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Poetry


Copyrighted poetry by Bernie Parsons


White Dream World 

Today I stood 'midst swirling snow,
With large, soft flakes tumbling down,
I captured flakes in lashes and hair,
Smiled childlike as if I were spellbound.
Although old bones succumb to cold,
I stood as snow began to cling,
My ears were bitten by the wind,
But still my heart began to sing.
The memories came flooding back
Of childhood play in such a snow,
And treks into the whitened wood
While such a wind did also blow.

 I am transported to those times
So worry-free and lacking care
When I ate the falling flakes
While gazing with hypnotic stare
Into the blue-bruised dark'ning mist,
And seemed to effortlessly rise
Through wave on wave of pouring snow
Into those other-worldly skies,
Where in that garden back of the house,
And in those woods upon the hill
I lost myself in wondrous awe
As the white dream world o'erlaid the real.

Copyright 01-07-2010 © Bernie Parsons


Let's Get Together Soon!

Ragtag days of summer droned in endless cacophony
Of katydid, jar-fly and cricket.
Green fields stretched out before us,
Strewn with buttercup and Queen Anne's Lace.
Secrets hid beneath the towering horseweeds,
Where garden spiders wrote in dew-jeweled webs.
On summer's eve we chased the fireflies from dusk
Till Mom called us in for baths and bedtime.
Sometimes we played hide-'n-seek
Until way too dark to find anyone in the shadows.

I miss those times of innocence
When life seemed never-ending
And one boring day faded into the next.
We are too rushed now, you and I,
Too busy living to enjoy it.
We don't see each other much these days,
And have good excuses.

Let's get together soon and relive old times,
Remember what life is really like.
Let's see the world through innocent eyes again,
Maybe chase a firefly or look for a spider.
Let's listen to the noise of insects calling
And share the secrets of our hearts once more,
Because now we know that summers are not endless
And it's way too late to keep playing hide-and seek.

Copyright 2000 © Bernie Parsons

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Summer Creek

In my mind run memories
Of tadpoles, crawdads and baby catfish
In a cool, green creek of summer.

I recall swift water over stones,
Clear and merry
In its contented singing.

I go back there
From time to time
When I need to think of summer.

And when I need to think of kinship
And friendship and gentler times,
I go home in my heart.

You are always in my heart,
And on my mind,
And always loved and missed.

When winter wraps me in its snowy cape
And purifies the scarred landscape,
I think of summers, and brothers--
I think of you!

 

Written while thinking of my youngest brother, Dwight. Rest in peace beloved brother!


Copyright 1999 © Bernie Parsons

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A Bit of Heaven 

B
etween green hills where I was born,
Where I lived when I was young,
In shrouded valleys in early morn
The mist of fog, ghost-like hung.
 
When the evening sun went down
Ablaze with shafts of heaven’s light
The valley snuggled in white gown
With woolen fog tucked round at night.
 
On night air trembled heaven’s scent
Of apple-blossoms in the spring,
On shifting breezes fragrance went
As borne by angels on the wing.
 
Could this be heaven, I would ask
And pinch myself to see if so,
Then in the glory I would bask
In sunset’s fiery fading glow
 
To rise up to a golden dawn
Of singing birds and hearts aglow,
To see dew diamonds on the lawn--
From God such treasured blessings flow.

Surely not heaven as it is known,
But surely heaven, just a bit,
My valley in the hills of home
And my fond remembrances of it.

Copyright Sep 15, 2000 © Bernie Parsons

 

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Questions Of Life
 
My son,
I've watched you grow into a man.
 
From helpless, crying baby into toddler
With questions that even I could not answer.
 
"Where does the sun go when it goes to sleep?"
"When do the goldfish sleep?"
 
I prayed that God would give me answers enough
To guide you into manhood.
 
From wondering child to headstrong youth
You asserted your independence.
 
The questions are less frequent, now,
You know so much, have so much to tell.
 
A doubt creeps in from time to time--
Did I say enough, show enough, do enough?
 
Your questions will return one day,
Chances are I may not be here to answer.
 
You will wonder why you never asked more,
And why you did not ask sooner.
 
I can only trust that the answers I gave
Were sufficient to set your course for life.
 
When you have young ones asking questions,
Be sure to do your best to answer well.
 
Answer often, answer patiently--
The questions cease all too soon.

