What Doesn’t Come First
Sailboats spot the water,
History forms the edges,
A chapel and a church
The sight is unforgettable,
But that’s not what comes first.
When the river froze with ice,
The nuns they said their prayers
That once this storm is over
Our dear chapel will still be there.
And so the chapel stayed,
Thanks to the nuns and their prayers.
And a long while later,
The chapel still stands there.
The Tuscorora Indians who lived there long ago,
Gave us more rich history to appreciate and to know.
The house of seven basements is where they hid the slaves,
Plain Street has plain houses,
With Gibbs green shutters for shade.
The river is a piece of art
A diamond in a cave
A quilt explaining history, in each in every way.
Sailboats spot the water,
History forms the edges,
A chapel and a church.
The sight is unforgettable, But that’s not what comes first.
(My poem about the Niagara River where it flows between Lewiston and Youngstown, NY)
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The Life of a Fisher’s Daughter
“No dear daughter don’t you fretYou don’t need fishing nets.
That is daddy's work my dear,
always his far and near.”
“Mama, Mama must you obsess
Why don’t we go play some chess?”
She smiled and sighed
“It’s such a nice day why don’t we go play outside!”
I picked up the board she got the pieces
and then invited over all her nieces.
“Why are they here?” I snapped
“I am going to take a nap!’
I stormed in the house kicked of my shoes
And then I furiously turned on the news
Then I decided, I shouldn’t stay here
I can not shed another tear.
And with that I left to find my daddy
But first I’ll get my dog named Laddie
And so I packed my big red bag
And said goodbye to the games of tag.
I waved to my house and cousins and ma
Now I am of to see my pa
Hip Hip Horay I stood on my toes
Now just what way should I go?
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Tornado
The wind screamed at me.
The trees fell down on the ground,
The sirens screamed out. 