Images in Thought

The Ghost of Goshen...

2011-10-31T06:52:00.000-07:00

THE GHOST OF GOSHEN

Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow,
Where rushing rills, with flash and flow,
Are over the rough rocks falling;
Where fox, where bear, and catamount hide,
In holes and dens In the mountain side,
A Circuit-preacher once used to ride,
And his name was Rufus Rawling.

He was set in his ways and what was strange,
If you argued with him he would not change,
One could get nothing through him.
Solemn and slow In style was he,
Slender and slim as a tamarack tree,
And always ready to disagree
With every one that knew him.

One night he saddled his sorrel mare,
And started over to Ripton, where
He had promised to do some preaching.
Away he cantered over the hill,
Past the schoolhouse at Capen's mill;
The moon was down and the place was still,
Save the sound of a night-hawk screeching.

At last he came to a deep ravine,
He felt a kind of queer, and mean
Sensation stealing o'er him.
Old Sorrel began to travel slow,
Then gave a snort and refused to go;
The parson chucked, and he holloa'd "whoa,"
And wondered what was before him.

Then suddenly he seemed to hear
A gurgling groan so very near,
It scattered his senses nearly.
"Go 'ome, go'ome," It loudly cried,
"Go 'ome," re-echoed the mountain side,
"Go 'ome," away In the distance died-
He wished he was home sincerely.

And then before his startled sight,
A light flashed out upon the night
That seemed to "beat all creation."
Then through the bushes a figure stole,
With eyes of fire and lips of coal,
That froze his blood and shook his soul
With horror and consternation.

He lost his sermon, he dropped his book,
His hair stood up, and his saddle shook
Like a sawmill under motion
.No cry he uttered, no word he said,
But, suddenly turning Sorrel's head,
Away and out of the woods he fled
As fast as he could for Goshen.

The ghost he saw and the rattling bones
Were a pumpkin, a gourd, and some gravel stones,
That gave him all that glory;
But ne'er again up that mountain side,
In the light would Rufus Rawling ride,
And many a time I've laughed till I cried
To hear him tell the story.

-Anonymous

~eyes, the portal...

2011-08-22T13:55:00.000-07:00

eyes, the portal....

that portal,
allowing me to
tread upon a
chiseled
staircase, that
winds to the
basement
of your soul,
dusting off
volumes that
hold
akashic
remnants,
revealing bits
of you that fall
from broken
flasks, spilling
your innermost
thoughts upon
open palms,
while your
secrets
flutter away
upon
a draft....

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved...

Catnip...

2011-08-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

Catnip.....

Come, succumb, my feline friend...
An herbacous gift of mint...
Breathe in the soft, subtle scents,
Visions on your mind imprint...

Of milk-laden bowls you dream,
Endless seafood piled so high...
Napping in foliage green,
Troubles dissolve with a sigh...

Cool calmness surrounds your world,
You smile at the butterfly,
Heart pounding, jubilation,
Soaring bluebirds fill your sky...

Bountiful thoughts of field mice,
Toys on a bright sunny day...
Grasshopper stalks at twilight,
A game that you love to play...

When ambling inside tonight,
Glance at the catnip treasure,
Cause' tomorrow is another day
For hallucinating pleasure...

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved...

Dusk at the edge of the lawn....

2011-08-08T19:47:00.000-07:00

Dusk at the edge of the lawn......

Dragonfly on dew-kissed grasses,
silent gossamer wings are still.....
Stalking, a carefree brown spider,
with determined, unending skill....

His feast on arachnid sweetness,
whets his appetite voracious....
Living from pond to pond traveling
Vigilant and predaceous....

Uninterested was the toad,
the waterfall his oasis....
He favored skipping water gnats,
a fast food meal was his basis....

Tongue caressing the prey quickly,
'down the hatch' is twilight play,
But, hidden beneath lily pads,
in the sun's scorching heat of day....

Birds wrapped snuggly in feathered wings,
atop branches of silent trees......
Dreaming of tomorrow's new flights,
amid a warm, summertime breeze....

Their songs will open the morning,
the lemon sun brushing the leaves....
Serenades of warbling finches,
As a mourning dove softly grieves...

Fireflies dance in sparkling patterns,
lending magic to evening's end.....
Young princesses watch with wonder,
in their faery-world of pretend...

As the sun slips into his cloudbed,
sleeping soundly, awaiting dawn,
I hold watercolor memories,
of dusk at the edge of the lawn....

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved...

Summertime Haikus...

2011-07-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

Watermelon....

Succulent slices...
Juicy bounty from the vine,
Coolness in swallows...

Butterfly....

Mysterious soul,
Tiffany winged messenger
Gliding on the breeze...

Lemonade....

Pungent refresher,
golden gift from lemon tree,
sweetening taste buds....

