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PUBLISHED POEMS

A BIT OF OUR HERITAGE

By; H, Dann Wallis


See that old house?
In the woods, over there!
It’s abandoned, decaying  and
long without care.

The windows are broken and
the rain now blows through.
Some of the siding is missing,
no one alive remembers when the paint
was new.

The porch floor sags,
a few of the steps are gone.
The yard well has fallen in.
The folks must have taken the pump along.

Over there on that rise,
that’s where the barn would stand.
It would have bulged from the hay,
the grain, and the bounty from this land.

There is a weathered cross under the tree;
“Baby Girl, 3 days old, 1865”
How tragic to leave her behind.
How many folks left this place alive?

Was it the Great War
that tore the family from this land?
Over there behind that stone wall,
is that where some army made its stand?

Before that there were many good times,
in my heart this I know.
Grand meals with the family all around,
later singing together with the hearth all
aglow.

I can’t feel sad for this family now gone.
They lived each day for all it might hold.
Cleared the land, had kids, praised their
God,
never knowing they were so bold!

It’s quiet and peaceful here now,
but their spirit lives still.
They became the strength of this Nation;
its’ heart, its’ soul, its’ will.

What we are today
We owe to the people like this.
Next time you pass here, pause…
or it’s a bit of our heritage you’ll miss.

Published by the American Poetry Anthology,
1985
1985 winner of the Golden Poet Award, by
The World of Poetry.

SOME OF THE THINGS I LOVE

By: H. Dann Wallis


I love the smell of fresh cut hay,
Being in the woods on a crisp fall day,
And the sound that children make at their
play.

I love putting that look of pride on my Dad's
face,
Feeling warm and wanted in your embrace,
And going back home to my birthplace.

I love the memories of my Grandpa and me,
All the years that I spent at sea,
And the swing we shared on the big oak
tree.

I love finishing that job that can't be done,
My daughter tying the game with a one and
one,
And new friendships just begun.

I love my Mom's home baked rhubarb pies,
My love reflected in my children's eyes,
And never having to say good-byes.

I love being alone with my thoughts in a
quiet room,
The lingering echo of your perfume,
And spring with the dogwoods in full bloom.

I love hot, black coffee in a navy cup,
The morning sky just before the sun comes
up,
And my warm, wooly Christmas pup.

I love my private recollections of Cathy Sue,
Billowing white clouds in a field of blue,
And my shipmates who are forever true,

And most of all….I love you!




Published by the American Poetry Anthology,
1985
1985 Winner of the Golden Poet Award,  by
The World of Poetry