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Monday, September 12, 2011

The Music Isn't There


 
There was a time when I was young that life was oh, so grand                    
I’m sure I wasn’t worthy of such a perfect hand
I walked along the seashore, the moonlight on my hair
I woke at dawn and laughed and sang, I didn’t have a care.

The world spun round for me alone, and all good things were mine
I thought that it would never change, life always would be fine
But I don’t have to tell you ~ you know as well as I
Good things don’t last forever, we sometimes have to cry.

One day there came into my life a special kind of friend
I thought of nothing day and night but spending time with him
He said he’d love me always, and never would depart
Then he grew bored and went away, shattering my heart

And now I walk along the shore, the moonlight on my hair
I wake at dawn but when I sing, the music isn’t there
Neither is there laughter, nor does the earth still twirl
Nothing good is left for me; I’m just a lonely girl.
                                                                   ~pth 1981



Monday, August 22, 2011

Just One More Day

Please give me ‘til tomorrow
Before you go away
I’d beg, I’d steal or borrow
If only you would stay. 
                 
We’ve been so long together
Our hearts have grown that way
So what’s it matter whether
You stay just one more day?

Just give me ‘til tomorrow
To think and kneel and pray
To let go of the sorrow
That’s plaguing me today.

Then we’ll kiss and say goodbye
I’ll turn and walk away
I promise you I will not cry
Just give me one more day!
                                 pth~


This poem also appears in Page & Spine Literary
 Magazine and the book, Sweet Whispers of Youth


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Sweet Whispers Of Love



 Do you love me?

I long to hear the words, but 
      you do not speak them.
Instead, you lavish me with “things,”

Don't you know that objects cannot
      satisfy the burning heart that
      yearns to hear 
Sweet whispers of love.

I pity you... for if you are not capable
      of expressing love, then
Perhaps you are also incapable of feeling it. 
                                                 pth~ 1980


This poem also appears in Page & Spine Literary
 Magazine and the book, Sweet Whispers of Youth

Monday, August 15, 2011

A Ghost From The Past




Somewhere in the shadowy beauty of a summer’s day,
Lingering in the humid air like a morning fog                               
Is a lovely memory of summers past.

Of barefoot days and carefree ways~
Of reveling in the wonder of
God’s perfect creation without really noticing;
Certain that youth would always be mine.

But as all things pass, so passes youth~ and now I am
Mired in a world of cares~ with no time to enjoy
The miracle I once took for granted.

But the memory lurks there still
Calling to me like a ghost from the past...
I cannot go back.
Ah, how I wish I could!
                                                 pth~

Monday, August 1, 2011

Remembering You

The days were warm and sunny
In August when we met;
I think it’s kind of funny
How the memory lingers yet
                                 
Of sandy hair and boyish grin
And dancing eyes of blue,
Of wit and charm and winning ways –
Yes, I remember you!

As days went by, we shared so much
Of life and love and dreams and such;
You made my world a rosy hue –
Ah, I remember you!

December brought its chilling winds
By now, we two were more than friends.
We made a snowman, trimmed the tree,
Sat by the fire, you sang to me.

The glory of the springtime brings
Green grass, a flower, a bird that sings.
This year I saw it all anew
Because I was in love with you.

Then summer came and went so fast;
Just like our love, it couldn’t last.
Your head was turned by someone new;
You went away – my heart did, too!

Once more it’s August warm and bright,
I think of you both day and night.
What can I say, what can I do?
It hurts so much remembering you!
                                         pth~


Sunday, April 3, 2011

For Debbie~



How deep is my sorrow,
How intense is my pain?
How bleak looks tomorrow,
         Will there be only rain?

My sorrow is deeper than any sea
          And the pain is hard to bear;
How can another tomorrow be
          Knowing you won’t be there?

I miss your smile each morning
     Your loving touch at night,
The birds don't sing as sweetly,
     The sunshine's not as bright.

To be with you again, my love
     Would be my greatest fate,
But my heart goes right on beating
     While my soul longs for its mate! 
                                                         pth~

©2014 Peggy Toney Horton




 

Saturday, March 12, 2011

But Didn't

Did you ever think at close of day
Of kindly words you meant to say—
                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think when day is done
Of errands kind you could have run—
                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at daytime’s end
Of flowers bright you meant to send—
                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think when skies are red
Of hungry mouths you could have fed—
                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at dawn of night
Of letters kind you meant to write—
                          But didn’t?

Do you ever think at life’s set of sun
You’ll think of deeds you could have done—
                          But didn’t?

