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Best Poems Written by Helen Bechtel

Below are the all-time best Helen Bechtel poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

The Land of Make Believe

There's a land that is shiny,
and washed by the tides of time.
A land that is far away now.
A land of make believe and rhythm.

To travel there, one must ride
on a moon beam of pure gold.
To land upon it's shores there,
is a joy now, I've been told.

The homes are made of chocolate,
with streets  all paved in gold.
All twisted just like toffee.
It's something to behold.

And the folks that do dwell there,
are radiant with joy.
That takes in all the people,
even those who are but a boy.

So come along with me.
We'll fly on a fast moving train.
We'll go to the land of make believe,
and there we will remain.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Barkerville

There is a little town where once they mined for gold.
now it's just a tourist place, where stories are retold.

Like the one about the miners, who where both on their death bed.
Well, one  he bet the other he'd out live this friend call Fred.

As the clock stuck midnight, poor old Ed he passed away,
And his old miner friend he lived another day.

Now both these two old fellas lay up on old boot hill,
And the story it lives on, and we hear it ever still.

Now as you walk the pathways that the miners use to tread,
You see the lovely forget me knots, And hear the voices of the dead.

You hear them whisper gentle,though the needles of the pine,
as they  walk and talk together about another time.

Yes, they walk and talk together about the days of long ago,
and you wish that you'd been with them, so your story too, could be tole.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

What's Up In the Meadow?

Out in the meadow
sat a wee elf,
under a toad stool,
shading himself.

From close beside him,
ran one little mouse.
To ward off the danger,
he ran for his house.

Up in the sky,
flew a nasty old hawk,
looking for dinner,
behind an old rock,

"Run,Run," cried his Mammee,
as loud as she could,
and she woke the wee elf,
but she knew that she should.

With a fast little flurry,
and a pull him up tight,
the mouse and the elf.
hide in the toad stool's dim light.

So thanks to a toad stool,
two lives were but saved,
 As the nasty old hawk flew off.
His wings seemed to have waved.

I'll get them tomorrow,
thought the hawk to himself,
while away ran his supper,
that little old mouse and the wee little elf,

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Leaving Home

There is a wee tall tale, 
 that me father told us three.
He'd heard it from his father before him.
It was part of his family tree.
He told of how he'd left Ireland,
and sailed the ocean blue,
to land in another country,
that to him was all new.
He told of why he'd gone there,
of the nasty deed he'd done,
and how he'd had to sail away,
and keep right on the run.
He told of how his mother,
cried when he sailed.
She wiped her tears on her apron,
and gave way to a sad, sad wail.
She knew she'd nary again see him.
This child she loved so well,
for he was now a fugitive.
His soul he'd had to sell.
So as the tears were falling,
she bid him fond farewell.
She kissed his cheek so softly,
and told him, her love with him would dwell.
And as the ship left harbor,
with this young Irish lad,
a mother's heart was broken,
with the pain of one who's sad.
I miss me mother dearly now,
for all these may a year,
but I'm glad to have you sons,
to be with me right here.
And the moral of this story:
If you must ever roam,
Take your mother's address,
so you can keep in touch with home.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Down the Road of Life

As I was slowly walking,
down the road of life,
I spied  away in front of me
a bent old man and his wife.
Their steps were even slower,
than I who walked behind,
and they seemed to stop quite often,
but no one seemed to mind.
Now as I gradually gained on them,
something seemed familiar to me,
for that bent old man and lady,
looked a lot like you and me.
They seemed to be talking loudly,
as I was catching up to them.
some sort of argument went on,
that seemed to have no end.
And as I listen closely,
my ears did strain to hear,
just what that old man was saying,
to his wife of many a year.
It didn't take too long to hear,
what was all the to do,
for it was the same familiar words,
that I had, had with you.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Days Long Past

In my mind I wonder,
to a place way back in time.
To a childhood filled with loneliness,
when my thoughts were all in rhythm.

The window where I'm watching,
a world of long ago,
is frosted now in coldness,
as darkness comes down just so.

The window of this memory,
is closed to all the world,
and only I can see it,
as in a hidden mural.

The music that I hear,
are sounds of by gone day.
They reach down in my heart,
and make me want to stay.

For those were the days of youth.
A time long ago in the past.
Days kept only in the memory.
A time that could not last.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Signs of Coming Winter

Snow is falling softly,
on the meadows of the farm.
The day is slowly fading,
as the night bird sounds the alarm.

Kiwi, Kiwi, he is calling,
to send his warning out.
The time is getting shorter,
to begin the winter route.

The robins are all gone now.
The little finches too.
There's just us duck and geese left,
to see this fall time though.

It's time for us to leave now,
for winter's on it's way,
and to much time a tarrying,
and frozen in we'll stay.

The flocks are gathered together.
Their vee shapes in the sky.
They will soon all be gone now,
and another winter will be by.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Life

So faintly slow comes the dawning
upon a lonely soul,
as he trudges down the high way
to reach his life long goal.

A bend or two to conger.
A river that must be crossed.
A storm or two to walk though,
in hope that he doesn't get lost.

The years pass by so quickly,
as man does walk the pace.
The spring does turn to winter,
in the running of life's race.

Your old before you know it,
and life has passed you by.
The hand on the clock keeps ticking,
as slowly you do die.

You reach your prime by twenty.
Your on a downhill race.
Soon what looked like eternity,
turns to man being here by God's grace.

Man's years are really numbered,
and there is nothing we can do,
to stop the hands of time,
until our life is through.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Days Long Past

In my mind I wonder,
to a place way back in time.
To a childhood filled with loneliness,
when my thoughts were all in rhythm.

The window where I'm watching
a world of long ago,
is frosted now in coldness,
as darkness comes down just so.

The window of this memory,
is closed to all the world,
and only I can see it,
as youthful days unfurled.

The music that I hear,
are sounds of by gone day.
They reach down in my heart,
and make me want to stay.

For those were the days of youth.
A time long ago in the past.
Days left only in memory.
A time that could not last.

Details | Helen Bechtel Poem

Autumn Leaves

The autumn leaves are falling,
from their tree tops so high.
They fall upon the ground,
and there they lay and die.

And as you walk upon them,
they crunch under your feet.
To the ears the sound they make
is really very neat.

As I trudged the leafy path,
on a clear autumn day,
my mind goes back to childhood,
when in the leaves I'd play.

We built them into big piles,
as high as they could go,
and then we'd stomp upon them,
to hear them crackle so.

No there is nothing dearer,
to my mind and heart,
than watching the autumn leaves,
as downward they whirl and dart.