Comments by her niece, BumbleBeeBoogie: This poem has always broken my heart since I first read it several years ago. When both of my parents died before I was one year old, my Aunt Luella wanted to adopt me, but the court judge would not allow it because my aunt had recently had surgery for removal of her cancerous uterus when she was very young and life-expectancy survival in those days was very short. The judge ruled he would not risk me becoming motherless again. How sad for her and for me.
OTHER WOMEN'S CHILDREN
By Luella Trumley Doering
(An extraordinary educator )
Other women's children
Pressing at my knee--
But no dreamer of my own
Asking love or me.
Brown head and gold head
Lie beneath my hand,
But no wealth of shining black
Mine to braid and band.
Dark eyes and blue eyes
Meet mine every morn,
(I shall never know your look,
Eyes that are unborn.)
Other women's children--
And I go on alone.
Other women hold you close
But ah, my own, my own!
Edgar, very well written...and very sad.
Thanks colorbook.
BBB
elegant, beautiful - Other women;s children is very strong.
dr king
your day has come
once per year we salute
the era of civil rights
we return to grubbing
and cursing their loss
by increments
but for twenty-four hours
you're still the man
tear
fell
heart
swelled
aching
deep
inside
I
tried
she
cried
no
longer
stand
beside
and Ijust feel like dying
Night Edgar
The warmth of sleep
eludes me
in the hour when all is silent
such a simple task
can not be done
toss and turn
the blankets cease their neatness
I have been captured
by crumpled pillows
begging to be fluffed
and endless thoughts
cluttered upon my minds eye
surely I will find the depths
of slumbered moments
before the sun rises
i slept like a log
not the sleep of the satisfied
just tired as a dog
early i awoke bushy eyed
must prepare to slog
wish i could tell the boss i died
find another cog
but its all a matter of pride
snowing in Albuquerque
It started snowing lightly at prox 9 am
in Albuquerque; a light snow fan I am.
BBB
its not about you is it
nobody comes to pay you a visit
you wandered a lonely cipher
always avoided being the lifer
and today you visit yourself
who happens to be a kindly elf
that no one knows or loves
its not about love really
but about commitmant and dignity
and not fitting where you were at large
always caving before the battle charge
but today your feet are still
you must summon that reserve of will
for the final life's test
Note: I am in constant contact with the extremely elderly, who often finish their last days stripped of dignity and often abandoned by their relatives. Many of my poems are inspired by these folk, many of whom are or have been my good friends.
The Way Of It
THE WAY OF IT
By Luella Trumley Doering
At morn the road winds merrily
Around a jutting hill.
A meadowlark calls cheerily--
The wind is sudden still.
And in the stillness comes a song--
A young song, a glad song--
Out of the land beyond the hill,
Down the road and along.
"Come, come, off to the hill,
Off to the road and along."
"Come, come, whither you will,
Find for yourself the back of the hill,
Throw back your head and sing clear and shrill
But follow the road along."
"Stamp your feet in the dust of the road,
Take the wind in your face."
"Throw away your wearisome load
And beat out a gallant pace."
(At morn the road winds merrily
Around a jutting hill.
But at night the road halts wearily
Before my own doorsill.)
The Amateur
THE AMATEUR
By Luella Trumley Doering
There are no subtleties of words
Within my brain. I speak
A halting tongue. No sword
Of imagery, no mountain peak
Of wit, nor deep profound abyss
Of science or philosophy are mine.
Only a vague and fleeting murmur slips
Across my lips, an incoherent line.
Spring Of Life
SPRING OF LIFE
By Luella Trumley Doering
A tiny rose, unfolding
Knows naught, nor cares to know
Whence comes the warmth of sunshine,
Or why the breezes blow.
Why blue skies shine above it
Or why the robin sings
Content to take from every day
The loveliness it brings.
And so my heart, new living,
Knows not, nor cares to know,
Whence comes the burst of sunshine,
The tender warmth and glow
Of life's new dawning year.
Content to give each happy day
Love unto love, my dear.
Jason To Medea
JASON TO MEDEA
By Luella Trumley Doering
I might endure the bitterness of life,
My murdered children and my tortured bride,
Aye, even they lost dearness, and the strife
That made thy voice a spear-thrust in my side,
If, after all the buffeting and stress,
The cry and clamor of thy maddened blood,
I'd made upon thy passion some impress
Of my bright dream--of all the urgent flood
That from the first had driven me to find
Thy far-off Colchis and to earn the meed*
Of wise and valiant kinship---but so blind,
So blind thou wert to all of my dark need!