Lightnin' Bugs....

Sentinel of dusk,
Alerting that darkness comes,
fading at sunrise...

S'Mores...

ooey, gooey, yum,
grahams, marshmallows, and chocolate,
at the old campfire...

I hope that you enjoyed the Haikus...
Thanks for visiting.~!!

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved

The dog days of Summer....

2011-07-22T15:03:00.000-07:00

The dog days of Summer....

Please excuse me now, if I don't get up...
Been tired and fatigued since I've been a pup...
And, the dog days of Summer have rolled 'round...
Which makes me even grouchier,... I've found...

Don't wanna' chase squirrels or even the cats...
Don't even mention my master's mean brats~!
Just leave me here 'neath the shade of this tree..
No fetchin', no trekkin', just let me be!....

Weather creepin' to a hundred degrees....
Just a morsel of food and water, please...
If I growl and am distasteful to you...
I'm sorry, I'm just so bushed through and through...

Maybe, the return of a coolin' breeze,
And, the migration of these danged ol' fleas...
Will spark me to follow some scented trails...
But, my body says laziness prevails...

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved

Just silence.....

2011-07-08T12:27:00.000-07:00

~Just silence.....

I grabbed a piece of blue
from the Sky,
Inhaled its nothingness,
pausing only to allow clouds
to fall as quiet cotton upon silk...
Sounds were not
announcing themselves..

I passed hushed trees with emerald
Sleeping Leaves....
Rocks below my feet only moved in
aggravation...
they strained to be quiet.

A Butterfly applauded silently
as he lifted his tiffany soul
from spent daisies...

A Breeze rushed,
as to catch up with me,
enveloping me within
a cloak of awareness....
It did not speak....

My soul, alone, listened to
whispers from myself...
Displays came and went visually,
but with no sound card...

Then as a lethargic Sun plunged
into a candy stream to swim to
the other side of the Earth...

The Breeze left me with a soft kiss
to my cheek, and ran ahead to play
with mute Whipoorwills....

And, they all remained silent...

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved..

He's the dumpster man...

2011-06-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

He's the Dumpster Man......

Dawn brings stretches from damp cardboard...
His newspaper damp as well...
Rain has set in furiously,
Makin' life a livin' hell...

His muscles ache, head a throbbin',
The thunder claps shakin' his soul....
With a face full of cold raindrops,
He feels 'bout a 100 years old...

Harley his chum, groaned, "G'mornin"
Shiftin' his jacket 'round...
Ol' couch cushion propped behind him,
Thunderbird on the ground..

"Whatz breakfast?", the Dumpster Man says...
Gatherin' up a wad of socks....
Fingers stiff in woolen gloves
Rummagin' the KFC box...

The word on the street is he's trusted,
Splits his findin's when he can...
His reputation is helpin',
Most call him the Dumpster Man...

"Let's wash-up at Tony's Station,
Then try and get warm with a cup...
We'll go by that constuction site,
Who knows what might turn up"

Morning passes.... the rain pours down,
Cans fall with a clank in the cart...
Winds bring sneezes and shivers,
He knows he won't hit his mark...

Further on down Hickory street,
A baglady counts out her cans...
She barters for a woolen scarf,
From the stash of the Dumpster Man...

Noontime scores some Twinkies,
from a dumpster back of a store....
The torrents slammed 'em harshly,
Or they woulda' searched for more...

Recycle bins belched up bottles,
Carefully swapped for cash.....
A coupla' loaves of french bread,
Scarfed from the restaurant's trash....

"Harley, we gotta' get some chow,
The Mission's servin' stew"...
The storm just wasn't lettin' up,
And, dusk warned nightfall was due...

The streets ran rivers of water...
Lightnin' struck the radio tower....
Findin' a place to lay their heads,
Was dwindlin' by the hour....

Luck would have it.... under the bridge,
A dry spot with a patch of grass....
Spreadin' out some garbage bags,
'Til mornin',..this would have to last...

His feet soakin' wet, blisters sore,
Blankets wrapped best he can...
He closes his eyes and dreams of when,
He was not the Dumpster Man....

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved

An old friend's goodbye....

2011-05-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

~an old friend's goodbye...*~

~i have an old friend that lies ill now,
..not important about her name...
i see her tear-stained face clearly
through the yellow candle flame...

~she fights valiantly for her weary soul,
as she rests upon pillow of white...
bitter tears flow softly, silently,
in the dimmed hospital lights...

~the clock moves so slowly, as she
sees images of loved ones dear...
her own image is fading,
as she gazes into the mirror....

~lines etched from medications,
from alcohol for many years...
trembling hands reach to touch her lips
to stifle mounting fears...

