my poetry is what i will leave the world
my parents wanted a trophy, not a person
my sister never wanted a sister
i couldn't comprehend what my mate wanted
my children have abandoned me
my grandchildren will never know me
i am a garden enclosed and so few
have ever entered my bolted gates
or bothered to look over my stone walls
my poetry is the only legacy i will leave...
that and the few hearts mine touched
and embraced with loving empathy
along a path where they briefly crossed
in a dream that we once shared
so please don’t try to tell me
how to draft my last will and testament
don’t expect me to choose your expressions
my words, my spirit contained in words,
these are all i can bequeath to a world
who may soon forget them.... and me
Belle,PattiAnn sent me the link to this site trhough you.I had to come and read some of your poems and some of hers I have also joined here.I thought this was very Sad.Little blue Angel(badmac)
LA BELLE!!!! What simply gorgeous pictures you paint here... You ARE that precious and enclosed space in one human form that will flower and blossom for ever, through each and every successive phase and stage of life and every season, come rain or shine. Ever productive, your will and testament will not only be your own richly harvested fruit but the seed you have sown and will go on to sow contained within your life-giving words. "Age shall not wither her nor custom stale her infinite variety"... words attributed to Cleopatra by Shakespeare's Antony. We are blessed to find shelter within your loving walls, Belle. You make us grow. And always, always will. Love, Kate xx
NEVER! NEVER! NEVER! Will you be forgotten, My Precious Sissy! As long as my body has breath, I will love and treasure you! I say TO HELL with all that can't see your worth and value, they are ignorant fools, and aint worth a poot in a whirlwind! Ya alway gots me Babe! I LOVE YOU! Sweet Sissy
This is such a sad and lonely poem. Very thought provoking also. Even when you were absent from the Den for awhile I still always searched for your name. So you were not forgotten. I'm sure I'm not the only one also. Someone so rich in beauty and words is never easily forgotten. There has been so many from the Den of yesterday that I treasure and will always hold close in my heart. So just remember, although gone we are never forgotten. Bless You Always, Paul.
You will be remembered more than you think, sweet friend.
I agree with what you've said of your poetry -- it will be
remembered because it is always honest and from a loving
heart. I have grown to admire and love that heart of yours.
Needless to say, this one brought tears because I feel the
pain and sadness in this poem. I love you, La Belle.
A very powerful write, but I detect undertones mixed in. Your beautiful poetry will fly forever through the internet and elsewhere like a summer's neverending breeze....
Be safe,
Karen
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
I doubt if you will ever be forgotten........and you had better be around for quite a few years young lady!!!!!!!!
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
Very touching indeed...Hugsssss
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
Your words are always tugging, molding, melding with everyone who reads your work, Belle. You are indeed, a garden of the first water. The rest doesn't count in the long run. We answer for ourselves in the end.
Elizabeth
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
No millions in the bank, we'll just have to rethink the bike shed, unless you can whisper sweet 100 year old ladies names in my shell like...
This is powerful, Belle...so very powerful~
Our poetry is a piece of our hearts, set out for the world to accept or reject. But it is always our own.
This was lovely.
Love,
Susan
Reviewed by Lewis Findley (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
Belle this has to be the most truly heartspoken piece you have ever penned.
Of course...an everlasting metaphor so as the freedom of speech...we put you with shepherds, seaman, and courtesans who went before us La Belle...like a learned astronomer, nothing clouds the sky here in this den, reading a poet/poetesses work requires the right attitude as does skywatching...you will never be forgotten in your writing circles...never retreat from the fringes of romantic and erotic folklore...Blessed Be.
Sage
Reviewed by NONE NONE (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
I thought this was very good Belle *hugs*
Reviewed by Lydia Shutter (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2007
La Belle, the intensity of emotion expressed in this spectacular poem touched me deeply. Incredible! Lydi**
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
She never felt safe at home as a young girl, and didn't understand why when she finally escaped she wasn't safe in the big wide world either ...effectively jumping out of the frying pan into the fire!
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But fear not, poetic words can breathe forever.
Peace and sunshine
HH
This is such a sad and lonely poem. Very thought provoking also. Even when you were absent from the Den for awhile I still always searched for your name. So you were not forgotten. I'm sure I'm not the only one also. Someone so rich in beauty and words is never easily forgotten. There has been so many from the Den of yesterday that I treasure and will always hold close in my heart. So just remember, although gone we are never forgotten. Bless You Always, Paul.
But probably a much finer legacy than many others will leave.
Thanks,
Dan
I agree with what you've said of your poetry -- it will be
remembered because it is always honest and from a loving
heart. I have grown to admire and love that heart of yours.
Needless to say, this one brought tears because I feel the
pain and sadness in this poem. I love you, La Belle.
Kate**
Hope I will get more to read from you for a very long time!!
Love Tinka
Be safe,
Karen
Elizabeth
Our poetry is a piece of our hearts, set out for the world to accept or reject. But it is always our own.
This was lovely.
Love,
Susan
Sage