Lucretia sits on the railroad track,
wearing high-heel boots and dress of black.
As the whistle blows, she turns her back.
It's one way out of a life on crack.

She's way too young for her life to end.
Her course is set on a downward trend.
With no one left she can call a friend,
her spirit's shattered and it won't mend.

Home was no place she wanted to stay.
She sealed her fate when she left that day;
only fifteen and a runaway,
victim of men who stalked her like prey.

With a sexy body and pretty face,
a big city slum's a scary place,
where liquor and drugs are commonplace,
and innocent girls can fall from grace.

Offered by a pimp a place to stay,
at a pretty penny price to pay,
her soul seared like a withered bouquet,
leaving her dreams in dire disarray.

So now she sits on a railroad track,
wearing fish-net hose and dress of black.
She has a bag, but she won't unpack.
When she leaves this time, she'll not be back.

Author Notes

Picture from my writing group 9-9-9-9 rhyme scheme AAAA, BBBB, etc.

Old barns spur my imagination.
I'm not sure why this fascination,
but I'm compelled to take a photo
to add to my portfolio.

Perhaps something in my distant past
produced an imprint sure to last.
I see the charm in rustic things
and my artistic soul takes wings.

I am still a country girl at heart;
no longer there, yet it's still part
of what made me into whom I'd be.
Barns are part of my history.

Chapter 6
Grief

By BethShelby

Enshrined within this tortured brain of mine,
unable to release a single tear,
emotions lie in catatonic state,
like you, at rest upon your burial bier.

My friends all asked me why I didn't grieve.
Some wondered if I was too cold to care.
I couldn't say; I didn't know myself.
Some feelings are too intimate to share.

I was the only fruit your womb would know.
On me, you lavished tenderness and care.
Smothered in your pools of adoration,
I struggled free to breathe a fresher air.

Yet, no matter where my path would take me,
your devotion encased me like a glove.
There never was a time I felt alone.
There never was a day untouched by love.

Words can do no justice to my feelings,
and tears can never fill the vacant place.
Your passing is a wound within my heart
which only time may heal but not erase.

 

Chapter 7
The Final Page

By BethShelby

Another chapter closed today, my friend.
It breaks my heart to read the final line.
I know that one day all good things must end,
and only tears and thoughts are really mine.

last goodbyes are like the death of reason.
Inside me lies a cold and empty room.
I sense the sudden shock of winter season,
and feel the icy wind's relentless gloom.

My friend, we've known the sun, and life was sweet;
together we'd go forth to greet the day.
But now, the page is turned, the tale's complete;
the time has come to put the book away.

Although it hurts to read the final part,
the lines are etched in gold inside my heart.

 

Author Notes

This is a sonnet. It is fourteen lines with ten syllables per line. The rhyme scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF GG Thanks to MoonWillow for the lovely Art.

Chapter 8
The Outlet

By BethShelby

I keep my feelings in control;
safely snuggled in my soul.
I leave my left brain on patrol.
Staying private is my goal.
 
What I don’t verbalize, I write
often late into the night.
It may be insult or insight--
on the page, it receives light.
 
For me, my grief’s a private thing.
I, alone, should feel its sting.
But in a poem, a dirge I’ll sing--
like a bird, my tears take wing.
 
And even when I’m feeling rage,
I’m not likely to engage.
So unlike Shakespeare on his stage,
I’ll emote on printed page.
 
My writing frees me to impart
feelings fest'ring in my heart.
More freely flowing once I start,
it’s my outlet, and my art.

Chapter 9
The Ballad of John Howland

By BethShelby

There was a group of Godly souls
who left their homes behind.
“No country tells us how to pray.
Another land we’ll find.”

These pilgrims were called Separatist.
“We won’t obey the king!”
Into the Netherlands, they fled.
From there, their praise to sing.

But Holland didn’t satisfy
their need for farming land.
America was very new.
They felt led by God’s hand.

Two ships would sail across the sea
to this new untouched shore.
The Speedwell failed the safety test.
One ship would make it o’er.

One hundred two would crowd aboard
this ship to Plymouth Rock.
The Mayflower rode the stormy sea,
while God watched o’er his flock.

John Howland was washed overboard,
when waves assailed the ship.
A topsail trailing saved his life.
He held on with firm grip.

