Edith Granger, man. Yeah.
She worked in a shop...
She couldn't find stock...
Her customers, they were annoyed.
She needed a fix...
Some kind of index...
Sell more books, remain employed.
She thought, "Poetry's hot!
We'll give it shot."
The rest is reference history.
By subject you search...
First line you can look...
Last line and words that are key.
Dear Edith is gone...
Her work still lives on...
In the Columbia Granger's Index.
It will help you find...
Poems that rhyme...
From epic, free verse or sonnet.
Edition number 8...
Seems almost like fate...
How easy it is to consult.
At the library you'll find...
Copies online and in bind...
Purchase at bookstore or Internet.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Insomnia
I lay down to rest and
simultaneous images of
simultaneous happenings
flood behind my eyelids
as I lean one arm over
my bed cause I can't sleep.
I'm writing.
Sleep has to sneak
by the words.
Naps are best.
The words are resting.
Darkness hits and the words begin nesting in my brain, in
my heart. Running so fast I don't know where to start. Will I
remember these gems of wisdom in the morning?
No. Can I rest now? No... guess I'll keep writing.
11/99
simultaneous images of
simultaneous happenings
flood behind my eyelids
as I lean one arm over
my bed cause I can't sleep.
I'm writing.
Sleep has to sneak
by the words.
Naps are best.
The words are resting.
Darkness hits and the words begin nesting in my brain, in
my heart. Running so fast I don't know where to start. Will I
remember these gems of wisdom in the morning?
No. Can I rest now? No... guess I'll keep writing.
11/99
For Sisters, at Christmas
Even though you are miles away from me
I hold a picture of you in my heart,
and that image never fades or dims.
It is eternal, a priceless work of art.
Christmas isn't just about giving and getting
or last minute trips to Wal-Mart.
It's about those whom we hold dear.
That is indeed the best part.
So Merry Christmas, my dear sisters
and although gifts for you haven't filled my cart
I hope this gift will hold some memories:
Not a lifetime's worth, but it's a start.
12/2000
I hold a picture of you in my heart,
and that image never fades or dims.
It is eternal, a priceless work of art.
Christmas isn't just about giving and getting
or last minute trips to Wal-Mart.
It's about those whom we hold dear.
That is indeed the best part.
So Merry Christmas, my dear sisters
and although gifts for you haven't filled my cart
I hope this gift will hold some memories:
Not a lifetime's worth, but it's a start.
12/2000
Monday, July 20, 2009
The warm weather acts like a beacon
leading all to it's bosom, outside.
Canines frolic, leaping into lakes,
hopping out, enjoying a good shake.
Happy threesomes lithely toss frisbees.
The wind catches it more ofter than not.
Mini tornadoes whip leaves around
the legs of the Great Outdoorsman.
It's a calm day, a peaceful day:
Warm, but not uncomfortably so.
Muscled midget men show off.
Well-dressed housewives do tooo.
The smell of poop competes with the
new scent of Spring.
Words and pictures document the
first great Saturday of the newborn season.
Eureka! She catches one. The wind has
lost that round. The frisbee falls.
"Poop free!," the exuberant cry.
The sun, which had been napping
behind a cloud stretches its sinews
and is ready to touch us again,
warming our winter frozen limbs.
Spring 2002
leading all to it's bosom, outside.
Canines frolic, leaping into lakes,
hopping out, enjoying a good shake.
Happy threesomes lithely toss frisbees.
The wind catches it more ofter than not.
Mini tornadoes whip leaves around
the legs of the Great Outdoorsman.
It's a calm day, a peaceful day:
Warm, but not uncomfortably so.
Muscled midget men show off.
Well-dressed housewives do tooo.
The smell of poop competes with the
new scent of Spring.
Words and pictures document the
first great Saturday of the newborn season.
Eureka! She catches one. The wind has
lost that round. The frisbee falls.
"Poop free!," the exuberant cry.
The sun, which had been napping
behind a cloud stretches its sinews
and is ready to touch us again,
warming our winter frozen limbs.
