles, and Ma cooked them up,
Our pockets were empty, but not so our cup!
We prevailed through the drought and flood,
Nothing is stronger than the Living Blood. . .
Together in thickness, and there in the thin,
What would I not give to be there again?
And still in the midst of the trees of pine,
Linger the memories of me, and of mine.
The wind in the trees carried me ’round
To far better places than cities or town.
The unending river approved of our fun,
And so did the meadows where we did run . . .
I understand now what I didn’t back then -
“Peace comes easy --- simplicity’s a friend.”
Ever so innocent, with no thought of grief;
Indeed, such happiness was much too brief.
The years have come, and they have went;
It was a lovely dream that an angel sent . . .
Then I awoke, and I knew I’d been shown:
We were quite wealthy in our humble home.
I have a dear memory that no one can take,
And a mighty tree on which no bough will break.
Again I shall climb . . . up the old pine tree -
To seize a fond glimpse of my kindred and me . . . .


Diamonds

You earned yourself a bauble on your chase for gold,
I only wanted wisdom for the day when I grow old.
You got a broach of rhinestones and a ribbon with your name,
Your quest was for riches, I learned to play the game.
I’ve had a lot of heartache, you’ve had mostly cheer,
But time is moving swiftly, my reward is almost here.
Decades have come and epochs have faded,
Old Father Time left us shaken and jaded.
Now your goods are buried and hidden in the ground
But I still look for diamonds to illuminate my crown.


The Essence Of Me

Do not wish to betroth me
And bury me in your grave
I innately know:
You are but a knave
I perceive the truth of it all
And what is meant to be
So do not attempt to smother
And quell the essence of me.





'My Epitaph'

Here I now lay, in peace at long last,
I am no more haunted by the ravaged past;
I have no pain - and sorrow hath fled...
All of my trials have now been shed.
I am truly happy to be where I am -
As silent as the pearl in a clam.
Earthly goods could not change my way-
I am nestled in the cool earth today.
This is a joy to know I'm relieved;
I knew this in life, so please do not grieve...
I have anxiously awaited my own special time;
Eternal rest is now finally mine.

A Butterfly

Pop always used the word 'flighty' for me -
Some siblings say, 'footloose, fancy free.'
My Ma doesn't even know what to think,
And neither does my expensive shrink.
My X husband said I am ' bubbly and fun,'
My best friend knows I am under the gun.
'Born with a curse,' thinks a sister of mine:
Yet, an older brother feels I am 'fine.'
Brother James once called me 'dumb' -
Too many opinions make my mind numb.
A couple of nieces know I am ' great'
And professional folks know that I rate.
Most people don't know how they feel -
Guys with crushes think I'm “unreal.”
Ones that I help Do call me 'swell' -
Those that hate me, proclaim me “hell.”
No one really knows what to think about me,
Perhaps I'm a butterfly ... on LSD.



Rused

I sit in contented solitude,
and my mind is clear to wander-
Thinking thoughts that reach from here,
and follow on to yonder. . .
I find there is no level end
to the road of life and death;
We go along with shackles and chains
Till soon we have no breath. . .
But as long as I have realized-
no longer I'm confused;
Fortunate to discover early,
“In life we all are rused.”


Hell's Bells

When Hell’s bells are a ringing,
Will Heaven’s door be closed,
Is there one among us
Who can more than just suppose?
There’s no man who is spotless . . .
No not even one;
As Hell’s Bells are a ringing,
Who will stand or run?
I think I hear them loud and clear,
I need to get on out of here,
Ringing closer, very near,
Taunting madly in my ear.
I don’t conclude that I will flee,
For they will always follow me
Down into the pit of blazes --
I have been through hideous phases.
So if my time is over,
And I don’t fare too well --
I did my best, was tested and tried,
And life on earth is Hell.





