volume III

61 - 80 *Notes Put To Music*

"He says Bill, I believe this is killing me As the smile ran away from his face Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star If I could get out of this place Sing us a song, you're the piano man sing us a song tonight Well, we're all in the mood for a melody And you've got us feelin' alright Now Paul is a real estate novelist Who never had time for a wife And he's talking with Davy who's still in the navy And probably will be for life"... Billy Joel~Piano Man

P61 TIME FOR MELON

When your melon, get's to smellin'
It's time to pick it, pluck it, wash it...
And get it ready to sell it.

P62 NEED ONLY A LOOK

We've shared our laughter, shared some tears...
Know one anothers hang up's, know one another's fears...

We've shared the sorrow, along with the pain.
Shared special Sunday's, with rainbows and rain.

Need not a word spoken, need not a word said.
We need only a look from one's eye,
or perhaps a quick nod of one's head...

P63 PLANTED ROOTS
(for Mother Earth)

My fragile arms unfold each morning.
My face is warned by cloud shadowed sun.
My lips kissed each day a dawning,
with the dew which rises from above.

My body touched with peaceful thoughts.
Wind in motion pass through thee.
Rain provides growth so I may become,
the best that I might be...

Roots I have planted firmly into Mother Earth.
She watches, cares...looks over me.

My name I have so many.
My name I have but one.

Please walk softly while close by me.
Keep me safe from too much sun.

My name...the flower.

P64 QUESTIONS

Don't ask me any more questions.
You may not respond to my reply.
You want only the answer's you search for.
My answer undoubtedly does not apply.

As for your countless questions,
I keep only one answer within my mind.
For independence can be my only answer.
My answers each new and different, from all the others.

That's why countless questions keep repeating.
Answered from my heart and not my head...

P65 BONES REPEATING

Brittle, aching, cracking...creaking,
these old bones that keep speaking.
While climbing stairs I harmonize with every step I take.

The old bones keep repeating-
Brittle, aching, cracking... creaking.

Think I'll dance take the chance, one more doe' say doe'
and away we go...
Brittle, aching, cracking...creaking.

Skating so carefully one more figure eight.
Feeling frozen ice floor against my bottom, once more...

I do hope my brittle, aching, cracking...creaking bones
can see me to the exit door!

P66 DECISION MAKING

Back again, my taunted friend.
Memories of when we met.
Sorrow, painful malcontent.

You've come back to be pleased again.
By my empty feelings of sorrow.
Pain and mere confusion.

As with a carousel, so go my emotions.
Feelings go 'round, round with no end.
Can not think beyond a moment. Only living from day to day.

Try to find my peace of mind, which has been broken.
But find only the sign which read:

"TAKE A NUMBER, OUT OF OFFICE.
ON VACATION.
PLEASE TAKE A MEMO.
FOR DECISION, TO USE YOUR OWN HEAD"

So, I came home took a pause,
got some inspiration from a higher cause.
Of all the good wishes, of all the good men-
You find they are very busy when...
you need them all in the end.

So the advice you seek, advice wisely taken
should come from above
...for the decisions you are making.

P67 THOUGHT BUGGING ME

Bug in my ear, thought ringing clear...
Idea that you said, as I leaped from my bed.
Better take memo, jot down a note.

Bug in my ear, possibly fatal I fear...
...as I wrote.

Can't remember what did it say?
Repeated a thought, yesterday's thought
which keeps ringing today...

P68 TESTIMONY
(for my Lord)

Just would like to thank you...
For the morning sunrise which gave me hope
at 5:00 a.m. this day dawning...

For my eyes
which enabled me to behold such breath taking beauty,
from you-
The Master Painter...canvas made of sky.

For my sense of smell
which tells me the dew is fresh and so is Mom's red raspberry pie.

Just would like to thank you...
For my ears
that can hear a warm summer's rain atop the kitchen roof,
made of tin.
Or Aunt Ida's voice callin', "Supper time,
wipe off your feet. Ya'll come in."