~family knows the pain that she bears now,
a mixture of grief and remorse...
for the hand that was dealt brutally,
lifetime karma running its course...

~memories flood her heart now fully,
as she feels the 'light' coming near..
inviting with love and warm brightness,
indeed, her solace is here...

~a messenger with halo golden, whispers
to her guides one by one....
as they smile upon her sweetly,
knowing her suffering is done...

~she will fly with the eagle that beckons,
that circles the twilight sky...
just another new journey tomorrow...
...as the soul will never die....

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved...

Backyard etheree....

2011-04-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

The basic etheree form has ten lines, the first consisting of exactly one syllable, the second line of two syllables, and so on until the last line's ten syllables. An etheree can also be reversed, starting with ten syllables and ending with one♥~

Backyard etheree....

Soft
Raindrops
are falling,
dancing upon
the spa-like birdbath,
refreshing the water
for weary, feathered beauties
that share secrets of far journeys
across Mother Nature's vast blue skies,
and soothe wind-spent wings with cool nourishment.

A
garden
gleams with hope
of the Sun's smile
to warm fragile leaves
that wriggle to stay strong.
Seed packets marking their crop,
Jousting for position by rows,
Expanding, boasting with pride for show.
Veggies, summertime vittles for picnics..

A
flower
blossoming
Kaliedascope..
Rich rainbow colors..
Cosmos, orange marigolds,
dark purple veronica,
Yellow sunflower faces smile
at soft butterfly kisses, galore...
Peacefully, gently dancing in the breeze...

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved

Azure skies...

2011-04-03T09:17:00.000-07:00

Azure skies.....

~Azure skies,
smooth as silk,
with cat-napping
clouds, lulled
by a gentle
breeze that
whispers
sleep.....

~A
rainbow
dissolves into
a Cheshire
Cat smile
through the
treetops...

~The Sun
beginning to
yawn, as
twilight comes
to kiss him
good-bye...

~The Evening
Star debuts
next to the
hint of a
bashful moon....

~Then...Pastel
creaminess
slowly brushes
itself across
azure skies...

Margaret LaVonne Hall
Copyright 2003/2012
All rights reserved....

Cruella...

2011-03-29T09:43:00.000-07:00

Cruella......

In the village of Effingham
Cruella plagued the town...
She, wreakin' havoc from dawn,
'til the Sun went down...

But, no one knew if she slept,
Some say she never did!
Many times at the Midnight Hour,
in the shadows she hid...

She cut blossoms off of roses,
at the Mayor's prize garden bed....
Poured salt into the punch bowl,
when Widow Ellis wed~!

She's been seen stealin' kid's cookies,
even pies from windowsills...
And, her rude, impromptu solos,
gave the congregation chills...!

She smudges kiddie's hopscotch squares,
busts up little boy's marble games,
And, as Clyde and Elmer play chess,
she very quietly hides their canes...

She popped balloons at parties,
Turned the hose on passersby!
The Mailman and the Milkman
didn't even give it a try~!!

Many say she's just plain nosey,
eavesdroppin' here and there...
Twistin' the truth, spreadin' gossip,
around the fountain square~!

She's swiped apples at the market,
Books from Library shelves...
Birdhouses from park settin's...
Even.....taken Garden Elves~!!

She's opened cages at the pet shop,
laughin' in a high-pitched glee!!
Wilst puppies, canaries, and cats
were scamperin' and runnin' free~!

Wives have wept when their belongin's
were snatched from backyard clotheslines,
Seems they caught a glimpse of Cruella,
but couldn't catch her in time...!

But, when a piecework quilt appeared
in Springtime at the County Fair...
Sure enough, in colorful blocks,
snippets of their laundries were there~!!!

No one knows Cruella's story...
No one really cares to be told...
So, Cruella still meanders,
being obnoxious and quite bold~!!

Copyright © 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved

I am Spring.....

2011-03-19T10:29:00.000-07:00

I am Spring....

Splashing waxen
daffodils, in secret
meadow nooks,
whilst tucking
blue hyacinths
beneath napping
oaks...

Sweetening
honeysuckle vines,
mesmerizing the
senses of sipping
butterflies...

Nestling songbirds
in the tresses of
graceful willows,
that ballet within
warm breaths
of southern breezes...

Gifting dormant
orchards
with explosions of
sweet-scented
blossoms,
and promise of
plump bounty...

Dissolving Winter's
grasp upon crystal-
edged streams,
sending them
to marry with
anxious rivers...

Awakening
sleeping dandelions
to frolic among
emerald blades...

Setting clocks of
vernal equinox
souls, to snuggle
within the arms
of Mother
Nature...

Forever renewing,
I am SPRING.....

~let me paint you poetry...

2011-03-08T10:02:00.000-08:00

~let me paint you poetry...