Copyright Aug 3, 2000 © Bernie Parsons

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I Reach Out

I reach out my hand to you,
When you fall, or even stumble.

I reach out my hand to you
In your success--it keeps me humble.

I reach out my hand to you,
To support and keep you steady.

I reach out my hand to you
When you're standing tall already.

I reach out my hand to you
And call you friend--

I reach out my hand to you
Until the very end.

Copyright  © August 3, 2000 Bernie Parsons

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Torn Away, All

All the people are leaving these mountains,
Torn away,
Torn away, all,
From brown dirt roots
And black coal dust.
The children learn the three “Rs”:
Readin’, Ritin’, and Route 23--
The road north to the factories
In cities with foreign names—
Like Ypsilanti and Kalamazoo.
The coal mines are closing down,
Families are torn away, all,
From their mountain roots.
Transplanted, they do not grow well
In hostile northern soils
Where they are called hillbillies
And briar-hoppers.
Heartsick and homesick,
They long to return to their roots.
On long weekends they rush home,
Dangerous miles of narrow, twisting two-lane
Burning under their wheels.
Happy hugs and tender kisses
Knit the hearts healed a few brief moments.
Broken-hearted again, they wend the weary miles
Back to the foreign northern cities,
Bearing gifts of salt pickles, relish,
Wild, black raspberry jam, and apple jelly,
Shuck beans, and salt-cured hams.
This taste of home only intensifies the longing,
Troubled dreams of what was, and what might have been,
Had they not been torn away, torn away, all,
From their happy, brown dirt mountain roots.

 Copyright © Bernie Parsons May 23, 2001

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Idyllic Times

Idyllic times
I lay reclined
On grassy greens
Of summer hue.

Clouds overhead
Slowly spread--
Fantastic things
In skies of blue.

In summer field
Time stood still
And I could do
Most anything!

The time has flown
Now that I'm grown,
Yet I'm with you--
How my heart sings!

Idyllic times,
I lie reclined
Within your arms,
Within your reach.

My life is new--
Wrapped up in you--
Not childhood's charms,
But twice as sweet!

All my love!

Copyright © Bernie Parsons 07/12/99

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Kiss the Wind

I cannot count the times I kissed the wind,
Hoping that it would blow in your direction,
With every hopeful thought that I could send
Attached to that messenger of my affection.

Across lonely miles my errant kisses went:
I hope that you have received more than a few,
Because with every windswept kiss that I have sent
Was all the love that I had treasured up for you.

Until I see your smiling face again
Or feel your lips pressed lovingly
against mine,
I keep breathing kisses to the wind
That carries them to you in rain or sunshine!


Copyright © 07/21/98 By Bernie Parsons

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Sleep Well

Dreamless nights I walked in restless silence,
Mind overcome with phantom, fleeting thoughts.
Battered and unsubmissive in my defiance,
My tortured mind dug in its heels, and fought.
 
Unsettled, tossed, and turned by untold emotion,
Tormented by some strange, unseemly spell,
Release came in two words aptly spoken,
Gentle reminder for the coming night, “Sleep well.”
 
Where has this slumber hidden from this heart?
Where is its secret hiding place, pray tell?
Sweet echoes from some distant place apart
Remind this longing, restless soul, “Sleep well.”
 
My weary, pillowed head at last seeks sleep,
Finally, at last, the compelling spell is broken.
Slumber slowly comes and lingers, deep.
“Sleep well,” the magic words are fitly spoken.

           Copyright © 07/22/98 by Bernie Parsons

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Beyond Your Dreams 

Across green hills we walked,
Laughing with pure joy of living,
While the sun brightly burned--
From blazing gold to red it turned--

All evening we talked
Through dusk to dark of night.
Remember all we talked about?
Dreams of life, and love, and giving!

Remember how good the whole world seemed
When lit by fires of what we dreamed?
Don't ever let the fires go out,
Always keep them burning bright!

 I wish you success beyond your dreams!

Copyright ©  Bernie Parsons  07/16/99

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Dear Heart

Dear Heart, sweet is the love that joined us,
Gently binding us as one through shaping years.
Love's nurturing spirit has grown us,
Our lives entwined through laughter and through tears.

Mind's eye looks back to love's fresh beginning,
So long ago that somehow seems like yesterday.
The yarn of life, the master spinner spinning,
Spun out in vivid colors all along the way.