Night Sounds

I can hear my heartbeat in the stillness of the night,
I am very fond of this, it makes me feel so right.
Diff’rent images of things I’ve done and said,
Are captured and recorder by the mind within my head.
I can hear the night-bird as he sings his lonely song,
A touch of pure serenity that never steers me wrong.
And so, as the clock ticks, the moments swiftly fly,
A time such as this is the very reason why...
Buried in the dead of night, I don’t worry what’s to come,
Night sounds sedate my soul and makes my sorrows numb.
I can think so clearly, in the tranquil cloak of night,
It’s the finest time for me--- to ponder and to write.
The hushed tone of obscurity can hold me here for hours,
It’s my special place, my insight richly flowers.
I know what I shall do, if tomorrow I awake,
I’ll remember night sounds, and the things I have at stake.


The First Call

When I heard the call of the Night Bird
on a long ago evening,
It was mournful, melancholy,
and gave me an airy feeling.
Happy, yet so shadowy
was the essence of this lonely song,
This rhapsody was meant for me,
and to me it must belong!
How difficult to define it was,
the conception that came to me,
The beauty of this Night Bird,
and how it set me free.
I listen as the season comes
to adore the Whippoorwill,
It has always come to me,
incessant is the thrill.
Surpassing other feelings,
it is heartfelt, elusive & real.
An emotion that only he can bring---
so deep, reflective, and still.
I cannot put down in words
the wonder that I feel,
The first call of the Whippoorwill
is enchanting and ideal.



MOST ECCENTRIC


I am the MOST ECCENTRIC and mighty proud to be,
No one else on this old earth is more eccentric than me.
I am non conventional, and out of the norm,
And more than often, I deviate from form.
Perplexing, curious, odd and funny;
All of this, but I have no money.
I enjoy being peculiar, exotic and quaint;
I am most eccentric, but you just ain’t!
I am ever so foreign in a familiar land;
I reach out and touch with my alien hand.
Let me make mention; my life is bizarre,
So let me alone and stay where you are.
Different, unusual, and sometimes strange...
I even have a hundred names.
Oh sure, I DO exhibit a distant behavior:
But I find this to be in my immediate favor.
I'm a sleuth, a doctor, and a lawyer’s attorney;
And the floor of the ocean is my next journey.
Don't lock me away to try and figure me out,
I inspired The Beatles to write Twist and Shout.
Sometimes dead poets whisper in my ear,
And Robin Hood's arrow is my souvenir.
If you've done it once; I've done it tenfold---
I've done most everything and I'm not even old.
I walked on the moon when I was a babe,
I have too many memories to try to save.
I attempted one time to breathe under water,
And I was rescued by a mermaid’s daughter.
When I was held hostage by the infamous Capones,
I truly met up with the real Mister Jones.
I've been in the presence of Bohemian royalty---
But it was They who paid Me the honor & loyalty.
I was appointed to be Boston's town crier,
By now, I'm sure you might think me a liar.
Let me add, I am paranoid and can't quit it;
If I were NOT paranoid, I'd be an idiot.
After reading this, you can plainly see:
The most eccentric person alive is Me!



‘Ondine’


Long ago when the sea was young,
Enchanting melodies were seductively sung.
And I was beckoned from my ancient room,
Was spirited away and bestowed my boon . . .
Upon the shore of an unknown land,
Poseidon gently took my hand. . .
“Lovely creature so beguiling and fair,
I shall take you to your ancestral lair;
Your place is there beneath the sea,
Give your perfumed hand to me.”
Down to the watery depths we went,
To answer the calling I had been sent.
I was given a splendid mirror of gold,
And treasures so rare, oh the gifts did unfold!
Sunken ships loomed everywhere,
And Zeus fixed me with an impossible stare.
I looked beyond and there was Circe,
A seducing goddess with her gift of mercy.
And most contrary to popular lore:
The Argo never made it to shore.
The Siren’s were certainly frightful & vicious
For amongst the coral, I spied Odysseus.
I was willingly lead to the curious mountains,
Was bathed & groomed by the nymphs of the fountains.
Then I was given an ivory key
Which lead to a door fashioned for me . . .
Within the confines of my distinguished place
Stood a rugged Pirate with a much handsome face.
Need I explain what we engaged then?
Yea, earthly brutes might think it a sin . . .
Sprite that I am, I was tempting & teasing
And the handsome Pirate was more than pleasing.
I fell in love with the watery sphere,
And yearned to dwell with my Buccaneer . . .
But, the Siren’s seemed so envious of me,
And at this time I attempted to flee.
I was in fear of the Siren’s sweet song ---
I sought Poseidon, & he said, “You are wrong,
There is nothing for you to fear;
You are the omnipotent here . . .
Oh royalty of the waters, you are the Queen,
Dominance is yours, my beautiful Ondine . . . .”


