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Solitude
By Denny Lancaster
Carefully the leaves he tore,
from the forest heard a roar,
into the distance graciously
stood a lady he had seen before.
A solitary spirit moved swiftly,
edged against the forest green
and swamp moss there could be seen
while the sunshine hid the screen
and the leaves moaned, murmuring.
At once not not hid the shadow,
stood there at his noble side
to vex his once haughty pride,
was nature herself at the window
slid in through the open wall
and Spirits her did follow
with fluttering wings inside.
A hundred years they built anew,
the northern lands of wonder
the forest bare grew a gorgeous castle to begin,
journeys end Spirit Faeries knew
cheer now would not be put asunder.
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Falling Tears
By Denny Lancaster
And now within her granite might,
we write by silvery moonless glimmer
as spirits enter rooms without light,
we read and write past midnight chiming
while mortals sleep in giant buildings
and on our stairway cheer is climibing.
Awake for the sun who scattered light
the stars before shone in the night,
and drove white horses, even strides
quickened by the glory of flight.
There before the phantom morning dried,
we heard our brothers as they cried,
with all the joy swelling, dwelled within
and nodded to the mist vanishing outside.
And, as the cock crowed, those before
harkened to the light at the open door
and wondered how long we would stay
and then departed to return to us no more.
Now the new year brings haunting desires
while the old year of ours in solitude retires,
into the gentle ivy and moses on the bough
and cried to us of Jesus from ground suspires.
Isabella has indeed gone with all his rose,
and a bitter cup again, no one really knows,
but there is growing a rose on the gentle vine,
and breath of the gardener still blows.
May dear Lord a thousand roses bring, you say
yes to we who wish for that gentle yesterday
but this first summer month will bring a rose
and should it take reader and writer away?
Well, then let us be taken away, now strown
that what justice and forgiveness has sown,
where the name of the believers are not forgot
and together we sit with a rose and the throne.
If not then the book of verses underneath the bough,
a loaf of bread, a cup of wine and dear Lord - thou
sit beside us singing in our earthly barren wilderness
oh, wilderness that we wish was paradise now.
Some of the glories and delights of this world, some
signs of the prophets paradise which to us shall come
and some of the earthly treasure and debt to go,
which have not heeded the rumble of a distant drum!
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My Little Faerie
by Denny Lancaster
Oh Faerie have you the loveliest, loved best
or from pages have thoughts your clan prest,
and drunk from the cup of poets before
and one by one helped them to rest?
Ah, said the Faerie, you're like the groom
who has also read poetry that doth bloom,
as for ourselves we seek the couch of earth
descend ourselves to make cheer - for whom!
Unlike those who for the morrow don't prepare,
we take budding poets, their verses to snare,
and when the heart in sorrow to us doth cry,
you know from our verses, we saw you there.
Oh Faerie how did the seed of wisdom we sow,
and with our hands make our own verse grow;
And this is that the Faerie to them replied-
"We came like water, and like the wind we go."
"Into this universe and with the wind blowing,
and the fountain head where verse is flowing;
And out of it, as wind along but not in haste,
we know where a true heart will be going."
But we thought Faeries were from stories old,
or at least this is what we as children were told,
but now we sup from the cup with our feet of clay
and know in our hearts that cheer rules the day.
And the Faerie host flung the curtain of doubt aside,
so into the air of heaven they with you doth ride,
and then offered his cup and invited your soul to drink,
all because from a child like delight you did not shrink.
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Josephine Wall, Artist.
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