For my touching sense.
The blessing of soft baby's skin.
Or sudden prick of thorn from a rose bush.

For my sense of taste,
which I've been blessed abundantly.

Thank you...
for my common sense
which allows me to make decisions,
perhaps not always the right ones, but make them I do.

...And the sense of compassion
for the less fortunate than I.

The last...Thank you,
for my love, my true companion to complete my life eternal.
My patience among my elders,
children and creatures I share Mother Earth with.

...For all of thee above
I give you the Master Artist- my thankfulness.
For your blessings, for your love.

P69 HAPPY ENDING

As I walk down the isle, with a great big smile
I'll be thinking of you, all the while.

Our eyes will meet, my heart will beat.
I'll say, "I will" and you will too.

As man and wife, we'll kiss for life.
A new beginning, for a happy ending.

P70 DOWN ON THE FARM
(for my love of the country life)

Smell the apple blossom in the morning sun.
Hear the gentle footsteps of the doe in the woods...

The masked-eyed raccoon talking, having fun.
The sweet smell of new mown hay.
The beautiful sunset of a warm summer's day.

Touch the moist dew on an autumn leaf.
Thee aroma of hot apple pie.

See the big cotton clouds up in the sky.
Hear the crickets and katie-dids...
Smell the fragrance of lilac and clover.
Thinking how our first summer soon will be over.

The sounds of an April rain beating down on a tin roof.
Or the clip-clop of horses hoof.

To hear a buzz of a honey bee.
Or see a cat climb the old hickory tree.
The smell of the barn, a walk around the farm.

Down on the farm all these things mean a lot to me.

P71 BLACKBOARD

A learning tool, the golden rule.
Many generations come and go.
All the knowledge begins to flow.

Soft whispered voices chitter, chatter.
Clumsy little feet that pitter, patter.
Squeaking chalk,
erased once more as spelling book fell to the floor.

Bully Jimmy Brown sits behind me
pulls on my braids, unties my blue bow.
Waits until teacher's back is turned
doesn't want her to know.

After recess Miss Turner rings the recess bell.
We go back inside to once again-
read, write and spell.

P72 OWN BEE'S WAX

Busy, busy, busy
busy, busy, busy, busy bee
they that keep swarming 'round me.

I tell them I needn't be bothered by this busy activity.
I'd like to be able to live.
Believe the ways that I do.
So, please buzz 'round elsewhere -
Buzz with bees that believe as you do.

I believe greatly, and believe as I do
Not necessarily the same as you.

Be that as it may, this bee hasn't swarmed astray.
But have many reservations in believing that way.

I keep safe and true to one hive. Roam only to one comb.
So, with keeping this in mind.
Please keep your honey and your own bees wax at home...

P73 HOLIDAY TALES AND LAUGHTER
(for Mary Jane & the Girls)

The fall season brings back such warm heart-filled memories.
Three weeks ago the leaves were a canvas painting.
Bronze, coral, bright canary yellows.
Deep wines and red-orange fall foliage.

Our Indian summer in one week gone now.
The air and nights are colder.
Not much time left in planning Thanksgiving dinner,
while the children plan and dream of Christmas Eve.
Santa's arrival, wet snowflakes, snowmen and angels to make.

It will soon be time to get the Xmas cards addressed and mailed.
Get everyone's list and phone St. Nick.
A truck for Billy, a soft rag doll for Sue.
And please Santa don't forget a big milk bone
for our old hound dog Blue.

We'll have pleasant scents of cinnamon, peppermint, ginger, clove...
and that wonderful fresh scent from the cute pine tree.
Pine tree that soon will be decorated once again
with decorations passed down from generations ago.
Xmas tree trimmed, now we must find a special place
to hang the mistletoe.

The neighborhood children will all congregate for holiday songfest.
Cold red noses, as they scurry fast from door to door.

The last home opened their door
with hot chocolate and apple doughnuts.
While the children filled their home
with holiday tales ...and laughter.

