Poems: Samples of the work of Luella Federonik

Secrets

The trees are wearing
Their finest dress
Full Skirt, puff sleeves,
Gloriously coiffured,
Beauty overtakes winter’s scene.

Sure wish they would disrobe!
I cannot see
What the neighbours are doing!

Another Holiday Blues

Talked to my plants
Gave them a drink
Washed their leaves
Faced them to the sun
Told them how much I love them
Petted each one when I can
I heard as I turned my back
“Are you nuts, lady?
Get yourself a man!”


The End


Can’t think of anything
To rhyme
This time.
How sad.
Was sure there was
An uneding supply
Of whimsy,
Some good, some bad.
Oh well, it may rise
Again.
So until then,
The End.
— L.G.D.

Poem: In Flanders Fields

n515275203_1605817_6395 In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 – 1918)