POETRY PAGE ELEVEN
Here I sit to write a verse
Removed myself from city's curse
I hear these tombs, they speak to me
And over there a hallowed tree.
There is nothing for to fear
Friendly spirits tarry here.
A whippoorwill sounds over there
A solemn tune and invisible stare.
The full moon passes amid the stars
This place is free, there are no bars.
Beside a stone, there I perceive
A lonely lover upon her knees
With cries of love, she sorely grieves. . .
I see in the sepulcher the moving hosts
And I believe in angels and ghosts.
This is not eerie, I like them near
The only spirits are kindly here.
I like this place which speaks to me
Beyond the brush, there's a gallows tree.
Long ago, a young man was hung
His life's melody was left unsung.
It is for these, I write my rhyme-
Legends dead before their time. . .
Many feelings are given my way
To put upon my page today
For I am like the ghosts who play. . .
As I ponder of who bestowed it
They beckon me, The Graveyard Poet . . . .
'Enough is enough' people always say,
How do we know what it is anyway?
When your mind and heart contend with themselves,
And there's too much conflict to store upon shelves:
You realize this, so get out of the smoke,
Enough is enough when you feel yourself choke. . . .
""Mirror, Mirror" "
A curious thing happened today, I still donít know if itís true
I peered into the looking glass and standing there was you
Absence of time overwhelmed me, or maybe it was suspension
All at once I was at ease, and had lack of all my tension
I gazed into the sea-green eyes which told me of my bleakness
I was rendered impotent, and guaranteed of weakness
Then came the formless body, which only a spirit held
It was overpowering, and had me fairly quelled
I was seeking substance of mind that I could get a grasp
But there was only a deep dark void, and deadly as the asp
I stood and watched my life go by, present, future, past
At this particular moment, I was sure I wouldnít last
The goings on, the turn abouts, all seemed for no good reason
Everything was compromised, season after season
Then what next came over me was ecstatic agitation
My mind, body, and my soul knew of obligation
I understood about everyone and the entire scheme of things
The looking glass then remarked, "This only happens in dreams."
It became more curious, and away my thoughts all flew:
Am I dreaming, am I alone, what portal must I go through?
The looking glass was smiling back at me, for all the time it knew:
All you will find in a looking glass is a perfect reflection of you.
Again mislead, I thought you were thee,
But this was simply a lesson for me!
I am obliged . . . the return of desire
It is not dead, my eternal fire.
So if you can make a place or time,
Please read between each written line.
I thought there was something beyond so real,
You made me ponder, you made me feel.
I was there when you needed me most . . .
Indeed at your command,
But you left me standing in the cold,
In a God forsaken land.
I never tried to cheat, and never tried to lie,
But after all was said and done,
You left me there to die.
You created all the rules, I followed as a sheep,
And now that you have broken them:
I wonder, how can you sleep?
I know we all are outlaws, doing as we will,
But when the cup is empty, who shall do the fill?
One thing in life that I have learned,
Respect is vital, and it is earned.
Of all the pretty spoken words,
Which were the ones sincere?
At this juncture here and now,
Can you tell me Dear?
The Avenue of Life is long,
We need other ones to help along. . .
We're now in much danger, and thereís too many games,
Am I merely a joke, in your jaded list of names?
Iím really not dismayed, it happens all the time,
To you, to me, to everyone, and most of us are blind.
I know lots of answers, but some, I never will . . .
Battles I have fought and won, were battles fought uphill!
When I learn a lesson, I learn it very well,
Most of all the lessons were absolutely HELL.
Iím a lone survivor, and Iím proud to be,
Thank you for the lesson, it means a lot to me.
I know a little secret, Iíll tell it to you quick:
"Life is not the candle, nor is it the wick,
It isnít in the future, it isnít in the past;
It is something here and now, and it is sure to last.
All of the learning, and all of this yearning-
It cleanses the soul, Life Is The Burning . . .
'May I hold you as we sleep tonight,
Can I give you comfort in my arms so tight?
We will know rapture as our bodies touch,
A feeling of joy, and I love you so much.
Come, let us lay on our soft feather bed,
Iíll hold you close as we slumber,' he said.
'Yes, I will go happily,' said I to he.
'It will be mutual pleasure,' he said to me.
And so we went, and as we laid,
I was joyful, and to God I prayed...
'Lord, thank you for the love of this man,
Please help me make him as blithe as I can,
There has never been another like this,
Now at last I have truly found bliss.
In my heart and body, I will let him know,
The seed of love planted will endlessly grow.
I pray we will see The New Kingdom together,
As one united, we shall be Forever'
So much essence and such to share
And the Guardian Angels were hovering there ---
I suppose my prayer was answered,
And just before my sleeping,
I realized that the tears I shed,
Came from Happy Weeping. . . .
© 2001 by Cathlyn Cross- Leming (All rights reserved) All material written here is my sole original work