Twinkle, Twinkle Little Dream

By Heather Duncan &
Wayne Cook

Never thought I'd stand before
Never thought I could get over
A wall is just a stepping stone
A helping hand, I’m not alone
Another hand took my own
Lifted me past the great unknown
Suddenly, I could see my star
Now my heart can dream afar

Children pray and Heaven hears
Dreaming helps relieve our fears
It only takes one candle light
To pierce the darkness of the night
The past is gone forever gone
Tomorrow may not ever come
Today we have few short hours
My wish is that you find your power

Twinkle, twinkle, little dream
Never mind what the world thinks,
Reach for all the stars you see
Renew your soul, when you dream
Twinkle, twinkle eager dream
Close your eyes, pray to keep
Wish by distant starry frames
Guide us to our candle's flame

Jamie's Garden

By Wayne Cook

Once upon a faerie-tale,
My sister and I, plotting,
Squirmed into a looking glass,
All to escape our chores,
And perhaps penmanship from class,
Found ourselves in Jamie’s garden,
Amongst faeries and blooms
The fragrance at once intoxicating
And convenient for a hot Saturday noon!
What once was cold Indian tea,
Became a potion for pretending,
travel to exotic lands and social grace
laughter, forgetfulness,
And soliciting.
Soliciting! How’d that get in our tale?
Well, once in a great telling while,
Even a storyteller of great renown
Gets lost in words, my sweet child!
Since we had plenty of potion in sight,
And since were now so small,
We’d no reason to go home,
And oh,
The tale we’d tell was too darn tall!

Ansel, Why?

By Wayne Cook

The clouds drift upward,
Cutting the sun to gray
Burning orange cuts through a hole
A fire of heavenly play

Towering walls; fogged granite,
Fluted rock; earth’s own teeth
Reflections of the hills in the lake
Still waters like silvered leaves

Nearby the branches bend
Creaking wood; popping bark
Morning sun splashed mountains
Darkness shrouds the evergreen hearth

A waterfall plunges breathtakingly
Down the cliff in halos of light
Crashing to splinters of wet below
Fading sun sparkles into night

How could one life and two eyes see
How could one pair of hands do
How could we ever realize the power
Ansel, why did you leave us so soon

Perfume...On a Sunday Afternoon

Dedicated to Corina, whose photography inspires so much of my poetry....

Suddenly, just for a fraction of a second,
I could smell the perfume....
A whiff, like a Sunday afternoon,
Deep in Aunt Kathryn's garden,
Grass cooling my bare white ankles,
Bees buzzing in the heavily scented air,
Then, as quickly, as sensuous,
As had been the evocative thought,
The picture, the sound, the pleasure,
Sadly it was gone....so terribly sad,
Like rose sweetened love, evaporated.
Fluttering through sheer curtains,
Upon a bed of cooled linen sheets,
How wonderful a memory is....
In time, yes….lazily, leisurely,
It will return

I'm A Blue-eyed Son

I was winding down the highway
With a bag and a cheap guitar
Humming Pre Road Downs, kicking rocks
Looking for a passing car

Looked once at that bag
When I sat down to rest
A bedroll, some clothes
Sun settin' in the west

Some fool yelled from a shiny Deuce
New York's the other way!
I was too tired to get mad
So I just laughed and waved

What was I lookin' for ?
Was it a woman or a holy place
Was it Yellowstone or Yosemite
Or sweet Amazing Grace

Was it Yellowstone or Yosemite
Was it just my wander lust, runaway
Can't do that anymore
Leastwise, not where I live today!

I'm a blue-eyed son from Kansas
Product of my momma's eyes
Part of me's in the concrete landscape
Just a tow head boy, with dreamer's eyes

Peach Blossom

Dedicated to my friend, Corina....

This morning,
I peered from my window,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Health giving rays,
A smile from my old friend,
That golden sphere,
But!
My eyes fell on a bush,
The old peach tree in our garden,
Aglow with life and color,
Blossom after blossom,
Joyous sprouting of color,
pink petals,
Miracles of spring.
I saw them,
And my heart knew,
Life was to be renewed,
Surging happiness,
The plant raised its soul,
To thank its creator,
To give honor to Him,
Who had imbued it,
With such glory....
Just a humble plant,
No Lily of the field,
No Iris,
Or Morning Glory,
Just a peach tree.
But God has given,
Even the humble fruited peach,
honor this freshened morn!

