Indian Heritage
by Helen George

Out on the plains my horse and I roam,
Where the teepee once was considered a home,
Where the great herds of buffalo were given chase,
Where the Cheyenne were once a mighty race.

We stop for a moment while I reminisce,
About tales that were told of vistas such as this,
About a lifetime before the white man came,
About honor and pride, a life without shame.

But the white man did come to our land,
Bringing havoc, letting things get out of hand,
Bringing greed, taking over, running us out,
Bringing damnation as they forged their route.

I bring out my flute and begin to play,
A sad, mournful tune that suits this sad day,
A melancholy salute to the spirits that bide,
A fitting tribute to a great nation's pride.

My Swans
by Helen George

My home is on the banks of a little creek,
Gazing along the edge I spot an orange beak,
Then this snowy white swan suddenly appears,
With seven little cygnets bringing up the rear.

As they float along, they bring a smile to my face,
The pen crooks her neck with such elegant grace,
She fluffs her great wings while dipping her head,
Searching out food while she silently treads.

Late afternoon brings the return of the cob,
Their beaks touch gently as on the water they bob,
They've mated for life and will nurture their brood,
Keep an eye out for predators lest they intrude.

They came last winter and decided to stay,
And the little ones arrived at the end of May,
I watch them in wonder, such a joyful sight,
Willing them to remain and not to take flight.

The Gray Wolf
by Helen George

The gray wolf is a sight you don't often behold,
He roams the wilderness, living wild and bold,
As an alpha male, he will dominate the pack,
Keep them always moving, following the tracks.

A magnificent specimen of the canine breed,
His long haired coat, which is splendid indeed,
May bear the markings of a Shepherd within,
While his face resembles his Malamute kin.

He mates for life and reproduces each spring,
The pups stay close, to their mother they cling,
Late in the summer they emerge from the den,
The pack is protective, their lives they defend.

A predator, the gray wolf's extinction seemed near,
But people intervened and over a course of years
A promising comeback was made - for today,
He's a wild creature whose freedom holds sway.

Wild Geese
by Helen George

Today I was treated to an awesome sight,
A flock of wild geese passing over in flight,
They fly while emitting a honking sound,
I watch as they move off, homeward bound.

The traditional vee formation holds sway,
With the strongest of them leading the way,
They'll travel miles before stopping to rest,
With food and shelter their overall quest.

At home in the north, the gander and his goose,
Guard their goslings at the sight of their roost,
Protect them from harm until they have grown
Self-reliant and strong, able to fend on their own.

Winter emerges and the weather grows cold,
Then an ages-old instinct begins to unfold,
The time for migration is felt deep within,
And the great trek southward slowly begins.

The Corner Grocery
by Helen George

I remember the corner grocery
at the end of the street where we lived,
once a week you shopped at the big A & P,
in between whatever was needed
you got from the corner grocery.

It was a time when groceries
were delivered right to your door
by a guy named Big Sam
who doffed his hat and said "Ma'am,"
and you tipped him a dollar or two.

The corner grocery was stocked complete,
you could purchase all manner of things,
what you purchased was tallied in a little book,
and you paid at the end of the week.

It was a neighborhood store so you
knew everyone and everyone also knew you,
but the owner didn't tolerate kids under his feet
and didn't hesitate to tell us to shoo,
unless we were buying and then decide quickly
for his patience was not very strong.

I spent lots of time in this old store,
stopped every day on the way home from school,
and the memories can still bring a smile,
though the old corner grocery is now passe,
yesteryear's scene, no longer in style.

Chasing The Rainbow
by Helen George

Be a drifter, a dreamer, a proud rainbow chaser,
When luck comes along, reach out to embrace her,
Strive to look for the good, not to dwell on the bad,
If you see the bright side of things, life's not so sad.

Live your life to the fullest, try to experience it all,
If you get knocked down, turn over and crawl
Till things get a little better, then stand up proud,
Move out from under that old dark gray cloud.