Two months they’d fought the stormy seas,
when they debarked at last.
November winds were bitter cold;
for some, the die was cast.

By summer, less half remained.
The Tilley family died.
The Carvers took their daughter in.
John got to know his bride.

John served the Carvers as a clerk
The second year, they passed.
A freeman, Howland then became.
He owned some land at last.

Howland and Tilley soon were wed
With  'Lizabeth his bride.
Ten offspring to this union came.
The family tree grew wide.

The estimate’s ten million souls,
now in this nation thrive,
Because John didn’t die at sea,
that’s why I am alive.

You too may be one of that group
who’s in his family tree.
God made a nation out of him--
a nation that’s still free.
 

******** 

King James VI of Scotland decreed the Church of England was where everyone would worship. Many believed that government has no place in deciding one's faith.  Defying the king became dangerous for the Separatists. They fled to the Netherlands. After about ten years, it appeared even Holland was becoming less tolerant. John Carver got a group together to travel to the New World.  John Howland, a cousin, went along as one of several indentured servants and served him as his clerk. The original ship, the Speedwell 

that brought the Pilgrims from Holland, was a sister ship to the Mayflower, but it was unable to make the journey because it was taking on water. Everyone had to crowd into the Mayflower's already cramped quarters.  Half of the 102 passengers and crew on the Mayflower didn't survive the first year of harsh winter in New England.

If one of the many people from whom you inherited DNA had not lived, would you still exist as the same person you are today?  Just a thought.

Author Notes

Doing ancestry chart, I discovered that one of my ancestors was on the Mayflower. Howland is estimated to be the forefather of ten million who live in the US today. He was a Pilgrim and indentured servant to John Carver. After Carver and his wife died, John inherited his land and became the ward of Elizabeth Tilley whom the Carvers had taken in after her parents died. He and Elizabeth were married and had 10 children.

Chapter 10
Journey In Time

By BethShelby

Today, I took a holiday,
and I'm so glad I did.
I took a little trip in time
to when I was a kid.

It was exciting to go back
and drift down Mem’ry Lane--
to take another look at life--
with all its joys and pain.

I drifted back through recent years--
and even further still--
past toddlers taking wobbly steps--
across a grassy hill.

Past temporary growing pains
of early married years--
and awkward, early teenage days--
with fantasies and fears.

I was a little girl again
with freckles on my nose--
with pigtails and a pinafore--
and mud between my toes.

I smelled hot chocolate heating
on Grandma's old iron stove.
I picked the wild plums still growing
on trees out in the grove.

I placed my hand in my grandpa's,
as he limped out to his mill.
He taught me how to call the birds--
bobwhites and whippoorwill.

Upon their old tin roof, I heard
the sound of gentle rain,
and I galloped, playing horsey
on Grandpa's walking cane.

It felt so good to linger on
Grandma’s old porch swing--
and pass away the hours there
hearing the crickets sing.

The birds were also singing songs--
robins, and larks, I heard,
Their repertoire was mimicked by
 a passing mockingbird.

I saw my grandma churning milk
in a pottery crock.
In steady rhythm, she kept time
with ticking mantle clock.

I smelled a coat of fresh-laid wax
upon the hardwood floor--
and from the fireplace I could hear
the sizzling pine-wood roar.

I looked around and found myself
 a cozy little nook--
a spot where I could hide away
to read a fav’rite book.

I thought I’d take a little nap,
 snug in a feather bed.
Pulling up grandma's hand-made quilt,
I covered up my head.

Beside the rug, my fingers felt
a kitten's soft white fur.
I stroked him gently, and I heard
his motor start to purr.

I caught some tadpoles in the pond--
dipped with a homemade net.
I frolicked on the fresh-mowed lawn,
but I’m not finished yet.

In a storm-shelter dark and damp,
I heard the thunder roar--
smelled whiffs from a korosene lamp,
just like in days of yore.

Walking barefoot on fresh plowed ground,
I dropped a seed or two,
and inhaled scents of earth, so brown,
kissed by the morning dew.

Down pathways in a pasture, green--
toes dangling in a creek,
the air I breathed was fresh and clean--
breeze tickling my cheek.