Hibiscus World

Always when someone,
So pleasantly announces themselves,
I'm curious as a kitten to come calling,
Gently meowing,
Eyes aglow,
Tail flipping,
Padding softly at your door...
Is this your house?
I ask,
Wondering at the magic,
Of the image before my seeking,
Darting eyes?
It seems to tell a wonderland,
Alive,
Perhaps covered 'neath a Winter snow...
A fantasy in miniature,
This tiny world I see...
What is hiding 'round that corner,
A warm light beckoning me...
Pray tell!

Crisp And Silent

Photo used with permission by Stacy Hamilton

Dedicated to my friend, Renee

Crisp and silent the wood this morn,
Crystals by the millions form,
The birds huddle 'mongst the branches,
By the creek,
We draw a breath,
Early day,
Nature sleeps.
Romance spreads it's warmth and cheer,
Away go pressures and yesterday's fears,
The cold, the crunch, the white of snow,
The purity of God, and mercy flow.
I like it here mid the trees,
Somehow, I can hear His voice of Peace..
Still, small voice,
Awaiting my soul's inner choice,
That calm,
That cleansed mind,
While God waits with His so kind.

A Dear Friend

By Renee Dawson,


A dear friend took a walk with me,
Down our snowy winter lane.
We talked and laughed,
As we took our stroll,
Through all the pines of white.
The sparkling snow,
The chickadees,
Red berries over there...
Everywhere we looked,
The view was just as bright!
Our time together was not enough,
So much to see and do.
This friend of mine,
An Angel must be,
One of God's brightest shining lights!

Droplets

Splashes of color,
Sun light and wind,
Scattering droplets,
Ink that swims,
Patterns and chaos,
Imagination and skill,
Glowing with passion,
Exlosion, creative will

What Secrets Does She Hold?

By Renee

Just a hint of light,
Bringing this beautiful bloom,
Hiding in the shadows,
to life.
What secrets does she hold?

If Ever

If ever I should walk away, it would not be in morning
While daybreak shows the blue of your eyes
Shining in the warmth of the early dawn
No, I couldn’t leave you under this kind of sky

If ever I should turn away, it wouldn’t be at noontime,
The bright sun warming the love of our happy meal
Highlighting you through the print of your cotton dress
No, I couldn’t leave you, while your love I feel

If ever I should say goodby, it wouldn’t be at evening,
‘Cause evening makes you glow with love
Your hair casting golden sparks in the red sunset
No, I couldn’t leave, you’re such an angel from above

If I thought to leave you, it wouldn’t be at night time
Your body close to mine and I touch your silky skin
Night time is for loving and I lay there by your curves
No, I can’t leave you, when you light that fire within

Sunrise

The glow of birth on a joyous morn,
The sun anew, alight, beautifully reborn,
Brief pause in breeze, in tree,
And sky and ground,
Paying homage for the happy return.

The Rose

The rose,
Deep emotional iridescence,
A blend of color, texture,
Line and scent.
So like a woman,
Serene in her art,
Glow of romance,
Beat of her heart,
Passionate red,
Desire of the flower,
Mind and soul,
The touch and power,
Love flows between her and him.
Mind and soul, skin to skin,
The rose quivers beneath the dew,
Morning comes, beauty renewed.

Your Insigficant Fist

There is wonder in the smallest of things,
Whether snail, or leaf,
Or imagined unseen fairy ring,
Hidden beneath bark and its rough-hewn face,
The life of the whole,
Depends on each organism's place.
Each twining of precarious life and death,
Reflects the larger frame,
The fragility of our drawn breath.
Without the small,
The larger does not exist,
Remmember that O soul,
When you tighten your insignficant fist.
Love must precede, envelop,
And come after all,
Else the plan that supports cannot but fall.
Love then, is the answer to prevail,
It must, lest all else fail.

February 29th

You could hear the marble crack, the sound like a rifle shot,
I crouched cold in my steps behind an oak, looking over a railing top
Nothing seemed amiss, up or down the walk,
Must have been a branch, trees sometimes do talk

I stood up to peek about, and heard the snap again
This time I kept my wits, this time I saw one statue bend
Bend! Statues don’t bend! Well, this one did, plain as day!
You have to live on the wild side, to see a statue play

The marble commenced morphing, from mottled white, to pink skin,
Eyes of blue , a billowy white shirt, who would triumph marble or him
The change now complete, he dropped from pedestal to walk
Stood straight, and wiggled his toes—for me, time had abruptly stopped

Striding across the park like grass, held his hands high for a figure,
Still and white and serene, It turned to she, and jumped secure
man and woman, in love, she in his arms, a laugh and a smile,
They clung to each other, for a long, long while

