society says
and skills
are most
I think
it kills
must be
than that
I know people
who are
to speak
’cause they don’t
talk good
couldn’t write
any better
pretty bad
I had a friend
who killed himself
his people
were very
on his note
he misspelled
I wrote
on his headstone
George is dead
died and
gone to hell
’cause he
couldn’t spell

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Silence by Eveline Wallace

Before I step forward I listen
And I’m hearing wonderful things
The voice that guides and councils
And the whisper of angel wings

Priest’s Vigil

Oh! king of the starry night,
Thou crouched lion
Shake thou thy star-filled mane
And guide great Pharaoh
Adrift in his star boat
To the shoreless sea
Set his soul toward the regions of light
Let him veer not
Open wide they jaws and let thy thunder
Startle the stars that they map well
The charted path
While dark Egypt sleeps below
And speed Pharaoh on his way

Our Cherry Tree on Windermere Street

As soon as they could walk
She invited them to climb
Our cherry trees been sheltering us
A long long time

Somber and invicible
Against the dark night skies
Like stars amid her branches
Like watching restless eyes

In spring it’s so astounding
We just stand and stare
She’s so completely gorgeous
With blossoms in her hair

And she’s totally outrageous
Her wonders never cease
For in the mid of summer
A red-lipped seductive feast

She plays with us in autumn
Throwing her red leaves aground
We pick them up, toss them back
And joyfully run around

In winter she is quiet though
And likes to meditate
We whisper as we tip-toe by
And wait and wait and wait