If life's got you down and you're wearing a frown,
Take time to look, for some good may come round,
Don't ever give up, hope lies just around the bend,
That rainbow has gold, you know, there at the end.

There's no problem so large it can't be gotten around,
Always follow your heart and you won't be let down,
Make chasing the rainbow a part of your scheme,
Embrace life, make your own luck, and dare to dream!

Beyond The Horizon
by Helen George

One born with wanderlust is born to be lonely,
The open road beckons and bids to you only,
To drop what you're doing and move beyond,
The road silently forges a very strong bond.

You might stay for a while in a nice little town,
But before too long, you start to look around,
In the distance, the horizon is pulling you in,
And ere long, you answer the call once again.

Old now and tired, you wish you could stop,
Becoming so weary you think you might drop,
But once you've rested up, it happens once more,
The road sends a signal, one you cannot ignore.

You've been many places, not much did you miss,
But when you look back, it all comes down to this:
You're that restless old fool, stooped and wizened,
Who still wonders what lies beyond the horizon.

A Love Of The Dance
by Helen George

Tonight, I watch my daughter leave with her date,
Going to a disco dance, she's allowed to stay late,
The whole night will be spent out on the dance floor,
Dancing to the BeeGees is something she adores.

I'm reminded of my own youth, when Elvis was king,
We danced to rock and roll, it was the greatest thing,
Then Chubby Checker came out with the Twist,
What a marvelous fad, no teenager could resist.

And mother remembers Jimmy Dorsey's big band,
When swing dancing up and ignited the land,
She did the boogie-woogie and the lindy hop, too,
There were no dances that she couldn't do.

And her mother, before her, a flapper was called,
She could shimmy with the best, leave them appalled,
So you see, we're a family with a love of the dance,
We don't sit around, we get out there and prance.

Is It Really Affection
by Helen George

My kitty just rubbed her chin against mine,
In return, I stroke her and tell her she's fine,
Is this how she chooses her love to define?
Or knowing I'd stroke her, is it done by design?

She rubs against my legs and meows so sweet,
For this show of affection, I give her a treat,
And I let her in bed when she paws at the sheet,
Is she showing she loves me or is this deceit?

When I arrive home, she meets me at the door,
Where she soulfully gazes as if to implore,
My bowl is empty, won't you please give me more?
If she weren't hungry, would she choose to ignore?

I sometimes wonder at these signs of affection,
When she's rewarded, is there some connection,
If such displays of love bring compensation,
Is it really affection... or an affectation?

Fledgling Sparrow
by Helen George

While watching the birds from my patio door,
I witnessed a sight I'd not witnessed before,
A tiny little sparrow, not yet full grown,
Was sitting near the fence waiting all alone.

It's a fledgling sparrow not long from the nest,
Trying out its wings and now stopping to rest,
It fluffs out its feathers and opens its beak,
Calling for the mother bird, it lets out a squeak.

Then bravely it flies up to the top of the fence,
Where the mother bird sees it and does commence
To offer it food from one beak to another,
It may have left home, but she's still its mother!

My New Honda
by Helen George

Retired and in my sixties, I suddenly find,
My old Buick Skylark has begun to unwind,
She's on her last legs, it's time to trade her in,
What should replace her... where do I begin?

Many cars were looked at, more than a few,
But none were quite right, what should I do?
I went back to the Honda, 'cause I liked the CRV,
But I couldn't decide if it was right for me.

Then just before Christmas, I thought this is it,
It's the one I want, I'm going to commit,
After the paperwork, this white Honda is mine,
And I've discovered she suits me just fine!

Little Gray Squirrel
by Helen George

From the fence, I hang food for the birds to eat,
And suet cakes have become a great treat,
Starlings are drawn to the peanut flavored one,
Peck away happily, fly off when they're done.