Then walking about hand in hand, his eyes seemed locked to hers,
As if they’d never take each other all in, a mysterious curse
Modestly, in my feeble attempt, to let them be for the hours
I looked away, gave them time, to bend and share the flowers

Finally, they returned, he put her on her stand
Slowly, he watched her return to her marble state again
With tears streaming, down his aqualine nose
He climbed his pedestal, and assume his former pose

He looked at me as if to explain somehow, one last time,
seeing a natural unspoken question in my eye
“To embrace, to kiss, to hold, to find,
We only get a few hours of, one day only, February 29th”

Cruel Mistress

She was living in San Francisco
Just a hundred yards from the bay
Watching the ships steam in and out
And shared the ocean’s play
Her mind would number the boats,
She could name the distant lands,
Of the crews from which they hailed
Then wipe the tears and say,


The ship is your mistress
When you leave your girl behind
You worship a capricious god
And she steals you, O, so blind
You gamble for a pittance
Serving lovers you cannot please
And the sirens songs echo from the seas
Yes, the sirens seduce another man,
To the seas.


She’d watched her father climb the gangway
Of a clipper ship in eighteen eighty six
Her mother held her hand that morn,
The home’s front door had never been fixed
Tears streamed down that woman’s face
Some fear in that woman's way
And the word had come from a trawler
That Davy Jone’s had had his say.


Yes, that ship was a cruel mistress,
And I can near him muttering still
But he’s gone to the locker below
And Jones has gotten his fill
That front door ne’er got the hinge
Nor the garden the new spring seed
For Anson took his chances
Now, Kathryn has his soul indeed.

Lonely Widow's Beds

Ten thousand men were crouching
On the crest of Gafton Hill
Each one with a sharpened sword to bear
All of them a single will
Twas early March and early morn
You see their nervous breath
Before the dark of this English day
Five thousand would meet their death


Ten thousand men would run the vale,
To fight brothers eye to eye,
Cannon ball, arrow and bow,
Death’s stench would reach the sky.
The sky and sun don’t care about,
Your rank, or pause at your name
Their silent witness tells no tales,
Of soldier’s deeds or fame.


You can hear the ghosts of horses,
You and smell the ghosts of men,
If you squint your eyes a bit,
You can see the wars again
The ringing of steel on steel,
The pounding of the hooves
Shaking of mount and moor and hand
I could feel it where I stood.


It takes blood and bone,
Skin and pain to build a single man
It takes blood and blade,
Hell and hate, to kill him where he stands
You swing the sword, sever air,
You can fill the stream with red
But you can never replace the souls,
Or fill lonely widow’s beds.

Love's Milk

It must have been that Monday, now it feels so far away
Maybe the summer sunshine, perhaps a lazy day
You fingers in my hair, you lips across my neck
It became so easy to fall, my life seemed so surreal

Makes the pain sting even more, each time I give a kiss
You face floats before me, of scented air it consists
I could fly forever, when you were my wings
All that lost, all is lost, everything

Your promise lifted me, from dusk to pearly dawn
Then sun broke through turbulent mist, a newborn fawn
I breathed the crystal air, drank the morning breeze
Though tenderness was ever warm, I watched it freeze

How could two hearts so entwined be torn so easily
Words will never describe, words like this are never free
How can you be so calm, old leather dried and cracked
When my drink is poison, love’s milk cannot come back

Maybe this is the way I know, what you can do to me
Just one more day of questions, one more day
Now I know what leaving means, rejection and the pain
‘Cause I’m standing here, just waiting in the rain

The Bolero

He put on a disc of Maurice Ravel
And as the music began to swell
He removed his clothes with careful grace
And drank slowly from the melody’s well

It was soft and mellifluous
And blocked out the memories
Of a love he’d lost 20 years ago,
As he moved the tears cleansed his cheeks

His eyes drifted to the ceiling
Though his gaze went far beyond
To a sky that was blue and happy
And he danced quicker now

She came from the kitchen with her hands wet,
Wiping them on a towel
She’d been doing the dishes alone
Hearing that music up loud

A little perturbed,
She was going to speak to him sharp
Started swaying with the roll of the drums
As she watched him there in the dark

His body was lithe from the movements
And her body began to shake
She could feel the tension inside mount
Her soul started to quake

That passion of 15 years past
She hadn’t felt in a long time
Gradually, a change came over her
As she touched the sublime

Sublime was meant to be shared
And share it they did through the night
Dancing to Ravel
The bolero and the soft morning light