Wild Dark Eyes


For three long years you were away
Three very long years ago, today
I stored all my love within a shelf
And kept my pain unto myself
You phoned and said, 'See you soon my love,
You are my hand and I am your glove.'
Each night I waited for you to appear,
But my eyes saw nothing but tear after tear.
I often got lost in your wild dark eyes,
And to this day, my memory flies.
To behold the moon on your long raven hair;
No other place would I have been than there.
With your special way, and a certain mood,
I was your dish, and you were my food.
I couldn't believe you had led me astray
And by accident, I found out one day . . .
While on your way to collect your love,
Your number was pulled, but not from above!
Who was the bastard that shot you dead,
While I was going out of my head?
. . . And I gave myself to another instead?
Just an innocent guy who needed a drink---
Not for a moment did you stop to think
A misguided bullet would break our link,
And cause our world to utterly sink . . .
I'm so terribly sorry, I hated you strong,
But I thought that you had done me wrong.
I never meant to lose faith in you,
I was so mixed up, didn't know what to do.
I've suffered so long, didn't know you were cold,
Yet my loving memories will never grow old.
And as I gaze up into the star filled skies,
I'll forever remember your wild dark eyes.

* for Bob Finley, The Glove*


Condemned


Stealthily, I went into a house I saw...
It had been condemned;
This was where I once had lived,
When I was married to him.
I walked through the rubble, and the falling roof-
I tried to be cautious, and not aloof.
I remembered when it was lovely and fine,
And happiness dwelt there...It was his and mine.
Tho the walls had toppled; The foundation was good -
Just as we were, when we did as we should.
I jumped to avoid a hole in the floor -
Fell and cut my head on the door;
I was crazed and mangled, split and bleeding...
There were silent messages I wasn’t heeding.
I was a mess, my brain was tore,
I was woozy and my thoughts were sore.
This pile of wreckage was once my home,
But now a place where entities roam.
I mused of how the time had passed -
And knew the reason it didn't last.
The foundation was built upon a hideous lie,
Now all that lingered was the ghost and I.
I stood, and to myself I swore:
“I shall be tangled like this... no more. . . ”



The Ultimate Fan


Music is the very epitome of you and me, and all-
It is the nature of emotion for the weak and for the tall.
Symphony and magic dwell within this soul of mine,
Lovely rhythms keep my spirit tuned and right in time.
Poetry tenants this body which I merely call my own;
I will offer it up to litany, and shape it as my home.
If it weren’t for song’s creation, I would have long been dead,
Let exquisite music feed my hungry head.
There’s not enough perception - even in my brain,
To hear all the music done - in only one quatrain . . .
Is there a reasonable clue to this deep conception?
I am truly the ultimate fan, without a sole exception.
Rhapsodies sang by angels on a dark & fateful night,
Praising, while in sorrow, as The Word made all things right
Jesus Christ was everything -- and even as he died,
The Good, the bad, the ugly; He was music personified!
There’s not enough paper here to purge my manic brain,
Nor is there time for words, to imagine as I explain.
Not time to hear it all, and though this does seem dire -
'In the radiant bosom of music is where I will expire.'



The Dawning Of My Dreams
How can love be gossamer, yet so strong, . . . is this contradiction?
I say, “No, real love is both, true love knows no fiction . . .”
It takes me to a Space Sublime
and makes this heart to swell and shine. . .
How could I know it would be so fine -
Where were you hidden, Oh Love of mine?
I have walked the razor’s edge, did not expect to see
This reality of you, and how you set me free. . .
These words tell but my feelings, and poorly to me it seems
But, you are the end of my Rainbow, and the Dawning of my Dreams . . .






© 2001 by Cathlyn Cross- Leming (All rights reserved).
All material written here is my sole original work