I watched the moon and stars come out
into a velvet night,
while frogs and crickets hopped about,
with not a soul in sight.
 
I climbed the old pine tree-once more.
 and gazed on green above.
I found the peace I'd known before,
with God, and felt His love.

These things I did, and even more.
My holiday is through,
but as my journey ends today,
these things I know are true.

I’ve learned to  leave all cares behind--
there is no use to fret.
Worry is just a state of mind.
We can’t control a threat.

Anxiety is not worthwhile.
It only makes us sick.
It's really not that hard to smile.
Endurance is the trick.

Stick to the things we can control. 
Let go of all the rest--
and take a journey back in time--
to when you felt your best.

Author Notes

All the things mentioned here are favorite memories from my childhood.

Chapter 11
Ode to a Hickory Stump

By BethShelby

You stood for years, a home to life,
and birds and squirrels were welcome there.
In autumn your bright yellow hues
proclaimed God's glory everywhere.
 
When you were clothed in gown of green,
you shared relief from summer sun.
At harvest time, you freely gave
nuts to sustain till winter's done.

For many years you stood steadfast,
and to earth's breast,your strong roots clung.
Storm winds took aim, and life's sap ceased,
but e'en in death, new life has sprung.

Your roots still hug the earth's sweet crust
long after sap has ceased to flow.
Your trunk once sturdy, strong, and straight
was severed by wind's mighty blow.

But now the lichens call you home
and decorate what's left of you.
Your base becomes a perch of sorts
to give an owl a garden view.

A lesson from your stump, you'd share;
one's usefulness should never die.
As long as there is something left,
you serve and never question why.
 

Author Notes

The stump in the picture stands in my garden. A storm caused the tree to fall three years ago.

Chapter 12
Fear For the Country's Future

By BethShelby

I’m filled with feelings of frustration.
Cell calls show scammers on the phone.
Slick social sites seek to solicit,
through mind games, those who might be prone.

The world,which once was, weeps for wisdom.
What entity has drained mens' brains?
There once was time our senses steered us
to seek for proof, which truth retains.
 
No one believed unfounded fables,
spewed by unsavory lying lips.
Conspiracies were fancy fiction,
designed like gamblers' betting tips.
 
Whose henchman hijacked our common sense,
pushed poison causing mind decay;
conceived some chips for our computers,
created to take will away?
 
Division drives our friends far from us.
Divided nations always fall.
We need to reach for restoration,
before the final curtain call.

Hypnosis sometimes can be broken.
Effects of mind-drugs dissipate.
My fear is folks deny the future,
and sleep until it is too late.
 
 
 

Chapter 13
The Final Farewell

By BethShelby

Susan cries for the loved one she's lost,
but the tears can't erase the pain.
She longs to be in his arms once more
and feel his caresses again.

Her Buddy's gone, and he can't come back.
The war's claimed another brave life.
"Don't fear, sweetheart. I will return." was
the promise he made to his wife.

He kept the promise he made that day,
but how can he let Susan know?
He longs to comfort his grieving wife
and to stop the tears from their flow.

He needs her to know she must go on.
Her heartache must come to an end.
Death can't destroy the love that they shared
but broken hearts someday will mend.

He can't be a part of the present
and she must not live in the past.
The final farewell isn't easy
but nothing on earth's meant to last.
-o-

Author Notes

9-8-9-8 count abcb rhyme scheme

Chapter 14
Pathways

By BethShelby

If I had known which route my life would take
when I was young and in my parents’ home,
I wonder if a difference it would make,
or would I still have had the urge to roam?
Would I have felt I wanted to be free
to flee the town and strike out on my own--
to figure out what fate might hold for me
and find a wider world than I had known?
But when I met the man I came to love,
a different path appeared before my feet.
It seemed I’d found an answer from above.
My drummer sounded out a different beat.
     No longer was I yearning to be freed.
     I’d found the soulmate who would fill that need.


 

Chapter 15
The End of the Line

By BethShelby

Papa Farnsworth had five daughters,
and he brought them up in style.
He insisted they act proper,
though they never seemed to smile.

They learned poise and elocution,
and to wear the proper clothes.
They served tea to lady callers,
but they had no time for beaus.

Papa thought no swain was worthy,
so his daughters never wed.
No young heirs when he departed,
thus his Farnsworth line went dead.

