Spontaneous Poems

Fore-Runner
FORE-RUNNER
By Luella Trumley Doering

I love the early hints of everything;
The brittle murmur in the autumn leaves
Before the winter onslaught strips the trees,
The restless stirring which precedes the Spring,
The quiet brown of hills, the transient blear
Of snow, the limbs of trees against a sky
Not blue, but pale, and wistful as a sigh--
I love these things that tell that spring is near.

I love your kiss, your tense and tight embrace,
The hidden yet obliterating flame
Between us--yet more sweet than all of this
I find a shadowed mem'ry of your face,
Joy-lighted, your voice singing on my name,
The first faint intimation of our bliss.

Eternal
ETERNAL
By Luella Trumley Doering

The ancient beauty of the ancient earth---
Sunset and splendid dawn and quiet night,
The lofty pride of trees or mountain-might,
Are final and essential in their worth.
And we may rear our lives within the girth
Of smoke-stained cities and ignore the flight
Of Beauty from the worship of our sight
To spaces never marred by man's crude mirth,
Yet in our crowded hearts an echo sings
Unceasingly, amid the din of wheels,
From mem'ries in the mind's dark dungeon-keep,
Unrecognized in our young scheme of things
Save for fleet magic moments when the seals
Fall from our eyes and we behold the deep.

If there must be ticks
There must be tocks
Say all the straight-laced clocks
And they tick
And they tock
And they tock tick
Tock tick all day long
Sing their only song
To anyone or nothing
All day long
Tick tock tick tock
Wish I had a scat singing clock:
"Too ya dootin tock a doodle ee oo oo
Wow Tock a tickie toodlee ock to you"

Edgar
Edgar, I love it!

I think this will be favorite poem lite from you---for now.

BBB

Dreams
DREAMS
By Luella Trumley Doering

This dream which slumbers on the summer wind--
(Move gently, le the-laden air!)
Has crept from out the mockery of flowers
And ferns which cover the begrimed
And rain-streaked marble of forgotten tombs.
(Ah, marble, lying heavy on my heart!)
Strange how this beauty covers an old death,
And dreams glide silently from stagnant glooms.

Dawn
One of my favorites of my Aunt Luella's poems---for the lyrical words.
---BBB

DAWN
By Luella Trumley Doering

Last evening brought a dusk as hushed as grief,
Pearl for its ash, and saffron for its snow,
Arrows of jasper piercing the faint glow
Of the slow-fading day. 'Tis my belief
That from his many journeys the good sun
Was wearied to a protest 'gainst his lot,
For on the lawn, in many a sheltered spot,
I found his tears at dawn, e'ver day'd begun.

Thank you BBB.

I love it, BBB.

Edgar: I think that that's another wonderful poem coming from you. Brightened up my dreary morning!

Lying the wrong way on the bed,
I thought of
Turning cartwheels in front of careless cars.

Not because of
Some wish to disappear in long,
Dark fountains, but in considering

The whole spectacle:
The grainy weather; the parted trees;
The drivers always busy doing nothing;

The spitting streaks of rain, and
Finally, the acrobat--
Her tresses like a fire's remains--

Enters and bounds
Off the diving board pavement,
Will the coming Pantheons

Give way? She jumps,
Fingers grazing the street like knife-edges,
Wedged in the black land of a second's distance.

drom
I return the compliment. I really love your poem.

beautiful child
bright eyed and sunny
dream days on a dappled mare
your brothers wild
sometimes so funny
a father whos never there
your heart beguiled
by one so cunning
so much tenderness to share

I like your signature Edgar.


The roses are a blooming
of that I dare say
and the birds are a singin'
on this most sunny day
a blanket of clover
upon the green grassy knoll
Fair southerly winds
make good for the soul

EL DIABLO

Burning fire, deep below
Lord of Hell, El Diablo
Possessing those who let him in
El Diablo, King of Sin
Killing, torturing, maiming, hating
At the hands of El Diablo, Satan
Burning Inferno, Tortured Souls
Lord of Hell, El Diablo

EL
Interesting presentation.

Conscience
CONSCIENCE
By Luella Trumley Doering

How would it seem, I wonder,
To lie down on green grass,
To drink in golden sunshine
And stare as idlers pass--
To be as tranquil as the trees
Above a pool's dark glass.

To feel no chill in sunlight--
To fear no passing eye--
To hug no burden to my heart
To hear no inward cry--
Ah God, I can but dream such peace,
'Tis not for such as I.

For I must never see full noon
Nor sing in open light.
I only walk these pleasant lanes
Before the day is bright.
And guard my step and keep my face
From any seeking sight.

Captive
CAPTIVE
By Luella Trumley Doering

Why do I love you
Dearest, true?
Why am I captive
Who never knew
Net that could hold me,
Tie to restrain--
I, who when captured
Escaped again--
How is it then
I come to your hand
Willing, quiet,
Yours to command?

You did not bind me----
Left me to sing
Out in the sunlight---
Wild on the wing--
Only the want of me
Unasking, deep,
Brought me a captive,
Here to your feet.

oh i'm sittin here
nothin dear
just sittin here
dear love
i just want to wait

sadness will pass
just give it time
oh politics
my friend at work
andofcourse
natures crime

yeah ill be all right

Morning Edgar, this isn't mine, it is a Hopi Indian prayer, may it's beauty bring you solace....

Don't stand beside my grave and weep,
For I'm not there, I do not sleep,
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond's glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quiet birds in circle flight,
I am soft stars that shine at night,
Don't stand beside my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die

It's beautiful, Doug.

Bittersweet
My Aunt Luella was a very beautiful woman. Her dark beauty was in contrast to the golden hair of her beautiful younger sister, Thelma. I will try to find way to post some pictures of her from her youth to her old age. BBB

BITTERSWEET
By Luella Trumley Doering

Beauty has come to me through all my days--
No night so dark, no pain so sharp but what
Her secret fingers reach along the ways
Of silence to my comfort. This my lot,
And if her kisses sometimes have an edge
Of poignant sharpness keener than their sweet
Yet must I count their taking privilege,
Her burning path a blessing to my feet.

'Tis but a name to many, that I know,
But hand in hand with her I walk the day.
Blessed by Fate, who laid my path down low
That I might walk unchecked in her wild way--
Blessed be Loveliness, who has my all
In answer to her beckoning, her call.