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About This Author
Hi there!
I'm a grandmother, a nursing educator, an avid knitter and an aspiring writer. I created this page for family and friends who expressed interest in reading my writing. It is mostly poetry with a few short stories sprinkled here and there .
The poem on this page is one my Mom favored. The collectible trinket is from a needlework picture of Longfellow's home she completed. Mom loved poetry and was an avid reader. She and my brother, Rasputin   , inspire me still.
I have a published form modification called the Rondel Grand Modified; it is located here:
http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/forums/topic/2842-invented-forms-found-only-at-w...
Drop me a note by clicking on the "Contact Me" link above and let me know you stopped to visit.
Happy reading and write on! |
Helen's Corner - Book I #896739 added November 6, 2016 at 6:33pm
Restrictions: None
My Day
In everyone's life there is a time
When to them all is sublime
I also have a time like this,
A day that's filled with love and bliss,
Most people call it Easter Day
I call it a time when one should pray,
I can hardly wait for it to come,
And when it does I sing and hum
I get up early and quickly dress
I daren't sit down lest I ruin my dress.
Then down to Grandma's I promenade,
We all go to church in the Easter Parade,
There's people and baskets and all sorts of hats
Tall ones and short ones and some like mats,
Everyone's dressed in their Easter best,
For this is a day peace and rest,
The sun comes out, and creeps through our bones,
And only hums and occasional drones
Breaks the silence of the morning bright
Which we waited for throughout the night
I turn my head and cautiously look,
Into the churchyard, my secret nook,
Out there is a sight that warms my heart,
For Easter Baskets from all parts
Have come and been laid with sacred care
To cover our Churchyard lying there.
There is food galore and colors of joy,
In one large glance they look like toys
The sun comes dancing down upon them
While slowly our voices we lift in hymn,
Then out we come and joyously sing
Up through the air our voices ring,
While Our Father upon the baskets bestows
A Blessing which everyone loves and knows,
Then slowly we take our baskets home,
With laughing faces and happy tones,
And Grandma is there at the door to
greet us
While her happy voice breaks the morning
hush
Then Grace is said and we joyously feast
And our happiness never, never, will cease,
For this day to all is Easter Day.
To me it is my happiest day.
Note ▼In poetic story fashion, Mom describes Easter Sunday at the Russian Orthodox Church in Mayfield, PA.
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