Best Virginia Poems
The silver ring Virginia gave to me
has been in my possession many years.
And though it's only costume jewelry,
how beautiful to me it still appears!
The first time I saw shining on her hand
the silver ring Virginia gave to me,
I was amazed. I said I loved it, and
she parted with it so unselfishly!
So pretty is its pattern - filigree.
She took it off her hand, and it became
the silver ring Virginia gave to me,
its stone of azure blue bright as a flame!
This year I learned Virginia passed away.
To think in nearly half a century
I'd seen her not, yet kept until this day
the silver ring Virginia gave to me.
Written Nov. 3, 2016 ,
For Broken Wing's Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old, Old Poems Contest
(Virginia was a few years older than me when i saw this ring on her finger during church youth group. I was maybe 13 years old and was so surprised
when she just took it off her finger and let me have the pretty treasure!
I heard she lived a very good life. I never saw her again after I left for college.)
Oh! Virginia
Come travel back with me to Old Virginia
The namesake of Elizabeth: the Queen
No other state possesses such charisma...
Oh! Mother, of this nation... evergreen.
The Old Dominion, (fifth realm of the Crown),
Birthed many 'Declaration' signers here
As well as Presidents...heroes abound,
From battles fought for Freedom we endear.
The Commonwealth is full of history:
From Jamestown...Williamsburg...and even Poe;
Virginians' Honour and Integrity...
Are still the code for living--not just show.
The Blue Ridge, Country Ham, and Brunswick Stew...
Virginia! Oh! Virginia! I love you...
deborah burch©1.3.2017
Form: Sonnet
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
Virginia's abound with hills that roll off her shoulders
Wet rocks glisten on the edge of the lazy water
Translucent fish arching through the cold channels
Silver barbed hooks rusting in tree trunks
Dangling over the water, and breathing life into the earth
Wet like your skin, see-through blue eyes
Making waves as the children pirouette off the stone cliffs
Disappearing into the emerald green and slate shadows
Meeting the cool rush of the river when they get down there
Or that old carp that Lizzy caught last summer but she let go
Swim bladders shining like mirrors, reflecting oily promises
Running after the great blue, pistons heaving in the hills
Soot on daddy's solemn brow, over his gentle eyes
They all come running, soaking and plodding home
Eager hands grasping for the pie in the window
While the last beat of the summer wind kicks around
Makes the quilt with many colors take flight on the line
One more day under the belt, and another notch in the bed post
Sleep like kings, little Southern Royalty
That old time hang dog moon will see you through
At the entrance of evening, the melting sun slowly drips
over the treetop horizon;
Beckoning the moon to peek through the opaque shades
As lazy winds play tag with the heated night.
The staccato symphony of horny crickets pervade the scene
Piercing the stoical still silence with melodic sounds.
Weighed eyes and muffled ears grow weary…
Retreating the scene and its sounds.
Sleep, the stranger of the day, threatens familiarity:
None can avoid her acquaintance.
Unable to complete, I slip into the twilight of dreams
Knowing not if I shall greet tomorrow here.
God willing and Earth’s water baptize my eyes, maybe,
Just maybe, I will rise to fight another day.
So in this twilight dim, I pray my childhood
Prayer to Him:
" Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake;
I pray the Lord my soul to take."
To be on a positive note about VMI here is my VMI Poem.
Pat Boone was in the VMI movie. Sometimes when you
criticize something it may raise up your dander but
make you start educating yourself at the same time.
In uniform can always see
What always did satisfy me;
Keydets march with much pride
With a feeling of warmth inside.
We were all present in a parade;
Glad we received a passing grade
And another thing we must reveal;
VMI seems to have so much appeal.
In our dorm room we had to wait
Until we finally would graduate;
Friends and family had been there;
Saw VMI that is beyond compare
The most imperfectly
Compatible almost-couple…
Framed in unwanted proximity
Coated in fool’s gold
In worst case, we’ll hold onto each other forever
You’re always just a drink away
Along with every Honey that ever came by
You’ll end up on the bathroom floor
Crush the ice between your teeth
And smile as it melts in your mouth
Don’t provoke me
I’ll get you back, just you wait
Let’s invent a new game
‘Cause this is as good as it gets
Baby, this is our fun
Someday you’ll sober up
But for now:
We’re Martha and George
And I just killed our son.
Wild rugged den of Hatfield and McCoy,
Entered the Union with birth pangs of war.
Sweet meadows punctuate inked river beds,
Trapped in mountains black wealth of coal.
Volunteers--first to send her sons to serve.
In hidden glens Bigfoot and Mothman roam.
Raging rivers white water rafters ride;
Green valleys house her ancient Celtic stock.
Indians roamed, leaving mystic burial mounds;
Night music choir of frog and whip-poor-will.
In forests treasure of ginseng and yellow root;
Apples--green golden fruit crisped in summer dews.
Mysterious mountain culture all her own,
Infused into her native citizens alone.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, 4-15-2014
Mothman ate your clothes?
No way; too big for dressers
—mus’be his baby cuz!
Bees love the spring bud
Butterflies, too, come in to land
Rhododendron blooms
majestic mountains
fog hovering in the morn
unsullied waters
hasten to the waterfall
filling the cold deep basin
My home, the land of the rolling hills.
Where the trees embrace in mutual respect.
Who can truly understand the mystery of the hills without living among them?
I have learned much from the flowing waters.
I have spoken with the spirits of the earth.
I have discovered it's fiery soul.
I have sung with the whispering winds.
They have told me the same thing.
"I am STRONG,"
"I am POWERFUL,"
"I AM WEST VIRGINIA!"
I also loved Ginny, Edgar.
Though mine is an imagined love
It’s nonetheless deeper than yours.
When I recite “Annabel Lee”
Every salty-breeze line I taste
As you did when you composed them;
Each grief-stricken line I feel
As you felt those many years ago
When you wrote those dishearten lines:
“That a wind came out of a cloud
By night/chilling and killing [our]
Annabel Lee” I must give pause…
For each time I read them, I find
My heart seemingly beside her
in that sepulcher by the sea.
...for Virginia Woolf
Seashells hiss her mystery,
leaves and flowers whisper
her humanity; lambent lines
of plangent wisdom, stories
of loneliness coated with love
and compassion, poetic
and rich in description.
Shackled in a masculine
environment, a room of her own
to create her ineffable prose,
a well-spring of joys and regrets.
A secluded stream disposed of her,
weighted and swirled where indifference
would no longer vex her to heaven
that welcomed her shimmering soul,
unsored by an unfriendly world.
There is a Mouse named Virginia,
who goes out with a Squirrel named Spike,
She went to his house for Christmas,
and brought him a little Squirrel bike
He looked under the tree with excitement,
at what Virginia had brought him that day,
It's seat was shaped like a banana,
that would carry him and Virginia away
This is meant to be a double Limerick.... Enjoy all my critter friends.... Taz