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Poems that have been received up to & including June 23, 2007, will be posted on my website when time permits, but due to an overwhelming response I will no longer be accepting any new poems. THANK YOU all for your submissions.

WITHOUT A WORD

If time slips by without a word,
And from my lips you have not heard,
Three small words I hold so dear,
Listen to my heart and you will hear.

And if in my eyes you cannot see,
The reflection of you, inside of me.
You need to take just one more look,
And know it's mine whose heart you took

by Inge M. Sokolowski , Naugatuck, CT
(with permission 10/25/2006)

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BEFORE I CAN'T REMEMBER

My mind is clear now.
I see the sun and know
what day it is.
I know the month and season.
I know my friends,
their names, telephone numbers
and addresses.
One day, I will need your help.
I won't know your name,
or even my own.
I will find the cupboard bare
and think I did go shopping.
They'll turn off the phone;
didn't I pay the bill?
Hazy, hazy sky - is it winter,
or only cloudy September?
Who are you? Wife,
friend or another nurse?
Before I can't remember,
I shall kiss you a million times.
Your heart shall burn deep
into my soul,
and your eyes will merge
with mine.

by Paul R. Davis, Camillus, NY
(with permission 10/25/2006)

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HE WHISPERED HIS LOVE THAT DAY

Did you hear what the blood drops of Jesus said that day?
From Calvary they whispered "I Love You"
Did you bear the cross that He bore that day, for you & me?
From Calvary they whispered "I Love You"
Did you feel the crown of thorns He wore for us that day?
From Calvary it whispered, "I Love You"
Did you cry the tears He shed for you & me that day?
From Calvary He whispered, "I Love You"
Did you hear Him say your very own name, that day,
On Calvary He whispered "I Love You, I Love You"

by Leta Stamps (4-5-1998), Yucca Valley, CA
(with permission 10/27/2006)

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IF I HAD CHOSEN

O If God had said that I could choose a sister for myself,
I would have gone to heaven's store and looked on every shelf. 
There is no doubt that in my search,
I would have chosen you.
Of all the sisters I could fine,
no one would do.
 But even if I had no choice,
I am richly blessed.
Our father in his wisdom knew which one would suit me best,
For when he chose you as my only sister,
He showed me how much he cared.
Yes, Heaven is filled with all good things,
but Linda is the one he shared.

by Debbie Eason, Alexandria, La.
(with permission 10/30/2006)

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TO DAVID

While you were here . . .
And such a short time it was, my dear

You blessed us so richly,
Touched us so deeply,
And taught us to love.

From our Father's heart you were sent
To convey His love in such a way
Unmistakable, though never spoken,
Translated through a sweet angelic spirit.

You were the diamond sparkle of dew,
Caught by the light of the Son,
Then radiated to us.

by Carol Pointer, Oregon City, OR
(with permission 11/05/2006)

This was written about our developmentally disabled Son who passed away at age 16 years old.

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THE SHORE OF MY NAME

Today, the dolphins are silent.
Rocks reveal their sadness,
my feet leave no shadow.
I have seen the sunrise,
wondering if the sun has
kept its warmth.
This sandswept place has not defined me;
cliffs behind me where swallows sleep
in summer.
A shore will always follow me,
my name in silent sands,
in constant tides.
Today, the children play,
their games important.
The world holds their names in clouds.

by Paul R. Davis, Camillus, NY
(with permission 11/05/2006)

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MOUNTAINEER

The climb is on! The day grows clear
And clearer on each height;
The peaks, once distant, stand so near,
Washed in the Autumn light.

One ancient, white-capped silhouette
Rears high to prompt your pace;
New graces, strengths undreamed of yet
Await you on its face.

You are the climber, yet unspent,
And armed with every tool,
To map each leg of your ascent
With faith as chart and rule.

High up the mountain, past halfway,
You cannot see it whole:
You move by visions yesterday
Had seared into your soul.

The foothills fall away and soon,
The aspens gold is passed;
Brisk breezes kick the drifts of noon,
The sun runs warm and fast.

When finally you top the crest
To flag the peak your own,
Our Lord bends low and says, "Come, rest,"
And lifts you to His throne.

by Ruth Joan Geiger, Starkville, MS
(with permission 11/08/2006)

In honor of my beloved cousin, Dr. Ken Wilkinson, a Distinguished Professor at Penn State University, who died at fifty - five, written at his request and read after his death at a Celebration of his Life

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