self confidence oozed out of her
she married and divorced two men before she was twenty-one
few women had that kind of confidence in the twenties
Marguerite is my grandmother
The old man plays violin.
soft, yet bittersweet
A songbird concerto
and dreams of Marguerite.
Those fifty years ago
By steeple creek
It was cold, ten below.
He proposed on bent knee.
They danced in the snow.
Her ring a Marquise.
Through Life's ebb and flow
Their love was complete.
The old man plays on
soft yet bittersweet
A songbird concerto
and Dreams of Marguerite.
Entered in the
Painting Inspired
Poetry Contest:
Sponsored
By Lisa YY.
Picture # 3.
Almost virginal beauty
the wonderful flower, marguerite
even with universal joviality
it has a daisy beauty, discreet
I often saw her in the patterned garden
Tending tenderly small children,
Until their parents came to pick them up.
I was absorbed in her antics as children laughed.
Oh dear Marguerite, how exquisite she looked.
How children prayed their mothers came a little late.
But time played a useful trick on her,
As she once fell and bruised her knees.
Quickly I hurried and with my handkerchief
I cleaned her wound and stopped her bleeding.
I took her to a small quaint café and made her drink.
We became friends quickly and as time passed
I helped her caring for the small urchins
That played a while for they loved her much.
Till one day I proposed and wedded were we.
We chose a cottage that was surrounded
With meadows and trees. And every fine day
That is the path I chose, covered with soft
blades of grass hedged with variegated
late hibiscus, and moonlight filtering through
drooping willow trees. Winding path tilts
up hill, towards a wooden pergola that
glimmers in the darkness, her paradise.
All for my lovely Marguerite.
Marguarite McGillicuddy
Marguarite McGillicuddy
Would not let
her boots get muddy
No matter which boots
She would wear
She’d cover them up
with a second pair
and if the mud
came to her knee
Marguarite
Would put on three
And if the rain
began to pour
Marguarite
Would put on four
But five pairs of boots
People would talk
And Marguerite
Could hardly walk
The craziest thing
I’ve ever seen
But her boots
Were always clean
Some people called
Her Fuddy Duddy
Marguarite
McGillicuddy
Maya met her Socrates
public examination of her life
and writing down her hypotheses -
female blackness a caged bird's life
singing often, singing she arrived
from uncivil lessons on civil rights
to stand-up straight and thrive
in beauty - with rhythm besides
Marguerite Johnson is dead
but Angelou will arise
to see life wondrous instead
with dark-brown soulful eyes
mourn not that her life is passed
celebrate that it was expressed
© goodguysoul 2014-05-28
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_Angelou
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/still-i-rise
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqOqo50LSZ0
You were like a delicate flower so fragile and pure,
But you would never bloom again as you did before.
Maggie my dearest friend,
We'd known each other since the age of ten.
No longer will I see that beautiful serene face ,
And in my heart there's an empty space.
We both married and went our separate ways,
Now I sit back and reflect on those days.
Whenever we met we had so much to say,
That it always took an entire day.
Our lives took a rocky course,
And after several years ended in divorce.
We were like sisters You and I,
I never thought that you would suddenly die.
I know that Mother Mary is standing with arms opened wide,
As she gently ushers you inside.
My devoted friend hear my urgent plea
That when my time comes,
Please keep a place in heaven for me.