Birthday Sonnet, the Second

In the flower of days I turn my gaze

On those fabled glories of yesteryear

Lost to me in this vale of tears and haze.

How could I hope to purchase one so dear?

And now you see me here all dressed in white

I have not hope in hell but thee, I see.

To you I lift up mine eyes full bright

And tell the world the truth that set me free.

Oh please dear one, make me thy star of one

And purge the night of all grim hopelessness.

'Tis all to me that when the battle's done

You know I stood, tireless, for blessedness.

Know I strike my standard plea toward thee:

Wilt thou this, my verse, accept it freely?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: "Dawn," Barbara Butler McCoy, 2009]

Thirsty

Following, following 'cross the wasteland

A steward who steadies with wit and staff,

Pilgrims set lonely course, buried in sand,

Hoping their no-name horse will find true path.

Marking the course with blood so red, they ford

Streams running wild, oh running wild with greed.

Such hopeful souls the dreaming pulls forward

To loving words, a face serene indeed.

Thirsty they are and, silent, they behold

St. Nick in this desert guarding a stream;

Peace and victory pouring from source untold.

Truth visible only for those who dream.

Her voice soothes the bile riled by false faces;

Stream fouled by fairness still bears Her traces.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Image - composite of the author's photos; slogan found painted on

the wall of an outbuilding of the Spruill Gallery, Dunwoody, GA, 2009;

Our Lady of Guadalupe, paint on tile, shrine on grounds of St. Jude

the Apostle Catholic Church, Atlanta, GA, 2009; wall, 2008; thanks to

Sean for his Photoshop tutelage!]]

I, Georgia

Here in the wild place
The rocky place
Here on this canvas
I am true to myself

The canvas speaks of charms
The brush laid on
With tints in sweeps
All flourishes

And the tempest
Inside my heart of cold
Black stone
Bursts forth in waves
Of petals and pedernals

None so wonderful as these
Have eased my heart 'ere now
To be as one
With the canvas and stone
The leaves and the trees
In this wild, dry land
Is all I need to be

Free of restraints and
Gentle complaints
I soar with the mind
Of a child

My brush brings me home
To wander
In the broom

There I may find it
The next
Piece

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: "Equine Pelvis with Sky," after Georgia
O'Keeffe's "Pelvis with the Distance"; sculpture
of a horse out of driftwood outside the Hunter
Museum, Chattanooga, TN; July 2009]

Blues

Flying with the blues
Anytime and where I choose
Where'd I leave my shoes?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: Hyacinth Macaws at the Tennessee Aquarium,
Chattanooga, TN; July 2009]

[This poem is a response to the four, challenge #12]

Dogwood

I could tell you of
the dogwood trembling above
as it feels spring's love

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: a dogwood blossom on the
tree in my courtyard; April, 2009]

Roundabout

She believes
believes in love.
What else can she do?
She takes the roundabout.
For so long she has
endured the runaround.

Round and round,
again,
in and out and about,
again,
since she stepped from her shell
hoping to end her exile.
Celestial body riding
the tracks of her tears.

A pilgrim to these shores
where uncertainty leaves us
reeling.
She knows and we will learn
our broken hearts,
hearts with room for ladders
to Beauty's divine mystery.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: a scooter I spotted
near the Woodruff Arts
Center; Atlanta, GA; April 2009]

Sisters' Windows (a response to The Four, Challenge No. 11)

Some sisters escape -
escape what blinds,
obscures the view,
escape the pain.

Sisters open their
shutters, see light,
focus their eyes
and expose life.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[This poem was also submitted as
a response to Challenge No. 11 from
The Four and suggested by Kirsten Crilly:
"Then swing your window open, the one
with fresh air and good eastern light
and watch for wings, edges, new
beginnings." Monique Duvall]

[Photo: Window above doorway,
Candler Building; Atlanta, GA;
March 2009]