Spring 2002
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright.
The heart of man burns brighter than the day.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
Life is beautiful in the creator's sight:
He created us to live in His way.
Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright.
The world has seen its share of plight.
Even a saint might be filled with dismay.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
Heaven gleams an immaculate white.
Angels will greet you and say,
"Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright."
When the world is rough and the dog continues to bite,
think of the child born to sleep on hay one December night.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
The Prince of Peace was born to cleanse our sins
And through His grace a place in Heaven win.
Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
The heart of man burns brighter than the day.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
Life is beautiful in the creator's sight:
He created us to live in His way.
Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright.
The world has seen its share of plight.
Even a saint might be filled with dismay.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
Heaven gleams an immaculate white.
Angels will greet you and say,
"Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright."
When the world is rough and the dog continues to bite,
think of the child born to sleep on hay one December night.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
The Prince of Peace was born to cleanse our sins
And through His grace a place in Heaven win.
Joy, happiness, peace--the light of life shines bright.
Do not despair. Do not give up the fight.
To Be Born, To Die
To be born-
a woman must labor.
To be born-
a man is expected to help.
To be born-
a woman should feel she deserves it.
To be born a woman is to know-
that we must labor to be beautiful,
even when we are not (or don't want to be.)
To be born a woman is to know-
that we are expected to want to marry,
just because he wants us.
To be born a woman is to know-
that we must stand by that man,
especially when he doesn't deserve it.
To die a woman is to know-
that we failed to be beautiful,
especially to ourselves.
To die a woman is to know-
that we are expected to go gracefully,
even when we want to kick and scream.
To die a woman is to know-
that we must lie beside that undeserving man,
in his family plot, for eternity.
To die-
a woman must labor.
To die-
a man is expected to help.
To die-
a woman should feel she deserves it.
a woman must labor.
To be born-
a man is expected to help.
To be born-
a woman should feel she deserves it.
To be born a woman is to know-
that we must labor to be beautiful,
even when we are not (or don't want to be.)
To be born a woman is to know-
that we are expected to want to marry,
just because he wants us.
To be born a woman is to know-
that we must stand by that man,
especially when he doesn't deserve it.
To die a woman is to know-
that we failed to be beautiful,
especially to ourselves.
To die a woman is to know-
that we are expected to go gracefully,
even when we want to kick and scream.
To die a woman is to know-
that we must lie beside that undeserving man,
in his family plot, for eternity.
To die-
a woman must labor.
To die-
a man is expected to help.
To die-
a woman should feel she deserves it.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Love Song (adapted from the Song of Solomon, also called Song of Songs)
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is better than wine.
Your anointing oils are fragrant.
Your name is perfume poured out:
I compare you, my love,
To a mare among Pharaoh's chariots.
My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh
That lies between my breasts.
As a lily among brambles,
So is my love among maidens.
As an apple tree among the trees of the wood,
So is my beloved among men.
Let me see your face, let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
O that his left hand were under my head,
And that his right hand embraced me.
How beautiful you are, my love, how very beautiful!
Your lips are like crimson thread.
My beloved is mine and I am his;
He pastures his flock among the lilies.
Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples,
For I am faint with love.
With great delight I sat in his shadow
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,
I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh
And the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful my love, there is no flaw in you.
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes.
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride.
Let my beloved come to his garden,
And eat its choicest fruits.
This is my beloved and this is my friend.
I come to my garden,
I gather my myrrh with my spice.
I eat my honeycomb with my honey,
I drink my wine with my milk.
Eat, friends, drink,
And be drunk with love.
Ah, you are beautiful my love; ah you are beautiful;
Your eyes are cloves.
Ah, you are beautiful,
My beloved, truly lovely.
I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine;
He pastures his flock among the lilies.
I am my beloved's and his desire is for me.
O queenly maiden, o loved one, delectable maiden;
Your flowing locks are like purple;
A king is held captive in the tresses.
