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Mary P. Elwell - Sunrise, Florida (USA):
April 01, 2001:
This book is my daily journal
These pages are tear-stained pages of sadness
Memories are written within, Turn them, read them
I, the Widow, wear my heart on the tip of a pen
Turn these pages, read them and listen to the silence of the
widow.
April 24, 2001:
I am a book Open me Turn my pages Read me
Within me words of World's people, places Adventures to be experiencd By
you I am a book Open me Turn my pages Read me
Reflect, meditate upon my words My pages will Enlighten you Captivate you
Stimulate you ratify you Mystify you and sometimes Frighten you For my
purposes are many Igive knowledge, pleasure, satisfaction An so much more I
am a Book Turn my pages Read me.
April 25, 2001:
THIS BOOK is the language of Poetry to me, like music in
the sound o water flowing over stones As the rumble of thunder
in the sky The sounds of great winds in the forest The
wide soaring of circles of the hawks and seagulls The deep mystery
of a night full of stars And the endless rythme of the
ocean tides THE changeing of seasons This language of Poetry deeply moving,
Deeply felt.
music in the sound of water flowing over stones
As the rumble of thunder in the sky The sounds
of great winds in the forest The wide soaring
of the hawks and seagulls THe deep mystery of a
The endless rythme of the ocean tides The changeing seasons This language
of Poetry deply moving
eng of seasons This language of Poetry, deeply
moving. Deeply felt....In this book.
MARY P. ELWELL - Sunrise, Florida (Broward):
April 26, 2001:
This book is about our life, Our life like a candle
lit at th beginning Glowing brightly as we grow
Illuminating us as we explore the darkness It's
wick, flickeering,sputtering, as We walk sometimes
fearfully Through the turbulent winds and heavy
April 28, 2001:
This book has Words So many words we say each day So
many words to say By you and e
words that encourage, discourage Words that criticize, otracize Wors that compromise, idealize
Strong words of heat kind words to elate, to elevate Loving words
of sympathy, empathy arh words that depress, opress Our individuality Words that
enlighten, brighten our day Shared by each of us. Some words can
uplift whille others destroy They can make you sad or make ou
glad Our words can be a joy, a treasure Give us great
pleasure When we use them
wisely Handle them carefully, speak them sincerely The many words we say
each day
April 29, 2001:
This book is about the Homeless. I am one of them. I
am a frail woman holding a shopping bag Hair all askew looking
like a hag Searching through garbage cans for something to eat cast
off clothes to wear old shoes for my feet Looking for things
carelessly tossed away by those who don't care My clothes are all
shabby and torn, tis true What else can I do? What would
you do if you were me? My home is a dark alley
under some stairs surrounded by pie
ces of torn cardboard and a torn plastc curtain that once hung
in a shower My bed is a cast-off pillow and a piece
of lumpy foam This is my home.
What would you do if you were me Would you offer me
a warm room and a comfortable be on which to sleep and
rest my weary head? What could you do? What would you do?
We are the young couple eith our lives torn apart by the
greed of others with stone cold hearts We strive each day for
a place to shelter our family What are our decisions for me
to be? I am the friendly, bleary-eyed man with tattered clothes who
asks for a dimeor two from you. I was
once well dressed and wealthy just like you Would you take me
home for dinner too? I am a lost and forlorn teen I
wander the streets alone. Would you offer me the shelter of your
peaceul home? When you simply ignore the homeless and their children's faces
and frowns and go about with your life as if they do't
exist and are not around You are rong! They need your help,
your empathy For the plight of the homeless is a reality They
are your responsi
bility They need your help, your empathy It could happen to you
It happened to me What would you do if you were me?
April 30, 2001:
This Book is for the dreamers The dreamers whose dreams Did
not come true Dreamers such as I Dreamers such as you For
the dreamers Whose ship has never left port Who never reached the
goals they sought Whose cargoes of talents and gifts were left unbought
This poem is for the poets of the present and of the
past Who sang their song of Love into the night But never
the less within their hearts Kept their measure of delight And now,
dear friend, A
song for you I write this poem to say I care A
poem, a dream that only two can share ma somewhere in the
folds of heaven's blue Amongst the brilliant stars that gleam You always
cherish the dreamer and enfold your dream.
