Public Posts

The Things I Love

A butterfly dancing in the sunlight,
A bird singing to his mate,
The whispering pines,
The restless sea,
The gigantic mountains,
A stately tree,
The rain upon the roof,
The sun at early dawn,
A boy with rod and hook,
The babble of a shady brook,
A woman with her smiling babe,
A man whose eyes are kind and wise,
Youth that is eager and unafraid—
When all is said, I do love best
A little home where love abides,
And where there’s kindness, peace, and rest.

Scottie McKenzie Frasier (1884-1964) was an American teacher, poet, author, newspaper editor, lecturer, and socialite. She was born in Talladega, Alabama. She did newspaper work for four years in New York City and while there, she became a suffrage advocate and a member of the League of Women Voters She moved back to  to Dothan, Alabama where she went on to be a co-founder of the Dothan Equal Suffrage Association. Frasier's activities during World War I included being a Four Minute Speaker, a group of volunteers authorized by United States President Woodrow Wilson, to give four-minute speeches on topics given to them by the Committee on Public Information (CPI).

This poem is in the public domain.

Great the season,
but thats isn't all,
for Halloween is coming.
Be afraid, you all.

No grave to day,
to dance upon,
so you may choose
to move along.

Come back tomorrow,
if you must dance,
for I am certain,
you'll have another chance.

I talk of pain.
I like it not.
It feels it will break,
but am afraid it's naught.

My body,
has turned away,
from my special journey.
I'm on my way.

Last night, I thought,
I was gone.
Perhaps, it's now?
Who can tell,

as my soul is gone
a highway, I know well,
a ancient road,
to Perdition, Hell.

Now!
When the pain,
within this shell,
becomes too much,
it's time to tell.

Saying words,
not good for me,
but good,
for their own necessity.

I am dying.
I feel it now.
I must fulfill,
my promised vow.

So, what are the odds?
We scurry through life,
in a race, just a blur, while wondering
about a direction, which we knew was absurd.

Are we alert to our happenings,
which in abandon
where they lay,
or would you rather move on,
and stay out of the way?

I've walked the,
dark and nasty trail,
in this so crazy life,
I cannot reveal,

what a mess to me,
to be where I'm not free.
Not to be a whining one,
for I see what I see.

When everyday objects,
begin to fall off the wall,
will that be enough,
will that be all,

or is it a prelude of,
what happens soon,
as we cover our fate,
with a perpetual gloom?

There may never be,
a chance like this,
where we seal it with a handshake
and a small,
sweet kiss.

Life is a gamble,
sometimes you can add a lot.
About the only thing,
we've already got.

Poetic license is in vouge
at this time.
So, it's painted a picture,
which may not rhyme.

When I write to you,
unlike this day,
It's because it's time,
to do with and say,

Hello good friends,
enjoy the ocean shore,
for it's my favorite place,
to hear the waves roar,

as the waves, crash below,
as Seagulls do their thing,
soaring, making me sing.

You need me not,
you never did,
but you would tease,
"Oh, you kid."

Words should
come, here now,
bringing a feeling,
of here and now.

I'm finding it hard
to be here, a chore,
for I like it not.
Not anymore.