Then in time, the maids grew bitter
left unplucked upon the vine.
Without Papa there to steer them,
all their polish ceased to shine.

Parents shouldn't pick the pathway.
It is not their place to choose.
If they push their will too strongly,
everyone involved may lose.

Chapter 16
A Tortured Life

By BethShelby

Emotion was your guiding star,
but peers found you a bit bizarre.
Critics refused to be entranced.
Your genius was too far advanced.
But nothing stopped you in your quest.
You craved to be the very best.

Inside your brain colors would swirl
in grand profusion through your world,
onto the canvas of your life,
though no one understood your strife.
Art critics of your time weren't kind,
but Vincent, they would be, in time.

One day they'd worship at your feet,
but you would not be there to greet
those who'd proclaim, "You were the best,
and by some super-nova blest."
Your life would end in poverty.
You chose to end it willingly.

But know, my friend, 'twas not in vain
you suffered through such awful pain.
Impressions which you made on art
came from the beauty in your heart,
and years from now, you'll still be known
for unique style that was your own.

 

Chapter 17
Enduring Love

By BethShelby

 

Love defies a definition;
an endearing heart condition.
How can we know it will endure?
Have we been charmed by Cupid’s lure?
 
When chemistry makes hearts react
with ample ardor to attract,
then there's a melding of two minds
into a potent tie that binds.

But often links that lead to love
aren't matches made in realms above,
and slowly couples drift apart
when once, each held the other's heart.

If those laws that rule attraction
cause instead, reverse reaction,
with dismay, we may discover
one might be a fickle lover.

Love exacts effort to maintain.
Unnourished feelings start to wane.
Acknowledging each other's needs
makes for a marriage that succeeds.

If each one puts the other first
and neither needs to be coerced,
when everything is said and done,
then two will have become as one.
 
No greater gift can this world grant
than love continues to enchant.
Against the odds, we firmly stand,
leaping life's hurdles, hand in hand.

 

Chapter 18
Summer Skies

By BethShelby

Clouds in summer skies
Fire my imagination
I’m a child again
Observing nature’s art work
Splashed across a sea of blue

 

Chapter 19
Summer Memories Etched In Time

By BethShelby

I pinned my hopes on summer time,
in school, when still the kid.
I thought of things I hoped to do;
then most of them, I did.

From mid-June until September,
I didn't go to school.
The perfect time for lying out,
I'd sun beside the pool.

I'd ride my bike down rocky hills
with cousins, or my friend.
I'd pick ripe melons from the vine
or berries `round the bend.

The summer foods delighted me; 
things cooked on outdoor grills. 
We'd picnic under the pine trees, 
not worrying over spills.

In the evening close to sunset,
with fireflies flying`bout,
the moon lit up the nighttime sky,
with crickets crying out.

The soft night breeze enveloped me
with scent of sweet perfume;
honeysuckle, myrtle bushes,
with roses still in bloom.

I wish once more to feel the thrill
of summer in the sun,
but now, I feel mosquito bites;
this life's not so much fun.

My childhood time is long since spent.
The wonder world is gone.
The summer's lost its mystic touch,
but memories linger on.

Chapter 20
The Barn by the Side of the Road

By BethShelby

Here is s a barn by the side of the road.
Behind it, a silo looms high.
It’s no longer home for horses or cows.
No farmhouse is standing nearby.
It's now a storehouse for many old things,
and I am left wondering why.
 
This barn’s been standing for many long years.
The farmers have all moved away.
The loft that stands open no longer holds
the sweet-smelling, fresh-gathered hay.
The silo which once held the grain for the stock,
is covered with vines and decay.
 
It’s purpose has changed as years rolled on by,
but it seems it still has a use.
The structure is strong, though faded and gray
and maybe, some hinges are loose.
But somebody chose to let it remain,
in spite of the early abuse.
 
I too have grown older, as years moved on.
There are things I no longer do.
Raising a family is all in the past.
I’m amazed at how the time flew.
Still, I’m not ready to give up on life.
I’m willing to try something new.
 

One of thousands of stories, poems and books available online at FanStory.com You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author!

© Copyright 2015 BethShelby All rights reserved. BethShelby has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement