Lament of the Night Watchman

(Mayberrie’ series)

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His castle rests on brambled shores

near curling leaves and browning lawn

as ivy coils through empty doors

where once his golden sword was drawn.

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For long ago the tower stood

shaped by wind and gleaming stones

and from the chapel in the wood

they heard the bell and felt the groans

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of lovers locked in false embrace

of thunder scavenged from the deep

where only he could show his face -

his mistress turned away to weep.

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They could not march beyond the hill

for fate had measured out their time

and all they touched was cold and still

and none could prove there’d been a crime.

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A dozen years but none to save

for lovers no more ring the bell.

Calla lilies crown the graves

where once an army rose and fell.

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And now the castle sleeps on shores

near curling leaves and browning lawn

as ivy coils across the floors

where once Excalibur was drawn.

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©  1993,  2012   Betty Hayes Albright

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Tale of Two Needles

 

(re-post from August – revised)

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(with apologies to Charles Dickens)

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Was Madame DeFarge

recording events

or was she creating reality

with the click-click

of her needles?

Yarn spun from infinity,

scarf stretched to eternity -

like you and me

in the worst of times

we knit and pearl them

into our best.

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©  1999, 2012   Betty Hayes Albright

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If memory serves me correctly (from high school!) Charles Dickens’  A Tale of Two Cities takes place during the French Revolution and begins,  “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.

Madame DeFarge was an old woman who sat on the sidelines, always knitting and observing events. It was implied that she was somehow encoding history into her knitting – an idea I found intriguing.

 

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After we are Gone

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When a tree is taken down

we grieve its silhouette collapsing

from a stricken sky.

It leaves a phantom

in the corner of our eye,

the shadow of a stolen trunk,

the staunching of osmosis.

And so we wet the earth

with tears

and scatter seeds

among the foddered roots

and lo!

we hear a Gaia song -

a forestation aria

of green

that fills

the empty valley

after we are gone.

 .

 

© 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

 

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Living Color

.         (from 1966 – age 19)

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At first I lived in black and white,

the nights were dark, the days were light

and in between there was a grey

that hardly changed from day to day.

 .

Laughter sprang from shallow seas,

leafing elms 3-8-2012

my tears were trivialities.

I walked on by and couldn’t bear

the colors burning everywhere.

 .

But then one spring the blue-bells tolled

of leaves in green and suns in gold,

of hearts that pulsate ripe and red,

love burst in rainbows ‘bout my head!

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(c) 1966,   2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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(It’s not quite spring yet, but it’s coming! )

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Shell

(A Mayberrie’ series poem)

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She pretends

that he can hear her thoughts,

but lord, the fog is rolling in -

it rides the tide into the caverns

smoothing out the lover’s hollow

in between the driftwood and debris.

One time she found a double shell

and gave him half to hold his heart

while hers stayed in a candle box

until the day it shattered

from the impact of his silence.

But still she holds the pieces near

and when the moon is full, pretends

that he can hear her thoughts

but knows most likely

they are muzzled

by the sea.

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(c)  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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Hello Sky (a children’s poem)

.       (from 1970)

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Someday I’m going to climb a tree

to reach its very highest limb

and there I’ll sit and listen to

the merry music of the wind.

Spying on the world below

from my secret hiding place

I’ll chuckle softly to myself

each time a bird flies past my face.

I’ll hug a branch and sing out loud:

way up here my eyes can fly!

Then climbing down most carefully

I’ll whisper, see you later, sky.

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(c)  1970,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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Sister

(Written in 1992… I don’t usually post such “heavy” poems, and promise to post something cheerier next time.)

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I didn’t cry

1949

when my brother died.

Everyone around me did

but I was just in shock

that my wish

for more attention

from my parents

had come true.

My fleeting thoughts

had killed him

and put my mom

to bed with grief

and made my daddy drink.

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They all went to the funeral,

I was too young, they said.

But I knew the real reason

and stayed at home

with guilt as my discomforter

and none to share the blame.

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(c)  1992,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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(My brother, whom I idolized, was eight when he died of polio in 1952. I was five.  From the onset of the disease to his death, only 48 hours passed. Through the years no one talked about it. Of course my parents were devastated, and they didn’t have “grief counseling” back then. It took 40 years for me to finally come to terms with my feelings.)

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Happy Valentine’s Day! ♥

This was originally written 20 years ago for my “E-Friends” on Prodigy (remember those days of electronic bulletin boards and 24 baud  modems?)

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Electronic friends,

how can you be real?

I can’t hear your voice

yet I hear how you feel.

 .

I just touch a key

while you do the same,

then I read your words

and you see my name.

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You have no dimension

except on my screen –

we’re strangers, and yet

we confide, sight unseen.

 .

You don’t have a face,

where you live I don’t know,

yet you come through my modem –

then where do you go?

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(c) 1992, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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Now I know “where you go” – into my heart and soul! 

Twenty years later we’re blogging on something called the “internet” – with full color and sounds and photos and more.  Thankfully there is now such a thing as WordPress where I’ve met so many great writers.

A Valentine’s Day thank you to everyone!  ♥

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In Dreams

.     .    .      (re-post from August)

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In dreams you know

the who of me.

You press me to your chest

like a missing rib, bare

and white.

You breathe into my lungs;

your blood is fire

in my veins.

The visions in my heart

are your visions.

The toil of your brow

fills my cup.

We melt secrets

between our limbs.

In dreams you know

the why of me

and I know the everywhere

of you.

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(c)  1995  Betty Hayes Albright

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Hydrogen Atom (or Chemistry 101)

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You are nucleus

stable, self-contained,

I am electron

buzzing-surround

caught by attraction

held firmly in orbit

unable to split.

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©  1982,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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