Lately, I've noticed a little gray squirrel, who
Has caught scent of this peanut suet cake, too,
He'll reach this treat, though the cage bars his way,
He won't give up trying if it takes him all day.

As he gallantly endeavors to reach his aim,
He favors his right hind foot 'cause he's lame,
But this doesn't impede him, he's found just the way,
And he hurries to try this without delay.

He hangs from the top of the fence by one foot,
On each side of the cage, his little hands he has put,
He gnaws 'tween the bars and eats with great zest,
Then lies atop the fence to take a short rest.

Tired from the effort of hanging upside down,
He scampers away, heads for the ground,
When he reaches the safety of the old oak tree,
He lies down again, exhausted, but pleased.

Origin Of Old Glory
by Helen George

In 1831, in the gray light of dawn,
While the dew was still wet out on the lawn,
Captain William Driver awoke with a grin,
Another sea voyage was about to begin.

Aboard the Charles Doggett, asea at last,
High up in the rigging, waving from the mast,
A 24 star flag hung in the bright morning light,
"Old Glory!" the Captain exclaimed at the sight.

Captain Driver awhile later retired to Nashville,
Where Old Glory was raised each day with a thrill,
The townspeople loved and respected this flag,
Until Tennessee seceded and they called it a rag.

Old Glory was taken down and hidden away,
The Rebels sought its whereabouts with dismay,
Old Glory wouldn't be seen again until 1862,
When Tennessee fell to the men wearing the blue.

Union forces captured the town in these days,
'Ore the capitol, an American flag they displayed,
Then Captain Driver brought forth Old Glory again,
And she was hoisted anew by the 6th Ohio's men.

Between two sides of a quilt she'd been hidden away,
Today, in the breeze, again she proudly does sway,
The men saluted Old Glory and adopted her name,
As they repeated her story, she gained great fame.

In Nashville Cemetery, at Captain Driver's grave,
A flag, though not Old Glory, constantly waves,
In respect for the Captain and his patriotic ways,
The flag waves from on high 24 hours each day.

Clouds
by Helen George

On a clear summer day, in a baby blue sky,
An array of cumulus clouds slowly drift by,
So puffy and billowy, and colored snow white,
They fill one with pleasure, ensuring delight.

Sometimes these same clouds turn a dark gray,
Sending forth signals that rain is on the way,
Clouds with silver linings may sometimes be found,
When your senses are awed and such beauty astounds.

A contrail cloud lingers where a jet has flown by,
And left in its wake a white line in the sky,
Or, low-lying fog blankets the valley in mist,
Obscuring the forest like it no longer exists.

Cloud formations intrigue me as they appear
High overhead in the earth's atmosphere,
I silently watch them as they cover the sky,
See how many different types I can identify.

Splendors Of The Sea
by Helen George

When you stand on the cliff and gaze out at the sea,
Your eye will behold splendors, a vast potpourri,
Waves may be heaving as in a tumultuous storm,
Or resting in calm, with their beauty transformed.

Far out on the horizon, your eye may be drawn
To great ships passing by that in minutes are gone,
Closer to shore, the gathering force of the waves,
Sends them spuming and crashing to a rocky grave.

Seagulls cry out in song as they skim the white crests,
Such a gathering of birds must surely impress,
Then a gray whale may suddenly rise to the top,
'Ere he dives, he coyly gives his fluke a great plop.

You might stay a long time, mesmerized by the sea,
Lost in your thoughts while enjoying the breeze,
The sea's hypnotic charm exerts a powerful pull,
And you drink in her splendor until you are full.

My Sweet Little Sugar
by Helen George

Sugar was very ill when she came into my life,
To keep her alive became a great strife,
She had constant diarrhea and wouldn't eat,
But she was always alert and, oh, so sweet.

The vet was baffled, couldn't find a cure,
What ailed poor Sugar was very obscure,
We tried every remedy, ran the whole course,
But nothing worked and she only got worse.

