The Poets Speak: An Anthology: In Memory of Our Friend Jeanette Moser 1947-2007

By William Manson

A mixture of poems from worldwide talent comes together in this our second anthology, this time it is special because it is dedicated to the memory of a dear friend who departed this earth for a better place. Jeanette Moser 1941-2007 will never be forgotten.Her words will live on in our Anthology.Jeanette was a special lady each poet who donated poems for this book loved her very much. We hope you enjoy this our second Anthology from Billy's World of Poetry members.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781447558507

Book preview

AKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Section 1

THE POETRY OF LESLIE ANN LINDSAY

Leslie Ann Lindsay is a 49 year old woman with one grown son. Always wanting to share her poems with the world. Since the age of four, her poetry has grown and developed. As a violinist, at the age if 15 went to Matsumoto Japan to study violin under Dr. Suzuki for three weeks. As a Pendleton, Oregon high school graduate and also in college she majored in journalism and music. With a strong belief in God, and LOVE of family, the trials of life have blessed her with a strong belief in making things happen, always with the Lords help. Retired and disabled after 30 years in the health care field as a certified nurses aide. She also worked in Hotel laundry, front desk, and spent two summers in Valdez Alaska as the sales and service rep for Holland America Westours. She makes her home in Portland, Oregon with her son Shaun,a cockatiel named Piper, and a dachshund dog named Leo, but dreams of moving back to Eastern Oregon again.

Jeanette (acrostic)

ABC Poem

Alone.

Bewitched.

Casually,

devoid.

Evermore,

frightened.

Goodness gone.

Hopeless,

imagination,

jilted.

Kindness,

LOVE,

more,

now.

Open,

possessing,

quiet,

resolve.

Staying,

tough.

Unique,

varied,

worldly.

X-ray

youth’s

zenith...

Home

Is where my indoor plants flourish,

where no one even cares if I’m in

old sweat pants and a ragged T-shirt.

With no make-up on, hair not yet brushed.

Herbs growing on the widow sills,

with pictures of family proudly on display.

A candle of vanilla or sweet plum spice glow,

cooking smells from the kitchen blossoms.

A fan blowing constantly to help me breathe,

the Siamese cat curled on my arm chair.

My little dachshund dog is the king,

and I am his lowly feeder, walker and maid.

Where my son hugs me hi and good bye,

also I LOVE you, how was your day mom?

Where I cry when no one is around,

and lift my prayers up to the Lord above.

Good classical music is played loudly,

when the old grumpy neighbor is gone.

It’s my shelter from the cold winds,

or cooling from the humid summer heat.

(Shortened version)

DARK CLOUDS HANG

Dark clouds hang low

Suiting my pounding head

not much I know

I should be dead,

I should be dead.

Can I even really tell

is it now day or evening

this much I know

I am leaving,

I am leaving.

Prayers lift to heaven

mist congeals onto this land

I don’t want to know

take my hand,

take my hand.

Dark clouds hang low

Suiting my pounding head

not much I know

I should be dead,

I should be dead.

Portland Oregon Rain

Lush and green this area

flowers bloom in mass

City full of umbrellas

this too might pass.

Humidity is high always

raindrops into down pour

ocean not far away

seagulls really soar.

Traffic is ever increasing

despite the often rain

why does the sun hide

my ever loud refrain.

Streaks down the window

of rain making paths

nourish this lushness

the green always lasts.

Working in constant rain

nothing ever slows down

we don’t tan, we rust!

we smile, never frown.

Mists of swirling gray

bring on a cold chill

rain can’t be far behind

dry up, it never will.

The Pacific Northwest

may she ever be green

Lords blessings come

beauty always is seen.

Autumn Leaves

Out my window today I’ve been watching the leaves,

crying at the beauty from all the many different trees.

Seeing what the world to me today might now show,

oranges, yellows and reds bright, right before the snow.

Crisp wind is bringing the start of this Autumn season,

I know my heart is breaking, not knowing the reason.

My starting brand new is like it’s coming on to spring,

yet today I can only cry, and sob, not with joy sing.

These falling leaves of Autumn, they make me reminisce,

Summer is going away like a slow, melting lovers kiss.

I’ll sweep and pile all these colored leaves so very high,

let them surround and cover me as I say a last goodbye.

Much too soon the trees will be so very bare and stark,

waiting for trick or treaters in the deep October cool dark.

Pumpkins will be carved then, alight with a candles glow,

Kids will be excited, screaming, and howling as they go.

One last look at the leaves before they’re blown away now,

I sigh for Summer is gone, Autumn comes, this I must allow.

Deep in my cooling heart I’ll always cherish Autumn leaves,

for winter is around the corner,bringing in the deep freeze.

(shortened version)

If I Could Change My Life

First I thought, oh this would be so great !!

If I could change my life, now I can relate.

To be blessed thin instead of being so fat.

Not being Bipolar, now I could handle that!

In quiet reflection, the thought came to me.

This is who I am, and God made this to be !!

I’d like to have a husband, and maybe be rich.

Be more kind, you think God me would switch?

There are surely things I’d change if I could.

Really all in all, my life is blessed with good.

Trials and tribulations have made me stronger.

Upon the Lord I call, for my life to be longer.

I live in America, for which I’m thankfully proud.

Used to work, can’t now, or even be in a crowd.

I played the violin, concert class don’t you know.

Upon a stage, I could confidently be the show.

I’ve been to Japan, music school and tourism.

Worked in Alaska, traveled without criticism.

I was married and beaten, but have one son.

Do I change all that? No it’s what I’ve overcome.

Halloween (pim)

Witches and warlocks with green warts on their nose.

Black cats, cauldrons, broomsticks and lizards toes.