Published
Fall August 1990
"Treasured Poems of America"
Anthology Book
Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum
Sisterville, West Virginia 26175

P74 WHEN I SMILE
(for Kathy)

I know the time you will be with us now,
I know the time is soon near.
So, I must remember only the good times.
Times we've spent together.

Times we've laughed, sang our sweet songs.
And made a toast to happy times ahead.

For this has been your only wish.
That happiness surrounds us all.
Although, you won't be with us on earth.
We will forever have your memory
cherished deep in our hearts.

And we will try so hard to remember your wish.
Your wish of happiness to all.

And when I sing our sweet songs,
make a special toast and laugh,
the smile on my face of happiness,
will be because you've placed it there.

...When I smile...I'll be thinking of you.

Published
Winter Edition 1990
"Treasured Poems Of America"
Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum

P75 DEAR WILLOW

Willow, as the winds blow through your long limbs
the stories they could tell.
Of children that once swung on your thin branches
Oh, the songs that we knew so well.

Children that are grown and gray.
They still recall what delight they had with you
on that cool Labor Day.

You looked sad as I when branches bare and long.
You are pleased to accompany the blue bird
that stopped to recite his song.

You have earned the wrinkles rough upon your detailed bark.
Such as I have earned each wrinkle, each little worry mark.

So, old friend we will keep each other company
with each day different and new.

Dear Willow, I've been grateful through the years
that Granddad planted you.

P76 COULD YOU IMAGINE

Could you ever imagine, a song without a melody,
or the sky without the stars, sun without the moon?
Or without the rain and trees?

Imagine the earth without the flowers,
color as the rainbow lights up the sky.

Imagine the ocean without the sea?
Or could you imagine a you, without a me...
...Neither could I.

P 77 VOICE WITHIN

I still have a voice within, that still whispers to me.
An enchanting lullaby of justice and hope.

...Hope of some day worries will be gone.
...Hope of some day knowing were we belong.
...Hope of some day happiness for us.
...Hope of a new beginning.

I still have a voice within.
Tells me to live each day one day at a time.
And worry only of tomorrow.
Because tomorrow's all we have to hope for.

My voice within keeps hope for our tomorrow's.

Help me to live only one day at a time,
my voice within...

P78 PINK PERFECTION
(for Kathy)

One November night, an angel received her wings n' flight.
Oh, what a brilliant sunset be-
God's special blessing of perfection I see.
As the radiant sun rays speak only to me.

He lays my weary mind at rest. The sky filled with the artist best.
Pink perfection tells me that heaven's gates are open wide.
Ready to receive his bride.

Our special angel.
As the twilight ends this day. I felt their wings as I did pray.

I gave thanks for our peace. God's abiding peace.
...and the sky held pink perfection in every way,
on a cold peace-giving November's day...

P79 GRAY PHOTO'S

Not black and white but a faded gray memory,
almost that of a well used photo.
Paint chipped and torn. Fence cracked and worn.
No glass for a window. Only the frame remains.
Red barn boarded. What a wonder it's still standing.

Granddad's old tractor out back. It still starts, matter of fact.
Weathered porch with every other board missing.
Fence row now where ivy grow. Rustle of the leaves that blow.

Not a sound nor a peep. This old house can only weep.
...Weep in sorrow of the day. No life existing anyway.
...Weep they've all moved away.

No one left to bail the hay. Can't be found on a hot July day.
No one 'round, no tales to be told.
No one "round for the stock to be sold.

So, this passing farm I'm told use to keep many memories to hold.
So, remember these old lost gray photo's
they too, shall be dinosaurs of the past.

P80 TEARS

Tears of happiness, tears of pain
tears that fall as April rain...

Tears of laugher, tears of loss.
Tears that shed, no words were said.

Tears flow as cherished memories remain,
down the window glass they came...

Silently as I did cry, silently the rain... and I.

	Home \|Table Of Contents \| Volume I \| Volume II \| Volume III \| Volume IV
	Original poetry and short stories by M. Melody Tuli All publications and rights reserved to poet. (A = Awards), (P = Published)

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