There were times she did seem a little bit better,
Always a trouper, you couldn't help but love her,
Sugar was playful, she soon captured my heart,
I didn't want to lose her, didn't want us to part.

She became very weak, could hardly move around,
In the end, it was more merciful to put her down,
So I held her, stroked her, and cried many tears,
The memories I have will keep her always near.

It's Human To Err
by Helen George

Today my tap dance teacher took me aside,
I would be part of a duet, she did confide,
For the upcoming dance recital, me and Paul
Would dance to the Darktown Strutters Ball.

Both happy and scared as the time drew near,
I was naive, thought there was nothing to fear,
Wearing a royal blue costume with silver trim,
I couldn't back out now, it was sink or swim.

The curtain parts, and we stand in its wake,
I'm suddenly all nerves, and I make a mistake,
I start dancing too soon and I feel so inept,
But I watch Paul's feet and I soon get in step.

Then I hear clapping, they're rooting for me,
They bolster my ego and fill me with glee,
A mistake shouldn't hurt you, make you despair,
After all, you are human, and it's human to err.

The Wonder of the Woods
by Helen George

I walk the paths lazily, just wandering along,
Listening to birds as they sing their sweet song,
Peering about for any creatures who might stir,
Watching them scuttle, passing by in a blur.

The sweet, heady scent of the honeysuckle vine
Drifts through the air, draws me in like sweet wine,
While quiet surrounds me, so tranquil and calm,
Bringing comfort and peace like a soothing balm.

In a cool, shady glen, moss and lichens grow,
And that old hollow log has mushrooms below,
Older trees standing tall, reaching up to the sky,
Their offshoots ensuring the species won't die.

The wonder of the woods one cannot ignore,
It calls out your name, begs you stop and explore,
Every chance that I'm given, I know I'll return,
For such woodland bliss my soul doth yearn.

My Black Cat
by Helen George

My black cat and I have a good rapport,
When I arrive home, she greets me at the door,
I reach down and pet her, whisper hello,
I'm happy to see her, I want her to know.

And she feels the same way, she's letting it show,
She brushes 'round my legs, meows her hello,
Reaches up and puts her paws on my knee,
Imparting her message "Won't you please hold me?"

So I hold her and stroke her under her chin,
And she purrs her delight and says do it again,
Rubs her chin against mine, I know what she meant,
She's showing she owns me by leaving her scent.

At times, when I'm standing bare-footed, I'll feel
Her sandpaper tongue as she licks at my heels,
Sometimes, when I stroke her, she nips at my arm,
But ever so gently, she means me no harm.

My love for my cat is whole and unmatched,
And she loves me right back, no conditions attached,
We're happy together and will stay that way,
Till one or the other of us reach the end of our days.

Cat Antics
by Helen George

They decided to let me sleep atop the TV,
Agreed not to move me, just let me be,
That this could cause a problem was quickly seen,
As I dropped my tail in front of the screen.

They bought me some brand new catnip toy,
Thought it would work, an excellent ploy,
I prefer to paw in the dirt, kick it all about,
That old flower pot's fun, of that, have no doubt.

Sometimes I assent to play with them there,
Catching the toy as it flies through the air,
Then I suddenly stop, ignore them, cry foul,
That's it, I'm done, I'm through playing now.

But, when all's said and done, I'm not a jerk,
I know how to win them, I give them a perk,
I rub against their legs, look up and meow,
They're thinking I love them (I'm thinking chow!).

It Lived Up To Its Name
by Helen George

The Embers was a restaurant of some renown,
Attended by large crowds from all around,
The chef was the best, he boasted great fame,
But everyone agreed he lived up to this claim.

The food was scrumptious, and served just right,
The desserts mouth-watering, tempting delights,
Yes, the menu offered many tasty sensations,
And everyone agreed it lived up to expectations.

One dark night, The Embers burned to the ground,
And only scattered ashes were left to be found,
The Embers was gone, 'twas no one to blame,
But everyone agreed it lived up to its name.