Quiver the hallows in a ghosts graveyard of rows.

Mischievous caper of the trick or treaters demons froze !!!

BOO !!

Ode To Post It Notes

Once I went to a yard sale,

oh my what a find I found!

A new box of post it notes,

I bought, opened and found.

My mind is sometimes very,

less then clear these days.

Post it notes are everywhere,

they catch your every gaze.

Post it notes on my calendar,

on my computer and notebook.

Post it notes on the walls too,

sometimes even on me if I’d look.

One post it says do laundry,

or the dishes need be done.

Take my pills, get some sleep,

walk the dog, go out in the sun.

So my ode to Post it notes,

is really now done, almost.

If I can remember if I did it,

for my amusement, or to post...

ENERGY PRAYER

Dear Lord,

today I was wishing for energy.

Something I seem to lack a lot lately.

Is it this Bipolar depression?

My age, the years I’ve wasted?

This world and the pollution?

Just for today, this day Lord,

may I please be blessed with energy,

to tell those I love how they touch my life?

If today, the light in my mind should be clear,

then let me try and repair any damage I’ve caused.

Life here on earth is so weird, Lord.

With every heart beat I hear,

I really want to be a better person.

As the tides wash to and from on the beach of life,

may I take the time to extend a hand out,

to help in some small way.

The waves crash deafening my soul.

Lord, may I have some energy today,

in Thy Holy Name I pray . . .

PEACE

On a cool November nite,

with a full moon overhead.

I felt such peace and joy,

for this far in life I’ve led.

My time in this life seems,

to be a blur of days and Nites.

Calm cool breezes blow,

with sun shining so bright.

Giving thanks for all this,

I bowed my head in prayer.

Knowing with a certainty

the Lord was listening there.

It seemed as if heaven,

was then within my reach.

Peace, calm and beauty,

of which they seldom teach.

If only I could describe

the feelings in my heart.

I’ll be at one with all humans,

to make now a glorious start.

"Was he?

Sleep often lost from a soldiers mind.

Images of violent death so very unkind.

A colonel pilot doing his duty back then.

From Enola Gay, a bomb dropped so we win.

The plane Enola Gay would history make.

Hiroshima destroyed all in it’s horrid wake.

It was war, war the Japanese drew us into.

Could he sleep, this soldier from out of blue?

Paul Tibbets died at the age of ninety two.

Never, he said, did he regret what he did do.

He died November first, two thousand seven.

Was he was ashamed at the gates of heaven

Daylight Savings

Hours, oh hours in a day.

Turn back, turn back now.

Farm crops in,

daylight’s win.

All dark is on it’s way.

Dark hours with us stay.

Hours, oh hours in a day.

Kids with not much now.

Turn on lights,

totally brights.

All dark is on it’s way.

Study now, not much play.

(No E challenge)

Walking

Walk the earth barefoot

see the oceans waves

feel the chimneys soot

enter the ancient caves

experience all, just look.

Snow-bank

The snow-bank’s sunless cold,

streaked of violet’s watery hue.

Regrets flaunting the pale skies

from last year’s loftier view.

Marshmallow Dreams

It was more than forty years ago,

on a family trip to Canada we go.

I was probably only about six years old,

this is the recounting I’ve been told.

My dad did the driving all the way,

he ate marshmallows my mom did say.

Derrell, (my dad) if you don’t stop eating those,

you’ll turn into one from your head to your toes.

I fell asleep, kind of the restless sort,

waking up terrified, screaming was my retort...

My daddy’s a marshmallow,

(I screamed, anything but mellow.)

My daddy’s a marshmallow!!!!

Freezing Rain

Patter of rain drops coming down.

Such a melodic, soothing sound.

But when those same drops are ice.

Slick, cold, freezing does suffice.

My soul sings for the freezing rain.

Mimics louder now my growing pain.

Less wet than ordinary rain drops.

Making a singing sound as it plops.

Coating everything in it’s wake.

Ice it shines, for goodness sake.

Barren trees now have an icy coat.

Weatherman doesn’t even gloat.

Pling, plop, a loudly sung chorus.

The ice falling is not so porous.

Slip slide along the concrete path.

Our area has now taken an icy bath.

Seal everything inside this ice.

Now really, isn’t that twice as nice?

Let the area feel as my heart does.

Coated in ice, hurting in pain~ Just because!

Dreams (pim)

Phases of transcendent dreams,

glorious traces of moonbeams.

faith, LOVE and wonderment spoons,

by soft winged dragons’ velvet moons.

PRELUDE (pim)

The ring of fire.

Shadows and mists,

glowing in silhouettes.

A prelude of sparks flight.

Whisper...

Let the world around you shout

let them be heard, then forgotten.

Quiet is soft, resilient, beautiful.

As we stain to hear a quiet voice

let the words then sink deeply.

Conform not into a worldly thing

that makes you uncomfortable.

Instead see the powerful truth,

like a gentle rain from within.

SECTION 2

THE POETRY OF MARIE FALCK

I was born in Calgary, Alberta, Canada at the end of WWII.

I wrote a few poems in my school years, but became serious about it in 1992,

when my girls and I were going through some rough times. I found it an escape

for me, from the trials of life, when I started putting things down on paper in

poetic form. I find that what the good Lord places in my heart to write,

touches the soul of the reader, and I thank Him, that I am a useful tool in His

hands.

Marie Falck

HALLELUJAH AVENUE

By Marie Falck

Just wait till you see my brand - new home

That’s found on Hallelujah Avenue

A provision of God, the Chief Cornerstone

My mansion is dazzling

With a spectacular view

Surrounded by Walls of jasper

And has its bearings

Down by the clear Crystal Sea

And it’s all made to order just for me

A place where eternal praise I can offer