~i shall brushstroke the
golden sunset upon the
canvas of your mind....

allowing warm pastels
to seep into the
edge of your twilight,

smearing a water-colored
smile across the face
of the sun...

just in time for
him to see his
reflection in
the moon....

Copyright 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved....

On the cusp of Indigo....

2011-03-04T08:34:00.000-08:00

As Earth weeps during Winds of Change,
Come I...the One of Indigo...
To teach through the trials and pain,
Starseed Child of years ago....

I bring nourishment for the Soul...
As 2012 takes it's breath...
And, as many see the coming doom
of pestilence and death....

I ...

....Only seek Enlightenment,
Refreshing the Planet in thought...
Indigo Children still drift here,
Bringing what they were taught...

Listen to the vibrance in words...
Embracing a bright positive self...
Enveloping into Oneness,
From darkness into Light,...to delve...

Seek Healers and Lightworkers,
Crystalline Souls to bring peace...
The Awakening is now here,
Let Negativity be released....

May you get deeper understanding,
Catapulting you into the Light...
Another state of consciousness,
As your heart takes flight....

Listen within the Ethers....
The message is loud and clear....
The time for the Transformation....
Is now so very near....

...Margaret, an Indigo Elder...

Copyright © 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved

The Colorful Quilt of Erma....

2011-03-02T09:17:00.000-08:00

The Colorful Quilt of Erma......

To piece a quilt of beauty,
There need be colorful hues.....
Carefully placed in patterns,
A Rainbow from which to choose....

A "Log Cabin", or just squares,
"Applique" or just "Bow Tie"....
The stitching is important,
And, please, let me tell you why...

To make a quilt of Erma,
One begins with colors warm....
Reds from the Southern sunsets,
Where she grew up on the farm....

Brisk Oranges of noon-day toil,
alongside dear kith and kin....
On parched earth with bag in hand,
For the county's cotton gin...

Comes the Yellow of Springtime,
With plantings of rows with seeds..
With her Dear Father she loved,
Crops for the family's needs...

Green for bounty of Summer,
With fine vegetables galore,
Her loving Mother's wisdom,
Canning, perserving to store....

Soft Blue for the open skies,
O'er their world of childhood fun..
Pranks and laughter abounding...
Midst Nature til day was done....

Then selecting Indigo,
For strife and dim, darker days....
Illness and death introduced,
Brought to her a sad, grim phase...

The Violet glows with Love,
In marriage and children blessed...
Grandkids added to the mix,
Fill her heart and soul with zest..

Piecing the blocks together,
Crisp white borders at each end....
A cotton collage of Erma.....
The woman that I call friend....

Copyright © 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved

i never promised you a rose garden...

2011-03-01T09:54:00.000-08:00

~"i never promised you a
spinning earth," said he..
"or diamond stars,.. or
even the moon..."
~"my field of flowers
belong to me," he mused,
"just see how full they bloom..."

~"my fireflies in the
mason jar are just for
my midnight dreams.."
~"can't share them with
you," he said.."everything
is brighter it seems..."

~"i only wanted you," he
said, "to place rainbows
in my heart.."
~"to be my sunshine in troubled
times...to lead me
out of the dark..."

~but, i shared how i loved
his rose garden with
colors of many shades..
~alas, he must not have
heard me speak, as he
shoveled them
with his spade...

~"i never promised you a
rose garden!"..he spoke,
"nor the infamous ring
of gold...."
~"i can only offer you
one single rosebud,"..
and his tone had
begun to get cold...

~i reached and took the
rosebud..and pressed it
to my aching heart..
~thinking as he strode
away,..that we soon would
surely part...

~his " i never promised you
a rose garden"...ran
thru my heart so deep...
~the petals fell softly
from the rosebud, and
my soul began to
weep...

Copyright 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved

Come I, the newborn Soul....

2011-02-28T11:56:00.000-08:00

Come I, the newborn Soul....

Earthen Death came to claim my Soul,
Taking me from an empty shell......
Sending me gently through the Cosmos,
In a Reincarnation spell...

Evaluating this Lifetime....
Recounting the journey below.....
Basking within the Oneness,
Inhaling the gentle, soft glow....

About my neck.... a Karmic bag,
Filled with failure cobblestones....
Hate, Greed, and Indifference,
For all these... I'd have to atone.....

But the heaviest was the stone,
That mapped out my Lifetime's goal....
To Love unconditionally,
Each new, encountered Soul.....

You have not failed, spoke the Guides...
Hold to the bitter knowledge gleaned....
As each Incarnation you seek,
More of the Truth you will see....

Wrapped into transitional womb,
I drift quietly into Life......
Breathing in the past memories,
Emerging swiftly from the Light......

Copyright 2003/2012
Margaret LaVonne Hall
All rights reserved