Sometimes I Write
~personal prose~
Sometimes I Write - My Poetry by Valerie Peters
Theme: Poetry
7"x10" - Hardcover w/Matte Laminate - Color - Trade Book
Published on: Sep-30-2019
These are dedicated to my friends and family..Poems Along the Path. I dedicated the book to my Grammy who read poetry to
me on the glider, and to my Mother who listened to everything
I write
Along the path we wander
Holding words of thought
Gather up the Living
Write it from your heart.
Remember them or forget them
Matters not you see
Life is a thoughtful pathway
Living poetry.
Theme: Poetry
7"x10" - Hardcover w/Matte Laminate - Color - Trade Book
Published on: Sep-30-2019
These are dedicated to my friends and family..Poems Along the Path. I dedicated the book to my Grammy who read poetry to
me on the glider, and to my Mother who listened to everything
I write
Along the path we wander
Holding words of thought
Gather up the Living
Write it from your heart.
Remember them or forget them
Matters not you see
Life is a thoughtful pathway
Living poetry.
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The Glider
Up and up the winding road Logan’-s Ferry Hill Close your eyes and pretend I can take you there, even still. Imagine men of old Determined and full of will Mining coal and farming On my Grammy’s hill. Up and up the wilder wild Houses nestled deep Overgrown with bough and bush, Long ago voices creep Chick-a-dees and woodpeckers Flit from limb of tree Crickets buzz, and foghorns sound Below is the Allegheny. The scent of coal stoves hover, Calling me closer still Flagstones trace a familiar path The air is moist with chill. Open up the slamming door Her wooden porch invites Screened to keep intruders out Memories of delight. Smell the earth around us Loving simple room. Moss and grasses wild Carefully chosen blooms. Frosted cinnamon toast and butter Rich cocoa in a mug A library of curious books Give my soul a tug. Then it is alone time Once upon a summer night Just Grammy and I on her glider Together under starry light The coolness doesn’t dissuade us Nor lack of light to see We cozy up with blankets and books Just my Grammy and me She tells me tales of make-believe Recites her childhood rhymes Verses from the Bible flow Since those are deep inside. From the mountains come her strength I’m sure~ and in the morning things look joyful She lives the words the Lord has said And shares them firm and careful. We read short tales from Chatterbox, And when that’s to an end She saves more time for poetry And all her old-time friends. Dickenson, and Byron, Frost, and Oscar Wilde The glider rocks with rhythm As she enlightens her child. Some say that it is a sad thing When rituals cease to be But for me it’s still alive Grammy’s glider when she reads to me. |
" Sometimes I Write" Sometimes it is the music The drumbeat of ancient ones The allure of mystic fiddles The dance of distant fun. Sometimes it is the artwork The heroines and such Igniting creative fervor To make me think too much Sometimes it is the poetry That brings me to this end Words that sing like magic Written by a friend. Sometimes I need the purpose The reason and know-how Sometimes the freedom is just there Perhaps that time is now. 
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