A Survival Of Love
On a mid-winter's night
when the stars were bright
a stranger came into town.
As he looked around
it was then that he found
that all of the ground was white.
It was beautiful to see
and he wondered if she
would be looking out at the snow?
All the time he'd been gone
as he approached the front lawn,
he prayed that there she would be.
His hands were so cold.
They were wrinkled and old
but they remembered the feel of her face.
So much time had passed by.
Many tears they did cry,
not knowing what their future did hold,
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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America, America
America, America, what's happened to this land?
You've been taken over by a hungry, thirsty band
of liars, cheats and robbers that don't care what they do
to all your people dedicated to the red, white and blue.
How did this all happen? Were we all asleep?
Or did we just become a flock of simple minded sheep,
taking for granted that things would stay the same?
I. for one am certain that some are not to blame.
Those who saw it happening and gave it all they had.
They ended up in early graves or driven stark-raving mad.
Many tried to warn us. They knew just what was coming.
They saw it in their visions and heard it in the humming,
the humming of the songs very different than our own,
the song we pledged our lives to, the song that meant our home.
Now we see in horror that flags of others rise above
the one that flew for all of us in this land we love.
America, America you were the melting pot.
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Family Urn
In the corner of a white marbled hall
stood the most beautiful urn.
For years it was handily polished
and oh how it did yearn
to give forth the stories of all its years
to all those whose eyes did turn
to marvel at the sight of it
and how it had been made.
But the stillness of all things inanimate
kept its stories untold and staid.
It remembered how it had been the receptacle
of long stemmed roses and fern,
tended to by members of the family,
each of them taking their turn
to collect them from their gardens
and arrange them with great pride.
It felt all eyes looking its way
to see what it held inside.
Surely it would always stay this way,
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Calling
How far down the road
Do you have to go
Before you can see,
Before you can know
If you've traveled correctly
And are where you should be?
Who has these answers?
Who can it be?
No one can tell you
Which road is best?
The road you are on
Is only your test.
Others can watch
And observe your choices.
But they cannot hear
Your inner voices.
They cannot know
What's in your heart.
They cannot see
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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