Woman with Taper, Jules Breton (1873)
Candle’s glow let forever to be your guide
Making sure its bright flame never to quit
The wind’s access must always be denied
Wind is evil, tempting you to submit
Might your candle’s glow suddenly disappear
Do not place it in a darkened drawer
For your future will then become nadir
Must make an effort its flame to restore
Surround yourself with those whom you think dear
Be not afraid to share what is you fear
If true to yourself future will be clear
The glow of the flame you now will restore
Light of the candle to you be sacred
Then drink of His wine and eat of His bread
Image manipulated by author
Sea Calling Me
In quiet stillness I observe the hue
Of the mighty endless sea before me
Sweeping eyes drinking the depth of her blue
With desire to be consumed by this sea
I’ve visited her countless times before
She always seems to appeal to me more
Calling me with gentleness of her shore
Her soft tender loving clutch I adore
I am naked to all of her power
Still shy, with my toes I touch her azure
Her wave coaxes me a little closer
Now I am totally consumed by her
Joy as she touches every part that be
She gives me a feeling of being free
Allensville Hay Press Barn, Switzerland County, Gwen Gutwein (2008)
Its many boards of gray are on display.
Their opened grain bear the signs of aged pain.
From their perfect centers did move away.
Long gone are the days of its mighty reign.
Shows no mighty power to right itself,
Relying totally on my pity.
Knowing each board makes for a proper shelf,
Adding many dollars to my kitty.
Once inside I could feel its unique scent,
Wondering where all those memories went.
Where I day upon day happily spent,
Lingering has changed my early intent.
I’d better go and fetch the proper crane,
As this is where this creature shall remain.
Autumn, Emilio Sánchez Perrier (c. 1900)
Autumn by the River
Song birds of the trees have made their retreat
Cool winds of autumn chased summer away
Colors of the quiet land now blasé
Busy fields in summer are not deplete
Paces of the past are now slowing down
Giving moments of pure quiet pleasure
Thinking of the silos filled with treasure
Waiting arrival winter’s bridal gown
Cataloging thoughts at the river’s edge
Reminiscing the joys that came my way
In mind the desire to ensure they stay
Seeking more in the future is my pledge
Studying the river as it goes by
It is my life passing by that I see
Message is always busy I must be
Like plants I will eventually die
Image manipulated by author
With bucket of water, squeegee and rag,
Performing menial chore I abhor.
For it will always make my spirits sag,
Daily cleaning of the stately glass door.
Fully covered with finger prints galore.
Strange as it be that it has no push bar,
Makes me hate this nasty door even more.
Without a key lock makes it more bizarre.
Limitless numbers who come but can’t pass.
Is this door’s only purpose to harass?
Or clearly an obstruction made of glass,
To ensure creation of an impasse?
Now clearly understanding took an axe,
Gave the mighty wall of glass forty whacks.