And I stood powerless to touch thy brain
With my own thought--that is the sharpest pain.
Think you to conquer? This our ancient feud
Fought out for ages leaves you still concerned
To press an empty triumph? We, subdued,
Unweaponed, are unbroken. You have turned
Once more a fruitless bargaining with Fate.
Can you decree the banishment of Spring?
Can you the Summer's rioting abate?
So do you fail when you conspire to bring
Those who have looked on God to be your slaves.
We are eternal---grind us to the earth
And crush and maim---and you shall find our graves
Bearing our triumph in the springing birth
Of grass and transient flower. Have your way,
Ours is the victory another day.
* "Meed" was an unfamiliar word to me so I looked for its meaning. BBB
Pronunciation: meed
Related Terms: allotment, allowance, amends, apportionment, atonement, big end, bigger half, bit, bite, blood money, budget, carrot, chunk, commission, compensation, consideration, contingent, cut, damages, deal, desert, destiny, dividend, dole, due, end, equal share, fate, guerdon, half, halver, helping, honorarium, indemnification, indemnity, interest, lot, measure, merit, mess, modicum, moiety, part, percentage, piece, plum, portion, premium, price, prize, proportion, quantum, quittance, quota, rake-off, ration, recompense, recompensing, redress, remuneration, reparation, requital, requitement, restitution, retribution, return, reward, salvage, satisfaction, segment, share, slice, small share, smart money, solatium, stake, stock, wergild
horror
not sadness
causes
my tears.
trembling.
and guessing
WHY
do I
have
evil fears.
Life
is a
jumble
enmassed
as a
heap
not much
in a day
i am
willing
to keep
Rise up
prayer
give me
wings
to go away
Hi, jackie
I can feel your poem.
i wear the coat of the ages
stained with gore
animal and human
fashioned of chain mail, leather and silk
and great buttons of whalebone
inlaid gold
i stand astride the oceans
wondering which nations to smite next
I like it, Edgar; it amazes me how some leaders like to play God..
Rain gently taps at windowpanes;
Fashioned on black umbrellas,
The city crawls, the grey presumes
Its place, the mist taking rule of the sky.
Two drunks walked under its dark pillow--
Staggered from side to side, holding weight in
And stepped into some peach road-side hotel.
Some City broker
Buys two pink flowers from a sixty-second kiosk
Gives them to his wife, and then his mistress;
Love in the first degree blooms.
And by those orange houses growing thicker
Nothing is said. The skyline turns to dust.
Interval
INTERVAL
By Luella Trumley Doering
Only a little space and I shall be
So far from you, so far from touch and sound
That all these hours of joy or agony
We hold so precious now, shall be a wound
Upon the stricken surface of our days.
How shall I bear the blackness of the night--
How will you face the changing morning grays
If we recall these darks--these dawning lights?
Yet must we add more pain-fraught memories
To these which scourge us, precious as they are.
Can there be other hours as sweet as these?
Can there be other joys when once the bar
Has fallen? Answer, quiet stars above---
Nothing but silence for our broken love?
Spring comes no more across the southern hill
With cry of triumph and with flash of gold
As she came once to us, when love was still
Unpledged, unspoken. Now when leave unfold
In quiet primness on a quiet branch,
I see again the color of that spring--
The apple tree in fragrant avalanche--
The miracle of lowly blossoming---
I hear your voice again, I feel your hand
On mine, the old caressing touch. Now where
Is Spring, where Beauty, in what hidden land?
And Love, you too! How could we hope to fare,
What could we know of grief and dark morass,
Who had not seen love spring, and bloom, and pass.
Gather you now this till, translucent fruit,
Despair's dark bearing for the twilight hour--
Bright were the blossoms, but the bitter root
Withered their beauty e'er they deck your bower.
"A barren summer, and no harvesting",
You thought, but here behold your recompense.
Garner them all, their's is no sullen string--
Here lurks no Spring's remembered innocence--
Here is no taunt of hours too long in sun.
Gather you here no sweetness and no gall,
These in their languid ripening have won
No flavor and no pungence, take them all.
They will be tranquil as the stream of death,
Heavy with sleep as any poppied breath.
Hi Edgar. Thank you, sometimes feelings get to dropping off our heart like 'sweat off a farmer'.
I have been inspired by the poetry here, very much.
Thanks BBB for the awesome contributions by Doering.
love, jackie
