by Alicia Beckwith

Carpet of Gold

The wind shimmers the leaves on the trees

slowly, then gives a gentle, caressing breeze.

The leaves dance back and forth

With tickling wind out of the north.

Colors shine bright in noon day light.

As they dance, they put on a show

with branches sweep high and low.

Yellow, orange, red, rust, crimson bright

Twirling in the warm soft afternoon light.

They cling tightly, hanging on with all their might

from early morning light on into darkest of night.

The winds turn chillier, the rain gets colder

And soon, the leaves, they grow bolder

as one by one they lose their grip

and down to the ground they slip.

Daily grows a carpet of orange and gold

so beautiful description cannot be told.

Creeping into Winter

The sun warms the earth each day

as we wake up to be our way.

The leaves wriggle as breezes blow

boughs sweeping, bending low.

Tree roots growing ever so deep

as along forest floors they creep.

The shade it surely gave to all

gradually disappears into fall.

Colors splendid and rich go forth

with mighty cold winds of north.

Bare arms greet rain and snow

as winter takes on its eerie glow.

What’s a Bu-En??

When I hear people say this,

it makes me want to ask:

“Did you say  bu en?

Are you asking what you can put your but in?”

Today’s younger population has come up with

a new way to pronounce many words.

I don’t understand how this is accepted in

the work place, i.e. television, hospitals, radio, etc.

I’ll give you a few examples:

I need to bu –en my coat.

In the town of Perrngton.

In the town of Bri –en.

I could go on and on, but

this gives the reader a good sample.

These people are NEVER corrected.

Does this mean that the LAZY TONGUE is accepted?

How can this be?

When I was young, we were told to

listen to the radio,

Learn from the announcers on television.

They can teach us how to speak



Proper grammar is somewhat nonexistent!

Subject verb agreement has been slowly disappearing

and the worst thing is……..

those who are listening don’t seem to even know it’s incorrect.

Powers that be don’t send these folks to ENGLISH 101.

BUT, colleges aren’t correcting these errors now either

I’ll give you some more examples:

Her and I went to the store

Use guys are gonna play ball

It’s I’s and she’s car

Again, this is just a small sample.

It’s a sad society that allows these errors

without trying to educate and correct.

Does this mean that we JUST DON’T CARE?

I sincerely hope not.

Sycamore Row

She stands naked in winter,

tall and full come summer.

Skin of alabaster white for all to see,

branches holding her dress in summer breeze.

The lane is far as I walk along

gazing at fields of lush green.

Now I can see the large barn

housing livestock from the storms.

I look up and see the sky peek through

those lacy green dancing leaves.

The sycamore trunks all alike

long giraffe necks peering out.

They stand askew greeting everyone

who grace their path anew

and all those friends of old

saying, “Welcome to Sycamore Row.”

Recessed Corners of the Mind

Another friend is leaving me ever so slowly

like petals picked off by the wind.

The light in the eyes grows dim

as the mind twists away memories.

They fade into greyness like the night

no longer do we meet out for fun

or to talk of things so deep

that the heart harbors away

as if to protect our vulnerability.

It’s sad to think back on times

Tthat are so boldy different now…..

toknow that they are gone forever

into the twisted fibers of the mind.

Nazareth’s Cinderella Rabbit

(At Nazareth College)

I saw a metal rabbit beyond the reading room.

Lights glistened off the sculpture including that plume!

Ears curled ‘bout her head, broach amidst her curls.

And her whiskers were adorned with pearls.

Matching her sash and gorgeous earrings

Pearls separate her gown and all her other things.

That gown billows out to hide her thumper feet.

Her paws were wrapped about her clutch bag so sweet.

Dressed by Fairy God-mother, ready for a spectacular ball,

All coiffed, polished, bedecked with earrings of pearl, gown and all


Looking Back

Watching the boughs of leaves on the trees

Swaying in the hot summer breeze,

heat waves reverse trickle from the driveway

on a ninety five degree sizzling summer day

A lazy, hazy gentle life, just rockin’ away

thinkin’ of days long gone –  back when days

of young love, sexy soft and ever so sweet

that in my old years I keep hidden in retreat

It’s nice to look back on days gone, of old

of secrets, of torrid nights left untold.

Now I’m in the twilight of those ‘golden’ years

that bring joys, memories, laughter and tears.

I don’t have lots of regrets, ‘tis sure

when I look back on my ears with you.

Just love and plenty of it to keep me

on this final end of my journey.

In Darkest of Night

Quiet creeps over the town as all are sleeping.

Toys are stowed away for safekeeping.

Stars sparkle lending complimentary light

to the moon taking its regular flight.

Outside, night owls on the wing

turn to make their hunting upswing.

Tiny creatures take their chances

as predators start their ritual dances.

Fluttering of wings heard by ears so small

waiting for the raptor’s call

run and hide shivering with fright

in the darkest of night.


“Hi, How are You?” You Ask —–

“Hi!, How are you”, you ask.

But you don’t wait for an answer

as you rush through your agenda

pat me on the back then rush away.

“How are you?”

You really want to know?

I doubt it – it’s just a button you push

when you don’t know what else to say.

Sales clerks, car salesmen and, well everyone ask this question.

Most without a hesitation of politeness.

Most everyone continues to talk right after asking.

Why do we do this?

Why are we so artificial, not really caring

to talk to the other person for just a real minute?

Why don’t we care anymore?

Don’t we have feelings anymore?

Can’t we stop to really talk?

Really listen, and then speak –

Let them know we’re interested,

so the they know we care?

What has happened to our  society

where we give this perfunctory greeting

then rush on not letting the other person reply?

It just doesn’t mean a thing ———————————-anymore.

Alicia Beckwith is a local poet and has been writing poetry for four decades.  Her poems have been published in book collections and magazines.