Set me as a seal upon your heart,
As a seal upon your arm;
For love is strong as death,
Passion fierce as the grave.
It's flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame.
Many waters cannot quench love,
Neither flood can drown it.
If one offered for love
All the wealth in one's house,
It would be utterly scorned.
O you who dwell in the gardens,
My companions are listening for your voice;
Let me hear it!
Make haste, my beloved,
And be like a gazelle or a young stag
Upon the mountain of spices.
7/11/00
For your love is better than wine.
Your anointing oils are fragrant.
Your name is perfume poured out:
I compare you, my love,
To a mare among Pharaoh's chariots.
My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh
That lies between my breasts.
As a lily among brambles,
So is my love among maidens.
As an apple tree among the trees of the wood,
So is my beloved among men.
Let me see your face, let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
O that his left hand were under my head,
And that his right hand embraced me.
How beautiful you are, my love, how very beautiful!
Your lips are like crimson thread.
My beloved is mine and I am his;
He pastures his flock among the lilies.
Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples,
For I am faint with love.
With great delight I sat in his shadow
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,
I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh
And the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful my love, there is no flaw in you.
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes.
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride.
Let my beloved come to his garden,
And eat its choicest fruits.
This is my beloved and this is my friend.
I come to my garden,
I gather my myrrh with my spice.
I eat my honeycomb with my honey,
I drink my wine with my milk.
Eat, friends, drink,
And be drunk with love.
Ah, you are beautiful my love; ah you are beautiful;
Your eyes are cloves.
Ah, you are beautiful,
My beloved, truly lovely.
I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine;
He pastures his flock among the lilies.
I am my beloved's and his desire is for me.
O queenly maiden, o loved one, delectable maiden;
Your flowing locks are like purple;
A king is held captive in the tresses.
Set me as a seal upon your heart,
As a seal upon your arm;
For love is strong as death,
Passion fierce as the grave.
It's flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame.
Many waters cannot quench love,
Neither flood can drown it.
If one offered for love
All the wealth in one's house,
It would be utterly scorned.
O you who dwell in the gardens,
My companions are listening for your voice;
Let me hear it!
Make haste, my beloved,
And be like a gazelle or a young stag
Upon the mountain of spices.
7/11/00
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
God Resides in the Little Things
God resides in the rainbow glint on a raven's wing,
And in the egg waiting to hatch.
God is the pearl nestled in the folds of the oyster,
Who in turn is cushioned at the bottom of the sea.
As far as the eye can see, there is evidence of the Creator,
Whether it be a tree, flower, insect or even cloud.
We may feel like a dandelion scattered on an April breeze
But He knows when we have been blown off course,
Because God lives in the tiniest details of life,
In order to show is that He is always there.
He is the smile on every newborn baby's face,
And exists in every kindly act rendered.
God resides in the little things of life, but in big things too:
For He resides in my heart, and He lives inside of you!
3/8/1997
And in the egg waiting to hatch.
God is the pearl nestled in the folds of the oyster,
Who in turn is cushioned at the bottom of the sea.
As far as the eye can see, there is evidence of the Creator,
Whether it be a tree, flower, insect or even cloud.
We may feel like a dandelion scattered on an April breeze
But He knows when we have been blown off course,
Because God lives in the tiniest details of life,
In order to show is that He is always there.
He is the smile on every newborn baby's face,
And exists in every kindly act rendered.
God resides in the little things of life, but in big things too:
For He resides in my heart, and He lives inside of you!
3/8/1997
The Atom
Do humans, like atoms, need
their inner levels filled?
Atoms give or take electrons so
that their inner and outer
levels are balanced and full.
Is this not what people do?
Give and take "love" until their
inner and outer is balanced?
When the atom splits it shatters
everything around it.
Sound familiar?
their inner levels filled?
Atoms give or take electrons so
that their inner and outer
levels are balanced and full.
Is this not what people do?
Give and take "love" until their
inner and outer is balanced?
When the atom splits it shatters
everything around it.
Sound familiar?
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