God Bless Us All

All written material here is my sole original work, creation, and ideas, unless
specified by quotation. © Copyright 2001, Cathy Leming (All rights reserved)

*******   Conceptions   of   Cathlyn   *******

Greetings voyager! I am The Lady Of Dark & Mysterious Rhymes. You are most welcome to enter my humble home. Please come in and make yourself comfortable; (I have many rooms here, in which you are cordially invited to visit)... I have so much to share. Perhaps my sanctum isnít as decorous as others in which Iíve inhabited, but I believe youíll find the content is quite interesting. Life here in space is complex enough, thatís why I chose simplicity for my home motif. Iím an aesthetic scribe, and I write on a diversity of subjects. One of my sisters, (I'll call her Drifter), says I'm a Freebird and I have to agree with that. Iím a Gypsy at times, and frequently retreat to mystical lands where Golden Trumpets blow. I was born with a very old Soul, but Iíve always had an infinitely fresh Spirit. You will also note that Iím rather eclectic. Iím known far and wide by many, as The Midnight Writer, Jokergirl, Lefty, and Alias. You may call me Alias whatever you please!

I'm a complicated lady, and at times I can't even figure me out, so don't you try either! I retired from a very fulfilling career as a nurse, but I won't elaborate on that... Now I'd like to continue with the real passion in my life: poetry, writing, reading, and learning. There it is in a nutshell. Iím on a grand quest for Wisdom, and I find a little more each day. I also seriously examine religion and philosophy, and Iím a very enthusiastic reader of great books. Good music is a must for me, and I simply can't do without it. I'm the most eccentric person I know, but I consider that a good thing. My eccentricities are what make me who I am, and I never wanted to be anyone but me. Bob Dylan is my luminary, and every poem he has written is my favorite poem; Every song he sings is my favorite song. Also, I respect and enjoy the poetry of Robert Frost very much, and the wisdom of the philosophers I appreciate goes on and on.... but Jesus is my TRUE HERO!!***

I write under the pen name Cathlyn Cross-Leming. (Cross was my grandmotherís maiden name). I've written poetry, short stories and essays for as long as I can remember, and wish to continue writing for as long as my eyes can see and my hands are able. Much of my poetry has religious undertones, or is completely obvious, while other pieces are derived directly from life experiences. The whimsical prose simply pops into my head. I invite you to read some of my poetry by clicking on the titles and links listed below. Cruise around these sites and see what I'm up to, and while your at it, have a look at the lovely awards I'm very proud of! Please check back from time to time, I add new poetry, ramblings and ravings on a regular basis. You'll find even more of my musings waaaaay on down the line. May Peace and Happiness always be yours, and never lose the Faith. . . . Thank you so much for stopping by... and if youíd like, you may sign one of my guest books before you go. I love hearing from my visitors.

*I sincerely hope you have a splendid day!*

"I am but a Humble and unique Spirit of the universe
... because I trust myself and I know my limitations..."
Cathlyn Cross- Leming

I hear the chimes outside my nook
within a bough of green,
The sound, it is so dear to me,
and lovely as a dream.
They tell me that the wind is here,
and so close to my heart,
On the whispered breeze I fly,
and swiftly I do part.
Far away to another land I am,
and happy to be so
Off to the mystical village
where golden trumpets blow.
Delightful ringing of the bells
so fragile are the chimes,
They take me to the another world
and give to me the rhymes. . .

ďThe Prim WeeperĒ

Wisdom is crying in the lonely streets
desiring a listener . . .
She weeps in the crowd---No one hears
The vent of Wisdom sighs with golden tears.
She is anguished and abandoned,
She has tarried much too long-
Wisdom bears great treasure
to make the weak grow strong.
Who will give ear to this ancient voice
as she seeks to do her trust?
She is needed most urgently
Before ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.
Omnipotent, the core of sanity and reason
seeking desperately to feed and find
all the lost and empty souls
And to open the eyes of the shallow and blind.
The essence of her beauty will be felt
when she has taken her leave
Those who dismissed her poignant song
shall lament and bitterly grieve---
Wisdom weeps while humanity sleeps,
Awaken all, hearken and hear
Wisdom forgives with her golden ear. . . .

[Awarded for "The Prim Weeper" February, 2000]
(See awards page for link)

*Cathy Leming*


My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
*Valentines can't buy her*
In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.
The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.
The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing. . . .
Bob Dylan

"The Eleventh Hour"

Dear Lord,
Now that weíve had a catastrophe,
We are speaking and praying to God,
And all of this seems well and good,
But I find the scheme rather odd...
Have I thanked You and praised You incessantly-
When times were ever so good?
Have I spoken to You upon rising first thing,
As every one of us should?
You know that I am a sinner,
And my list of faults is so long-
But Father, I love You in good times and bad,
And this is such a desolate song...
Way back yonder when I was in school,
You were allowed there too-
Will You now be readmitted
Since the only Teacher is You?
People are running this way and that
Your name is more oft on TV,
More lips are speaking Your name again,
In fear of the enemy...
Will these times get worse or better?
All the answers are there in Your Word-
But what scares me most of all Dear God
Is that most of Your reports arenít heard.
Now we come to the Eleventh Hour,
And everyone rallies around;
Will we be ready to stand face to face-
Will our hearts be steady and sound?
I pray to You most humbly OH God,
In the name of Jesus Your Son,
Help me resist temptation-
And from evil rapidly run...
Oh please donít judge me harshly
For saying these things to Thee
I only want to greet You chastely
Ever so desperately...
I know I should have been praising You
When times were seemingly well,
But never let me neglect Your signs
For it is with You Whom I wish to dwell....

Your Daughter, Cathy

September 15, 2001

The only thing more powerful than The Word is the absence of it.

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Click the star to read a lovely poem written for me by Laura Josselyn, a friend and Kindred Spirit

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