I would not trade the years we've spent together,
Nor yet exchange the love that we have known,
Without you I would not have been the better,
Without you I'd have lived my life alone!

 By Bernie Parsons October, 1998

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The Wild Life (on Beauty Ridge)

I miss the life upon the hill—
Midnight cry of whippoorwill,
Big bass splashing in the pond,
Bullfrogs croaking 'neath the fronds,
Crickets chirping in the dark,
Fireflies flashing electric spark,
Cicadas humming in the trees
When leaves were stirred in wayward breeze.
Woodpeckers intent on raucous din,
Like strangers knocking to get in.
Flocks of turkeys seeking yield,
Groundhogs frolicking in the field.
Great heron in the tops of trees
As pterodactyls poised to flee.
Bald vultures sternly guarding prey,
A glimpse of fox at end of day.
Great horned owl in the road at night,
Coyotes slinking in last light.
Rabbits zigzagging in the road,
Flowerbed adorned with fattened toad.
Echo of hoot owl's haunting refrain,
Mourning doves cooing before the rain.
The curdling scream of bobcat crying
With woeful sound of a woman dying.
A raccoon hiding in a tree,
Through bandit-eyes peered at me.
Ripe pawpaws heavy on the limb,
Raspberries hanging like blue-black gems,
Dewberries hidden in the weeds,
Blackberries ripe and filled with seeds.
Walnuts scattered in the leaves,
Sassafras for pungent teas.
Scolding chipmunks, chattering squirrels,
Wisping fog in ghostly curls.
Morels lurking in the spring--
I remember all these things.
Sometimes I long to go again
To see and hear what I did, then,
But I suppose I never will
See wild life again atop the hill. 

Copyrightã   August 18, 2001 Bernie Parsons

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Dreams Come Of Age

When I was young I watched the sun
Rise on the gleaming ridge.
Each day the same, my life was framed
From dawn till day was done.

Within the hills where life was real,
Hemmed in and sheltered well,
I spent young days in childhood's ways
Where time sometimes stood still.

Through childish eyes came sweet surprise
Of things learned and things retained.
The world was grand and without end
To wide and innocent eyes.

Beyond that hill where sunlight spilled,
A road stretched out to life.
Some day I'd go upon that road
And find a wife, I willed.

I'd buy some land, and be a man,
And rear my children well.
I'd grow old there, life free of care--
I had my childish plan.

God has His ways and sometimes plays
Along with childish dreams.
Through wiser eyes comes new surprise
At what life, at times, displays.

There has been pain, sunshine, and rain,
Dark days and days of light.
As some things do, my dreams came true,
From childhood long ingrained.

Along the way, I have to say,
Some dreams I gave release.
Yet I've been blessed to see the rest
Fulfilled from day to day.

I am a man who understands
That life is short, but sweet,
As I look back along the tracks
To where my life began.

Copyrightã   November 09, 2001 Bernie Parsons


 The Willow Pond

Hot summer days I still recall
With memories obscure but fond
Of placid hours when I reposed
In dreams beside the willow pond.

The grass was soft beneath my back,
In lazy peace I stretched and yawned.
White clouds loafed in pale blue skies
Reflected in the willow pond.

To the world without I closed my eyes,
To outside stress would not respond--
Instead I lived a life of ease
In dreams beside the willow pond.

My world is somewhat harsher now,
The light of adult life has dawned.
But now and then I close my eyes
To dream beside the willow pond.

Copyrightã   1983 Bernie Parsons


King's Ransom

Trudging through white sands of snow,
Skirting dunes in night moon's glow,
Flanked by forms of outlined trees
Burdened by the sudden freeze,
I stopped and lost myself in thought--
Wrapped in that web, myself I caught.
My eyes turned night-ward to the sky,
My breath blew out, a crystal sigh,
For there before my searching face,
Transposed in time, transformed in space,
A sight that I shall long retain:
Crushed velvet sky, an endless plain.
Pendant of silver, the moon was hung
On strands of stars that spaceward strung.
Blazing forth against the night,
Some stars glittered, diamond bright.
I longed to reach out to those stars
To borrow balm to heal old scars,
But, flesh being subject to chill,
I was brought short--I lost the thrill.
The journey home I soon began,
An older, yet...a younger man!
(From time to time I turn glad eyes
To treasures hidden in night skies.)

Copyrightã   1983 Bernie Parsons

 

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