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Under The Dogwood Tree: A Collection Of Poetry
Under The Dogwood Tree: A Collection Of Poetry
Under The Dogwood Tree: A Collection Of Poetry
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Under The Dogwood Tree: A Collection Of Poetry

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This collection of poetry ranges from celebrations of beginnings to the agony of loss and the certainty of death and its aftermath. There are poems reveling in the joys of nature and some that contemplate the troubles of life. Travel back in time as you read about the injustices experienced by slaves and the persecution of witches in Salem. The beauty of nature and the love of God are extolled as you join the author in a hurricane or sit under a dogwood tree. A tribute is offered to law enforcement officers and military women. All this and more as we celebrate life, death, and the hereafter. Emotions range from desperation and heartache to joy and awe. Some may make you laugh, and some may make you cry. Some readers will do both as they ride this roller coaster of poetry. So hop on, hold on to your seats, and enjoy.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 7, 2024
ISBN9798892436717
Under The Dogwood Tree: A Collection Of Poetry

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    Book preview

    Under The Dogwood Tree - Irene M. Wilcox

    cover.jpg

    Under The Dogwood Tree

    A Collection Of Poetry

    Irene M. Wilcox

    ISBN 979-8-89243-670-0 (paperback)

    ISBN 979-8-89243-671-7 (digital)

    Copyright © 2024 by Irene M. Wilcox

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

    Christian Faith Publishing

    832 Park Avenue

    Meadville, PA 16335

    www.christianfaithpublishing.com

    Printed in the United States of America

    Table of Contents

    God's Handiwork

    Spring in North Carolina

    Heat

    Hurricane

    Under the Dogwood Tree

    The Cricket

    Flight of the Pelican

    The Waltz

    Three Sisters

    Become a Star

    Our Days Are Numbered

    The Year

    Dying

    Old Cemeteries

    Comfort

    Miscarriage

    My Little One

    We Do Not Know

    Unmerited

    Children

    Baby

    Help

    My Gift

    My Best Friend

    My Little Girl

    First Grandchild

    The Lost Ones

    My First Granddaughter

    Nelson

    The Last Grandchild

    My Grandchildren

    People

    Officers in Blue

    Patriots

    A Pilgrimage

    Bits and Pieces

    Blond in Disguise

    My Love

    My Special Friend

    Remarkable People

    Trouble in Salem, 1692

    Some Things to Think About

    Grandma Nurse

    Think

    Murder

    Walk with God

    The Winner

    Sin

    My Sin

    Kiss

    Greatest Sin

    Trials

    Praise God from Who All Blessings Flow

    The Good King

    Condemned

    Wonder of Wonders

    A Thousand Tongues

    Words

    Eternity

    Agony

    A Drop of Water

    The Place

    Heaven

    Purity

    Prayer

    Songs

    God Will Provide

    Hands

    I Can Praise Him

    Jesus Didn't Complain

    Sweet Grace

    The King

    Today

    Useless Vessel

    He Chose to Remain

    Glorious Day

    That Day

    Sweet Story

    The Tree in the Water

    Mary and the Alabaster Box

    The Fig Tree

    About the Author

    God's Handiwork

    And God saw every thing that he made, and, behold, it was very good.

    —Genesis 1:31 (KJV)

    Spring in North Carolina

    Cold winters,

    wind and rain,

    long nights, short days

    soon forgotten

    in the beauty of spring.

    Verdant leaves appearing on bare limbs

    dressing the woods with beauty,

    Dogwood white

    hovering in the midst,

    Azalea pinks, whites, and lilacs

    on bushes below,

    Green grass replacing brown,

    Wisteria purple

    perfuming the air,

    freshly mowed lawns adding to the fragrance.

    Beauty imprinted on the mind

    to be slowly forgotten

    in summer's humidity.

    Heat

    Heat emanating from the street.

    Vapors visibly rising, blurring vision.

    Sweat streaming from pores,

    running into the eyes,

    down the face,

    along the back,

    causing discomfort and itch

    in unmentionable places.

    A slight breeze brings momentary relief

    only to disappear as quickly as it came.

    Just another hot, humid summer.

    Hurricane

    Stalwart standing timber

    swaying side to side

    keeping time with the strain

    of the wailing wind.

    Towering pine trees

    moaning, creaking, cracking

    snapping in two,

    tops crashing to terra firma.

    Trees pulled up as if by powerful unseen hands,

    their roots swinging in the atmosphere,

    coming to repose against neighbors

    whose support they supplicate

    or, in their exhaustion, collapsing to earth

    with a loud thud.

    Leaves, twigs, branches

    dancing in the tempest

    or soaring through the sky

    striking magnolias, dogwoods, azaleas,

    becoming implanted in the grass.

    Ordinarily vertical precipitation

    becoming nearly horizontal,

    soaking already saturated soil

    and rivaling rising waters.

    Waves thunderously crashing

    against disappearing shores,

    ravenously consuming all in sight.

    I stand in the midst of it all

    enraptured by this awesome power of God,

    Master of the universe.

    Under the Dogwood Tree

    Sitting under a Dogwood tree,

    enjoying peace and serenity.

    A blade of grass waves gently in the breeze

    its shadow mimicking a carpet of old pine straw and dead oak leaves.

    Daddy longlegs on the same matting,

    gingerly stepping over pinecones and twigs crisscrossing.

    Still and silent in the shade, till another breeze

    awaken the tiny sweetgum saplings' tender leaves.

    Thousands of years, it's been the same.

    How much longer will it remain?

    The Cricket

    Oh, little cricket, what do you see?

    Somehow, you landed on my black jeans.

    Do you think me a tree with a large blue leaf,

    as you look up at my light blue tee?

    And when I move,

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