Elizabeth Melton Parsons


Song of the River



The snow melts on the mountain
And the water runs down to the spring,
And the spring in a turbulent fountain,
With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river,
And the river flows on to the sea,
And the water again
Goes back in rain
To the hills where it used to be.
And I wonder if Life’s deep mystery
Isn’t much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity
To the places it used to know.

For life was born on the lofty heights
And flows in a laughing stream
To the river below
Whose onward flow
Ends in a peaceful dream.
And so at last,
When our life has passed
And the river has run its course,
It again goes back,
O’er the selfsame track,
To the mountain which was its source.

So why prize life
Or why fear death,
Or dread what is to be?
The river ran its allotted span
Till it reached the silent sea.
Then the water harked back to the mountaintop
To begin its course once more.

So we shall run the course begun
Till we reach the silent shore,
Then revisit earth in a pure rebirth
From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don’t ask why we live or die,
Or wither, or when we go,
Or wonder about the mysteries
That only God may know.

Clear Dotby William Randolph Hearst


Deep in the Quiet Wood

Deep in the Quiet Wood

by James Weldon Johnson

Are you bowed down in heart?
Do you but hear the clashing discords and the din of life?
Then come away, come to the peaceful wood,
Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now,
From out the palpitating solitude
Do you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains?
They are above, around, within you, everywhere.
Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, they come.
They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in singing tones.
Now let your soul run the whole gamut of the wondrous scale
Until, responsive to the tonic chord,
It touches the diapason of God’s grand cathedral organ,
Filling earth for you with heavenly peace
And holy harmonies.

Photo by Elizabeth Melton Parsons


I Carry Your Heart With Me

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e. e. Cummings


Happy Valentine’s Day

Valentines day

Forever at His side to walk

Forever at His side to walk —
The smaller of the two!
Brain of His Brain —
Blood of His Blood —
Two lives — One Being — now —

Forever of His fate to taste —
If grief — the largest part —
If joy — to put my piece away
For that beloved Heart —

All life — to know each other —
Whom we can never learn —
And bye and bye — a Change —
Called Heaven —
Rapt Neighborhoods of Men —
Just finding out — what puzzled us —
Without the lexicon!

Poem by: Emily Dickinson


Blog Buddy Friday: Gary Maxwell

Gary MaxwellI’d like to introduce everyone to poet/songwriter Gary Maxwell over at Fool’s Blog. Gary is probably one of the most charming and talented wordsmiths I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He can turn a simple line of poetry into a complete story simply by choosing the right words and by manipulating the way the words are used. It’s amazing.

His poetry never fails to delight and entertain. He has an awesome sense of the ridiculous and never fails to give me a good laugh or two or three. If I need to feel a little more cheerful all I have to do is visit Gary for a while and he never fails to add a dose of humor to my day. But he’s not all about humor. Some of his work is very serious and thought provoking.

There’s one more thing you need to know about Gary. He just happens to be a darn nice guy. Go visit Gary and have some fun with words and while you’re there read Massachusetts, one of his serious pieces and one of my favorites.  https://yeoldefoole.wordpress.com

Photo is not mine. All rights belong to Gary Maxwell.


Old Man Winter Is Angry

A couple of days ago I was listening to Robins sing at the window and watching Bluebirds and Towhees beginning to nest. My tulips were up about four inches, sedum and hyacinth too. I thought spring was just around the corner. Then Monday night and all day Tuesday we were blasted by old man winter. Heavy snow, frigid temps and howling wind blowing it all around. I’m wracking my brain trying to remember what in the world I did to that old man to raise his ire to such a degree. I’m thinking about baking chocolate chip cookies as a piece offering.  I want spring and I think Robert Frost did too while writing his poem: To The Thawing Wind. Here’s the poem and a glimpse of our new snow.

snowy drive

snowy drive

my snowy drive

my snowy drive

To The Thawing Wind

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

…Robert Frost


Dark Angel

dark angel

Dark Angel

Come to me,
you lovely creature,
Stalking by night
in the deepest of fog,
Catching the innocent unaware.
Come to me,
I wait with open arms.
So many have fallen prey
to your dark charms.
they follow where you lead.
They dance mindlessly
right into the mouth of hell.
Oh yes, my Dark Angel,
you have many lovers.
Come to me,
I wait, I yearn.
You care not that I wait.
You wish me to follow,
but I cannot.
You must come to me.
I can see the darkness of your cloak
through the swirling fog.
Yes, come nearer.
Come to me,
I wait.
I will have you, my Dark Angel.
I will have you.

Poem: Elizabeth Melton Parsons

Art: http://art.alphacoders.com/arts/view/12821/Fantasy-Art


Sexy Beast-Poem and Photo

She Demon

The Kill
I wait along the wooded path,
hidden deep within the shadows.
The dark of night is coming.
I can smell the scent of my prey,
Hear his footsteps ever nearer.
Anticipation is building.
I silence my now tense form.
As he approaches, never fearing,
I jump and throw him to the ground,
Ripping the garment from his trembling limbs.
I seek to devour flesh,
Fresh, young, filled with vitality.
I render him from top to bottom.
And in my frenzy, I too am devoured.

Poem copyright Elizabeth Melton Parsons

Photo from: http://abstract.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/334759/


Specter of Death

In a dark kind of mood today. Here’s an older, dark poem of mine. I may have already posted it before. If you’re familiar with it, just move on along or read it again. As you wish.


Specter of Death

The specter of death floats round me
knowing it won’t be long.

His stench is strong__
it fills me with dread.
His image a blur, his face__
a pale orb, not clear at all.

I fade as flowers at Winter’s song__
growing ever weaker.
I’m unable to rise from my bed.

There awaits no Angel at Heaven’s gate.
Wrapped deep within the specter’s embrace__
I’ll be carried away to Hell’s torment.

I have filled my life with evil__
shown mercy to none.
I feel no remorse.
I lived my life__
caused harm to many.
Their pain and suffering__
I did not lament.

To change now__
it’s much too late.

I missed my chance__
to change life’s course.

The specter’s image__
now quite clear.
He stands close__
arms open wide.

black, hollow spheres.
The stench is overwhelming__
It gags me.
In fear I now tremble__
he moves to my side.

precious life__
I gasp__
but there is no air.

His black cloak flows round me__
swallowing me in its coldness.
The suffering I caused__
is now my own.

Poem: Elizabeth Melton Parsons

Image: http://wallvan.com/desktop-walpaper-grim-reaper.html


A Poem-A Painting

Goddess of Light

Goddess of Light

Goddess of Poetry and Light 

Walking a world of darkness,

she spreads her flashing light.

With words as swords of freedom,

she fights a courageous fight.

Lightening flashes ‘round her,

as she speaks her words with care.

To those with understanding

and a need the soul to bare.

Flowing from pen to paper,

emotions rushing forth.

The mind a writer’s jumble,

allowing words to take their course.

The Goddess stands beside us

guiding our hands as we write.

Burning our souls on paper

and bringing the world to light.

The darkness pushes toward us

casting shadows on our souls.

Our Goddess throws forth the light

cast by our words so strong, so bold.

©Elizabeth Melton Parsons