Category Archives: Poetry

A poem in Facebook brings me joy

A borzoi breeder I know posted a lovely, old poem in Facebook this week thereby sharing it with her friends. It has a simple, beautiful and wise message.  I am posting it here so I always have it to remind me of its values and to share with my readers.

I had no thought of violets of late,

The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet

In wistful April days, when lovers mate

And wander through the fields in raptures sweet.

The thought of violets meant florists’ shops,

And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;

And garish lights, and mincing little fops

And cabarets and songs, and deadening wine.

So far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed,

I had forgot wide fields, and clear brown streams;

The perfect loveliness that God has made,—

Wild violets shy and Heaven-mounting dreams.

And now—unwittingly, you’ve made me dream

Of violets, and my soul’s forgotten gleam.

Alice Dunbar



The Special Man at Blyss

I, for some reason known only to God, am blessed to have a wonderful companion in my life who helps me with everything, and without whom nothing I do would be possible.  He has been that way since I met him two years ago.  He has always been totally committed to my borzoi, and is again committed to Tresor.  I have my own demons and am not an easy person to be with, and he has had to accept much from me.  But he is still here.  One day he said to me, after a really rough time of it in our relationship, which I swear was all his fault of course, “I will never abandon you.”  And I believe him.  He was speaking the truth.  My life becomes more complicated with each passing day, and he takes it in stride and rolls up his shirt sleeves as if to say, “Well, what do I have to do next?”   First it was breast cancer because my son and my sister washed their hands of me.  Now it is Tresor.  If Tresor ever overcomes his adjustment problems, you can believe it will be in large part because of this  good man.

A Blyss Poem, poetry again at Blyss

It’s cold outside …. the snow is deep but my heart is warm and at peace.

And though many months may stand between me and the summer’s

Blessed shore my faith sustains me to its distant destination.


My errors behind my humanity haunt me. Yet

‘Though they may pave the ever new miles with contrary directional signs

No one knows exactly where I go. So I step aside and fool them by and by.


Where love is given in full measure solitary though I may be today and

Solitary though I may be forever, Silent, cold, effervescent, quivering with life

An empty hand is always visible, open for what will be my tomorrow.


I have learned sadly that life is not all about me.  My concerns pale next to those of others whom I know even casually.  It is wrong for me to care so much about myself.  This is a lesson I am coming to learn late in life.   I can only try to think less about myself, to reach out more, to give more, to be more to others, even if they do not ask.    I see the flaws of others around me but instead of being repulsed I wonder why, or how they came to be that way and I feel only compassion.   I know they  must suffer, and perhaps a great deal more than me.