                              ~Kathryn Thorne Bowsher

Monday, March 7, 2011

A Few Thoughts On Growing Old


  • Old age arrives suddenly as does the snow 
  • The entire life of a human being depends upon “yes” and “no” uttered two or three times between the ages of 16 and 25. 
  • Old age embellishes everything. It has the effect of the setting sun on the beautiful twilights of autumn. 
  • The person who considers himself too old to learn something has probably always been that way. 
  • So long as one continues to be amazed, one can delay growing old. 
  • It is by growing old that one learns to remain young. 
  • It's not about the lines on the face - it's about the wisdom behind them. 
  • Youth is a wonderful thing.  What a crime to waste it on children.  ~George Bernard Shaw 
  • There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.


Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Love Is


Love is a warm spring day, a moonlit
        night, green meadows, daffodils
        swaying in the breeze, closeness,
        understanding, needing, not caring
        what other people say, a red rose,
        belonging, longing, frustration,
        pain...
                                ~pth


 This poem appears in the book "Sweet Whispers of Love."

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Solitude

The fresh spring rain has subsided,
     leaving a heavy fog hanging
 in the early morning air. The only
     hint of life nearby is the sound of
birds singing outside my window.
 
My heart is as heavy as the
     smothering fog because I have
     awakened to the realization that
 your pillow has not been slept on.
 
Our once deep love has diminished
     like the rain; a simple
     misunderstanding developed
into a quarrel, created hostility and
     finally surrendered to indifference.
 
Now you are gone and my life is as
     empty as the six a.m. streets. 
 I have only the sweet smell of spring
     rain, the music of singing birds, and
 lovely memories.
                                 ~ pth
 

Friday, February 25, 2011

Be Gone Sweet Youth!

Be gone, sweet youth
I do not care that you are waning now,
Nor will I whine and beg you stay –
Who needs you anyhow?

Be gone, sweet childhood days of yore
When care was far away,
Even if you could,
I would not beg you stay.

Away, sweet adolescent years
Of discovering love and pain
Even if I wanted to,
I can’t see you again.

Be gone, young wedded years
Of plans and hopes and dreams;
I can’t recall your good points
My memory fails, it seems.

I sampled your sweet offerings
Laughed and loved and cried
But when I felt secure in life,
Then you just up and died!

So, be gone, sweet youth
Take with you all your vows;
I will not whine and beg you stay
Who needs you anyhow?
                                  ~PTH

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Do Not Speak To Me Of Love

Do not speak to me of love
It would only bring me pain,
It’s true I’ve been in love before,
But shall not love again.

I used to think ‘twas love that made
The world go spinning ‘round,
But now I know that true love
Can’t possibly be found.

I gave my heart to one who vowed
He’d always be around,
Then one day he left me and my world
Came crashing down.

So, to speak to me of love my friend
Would truly be absurd;
For me, love has no meaning,
It’s just another word!
                                ~pth

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Uninvited

Loneliness is a cold, steel blade
Cutting at the heart..
Not swiftly, so as to ease the pain,
But with a cruel slowness.

Creeping in uninvited
While the sun sleeps and the silence
   is deafening
It tortures the soul and refuses to
   stop
Until it is dipped once again...
Into the searing hot fires of love!
                                

Monday, February 21, 2011

Comes The Dawn

I can't take credit for writing this one. Wish I could. I've carried it around for years, but haven't a clue who wrote it.  If anyone knows, please share it with me.
                                ~~~
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean nothing
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head held high and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans.
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong.
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every good-bye, you learn.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Do You Ever



Do you ever think about me
When you’re down and feeling blue?
Do you remember little things
I used to say and do?

Do you ever see my face in the
Mirror of your mind,
When life is quite disturbing
And no comfort you can find?

When you’re weary at day’s end
And lonely not by choice,
Do you sometimes speak about me;
Do you think you hear my voice?

Do you reach to touch my hand
Knowing that I’ll understand
What it is you’re going through
And be there just for you?

If at times you think about me,
See me, hear me, touch me, too,
Then you must understand, my love
I’m still a part of you!
                                         ~PTH



Friday, February 18, 2011

Jonathan

I knew him only as a friend
To say ‘twas more, I’d just pretend
And yet, who knows what might have been

I loved him only as friends do
I’m sure that’s how he loved me, too
Now who can prove that that’s not true?

So near and yet so far were we
As close as we could ever be
For I was thirty-nine, you see
And twenty-five was he.

I hoped that it would never die
This friendship we had, he and I
But then it did ~ Oh how I cried!

Could this have been a friendship
Of a different kind
If my age were his and his were mine?

Might we have been true lovers
At another time
If I’d been only twenty-five
And he’d been thirty-nine?
                    ~pth