Another Villanelle “My Love”

My love for you will never die
but shall grow stronger, everyday
while eagles flap their wings to fly.

Across the blue unending sky
where clouds like angels fly away,
my love for you will never die.

Without you here, I start to cry.
I wonder why you did not stay
while eagles flap their wings to fly.

Beside the mountain green and high,
my heart will never go astray.
My love for you will never die.

And still I ask the question why
my blue unending sky turns gray
while eagles flap their wings to fly.

My heart will soar and sail and sigh
above the clouds where angels play.
My love for you will never die
while eagles flap their wings to fly.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

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If You Must Fight For Country

Flag of the U.S.A.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If You Must Fight For Country

If you must fight for country, lad, be brave.
March straight in tracks that former troops have trod.
Do not let those who hate you choose your grave.

Our country is our home that we must save
from hands of men who turn cold hearts to God.
If you must fight for country, lad, be brave.

The enemy may capture you to rave
of bold attempts to break you like a rod.
Do not let those who hate you choose your grave.

Raise high “The Stars and Stripes” to watch her wave
in triumph, give your firm salute and nod.
If you must fight for country, lad, be brave.

The steps you take must make boot prints to pave
the winding route for future men to plod.
Do not let those who hate you choose your grave.

To keep our country’s freedom that we crave,
some died—they now lie deep beneath the sod.
If you must die for country, lad, be brave.
Do not let those who hate you choose your grave.

 

© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols

 

 

Shepherd’s Song

 

Shepherd’s Song

I long to hear the shepherd’s song
of peace and praise on yonder hill.
The sheep are bleating loud and strong.
This is the place where they belong.
They graze among the daffodil.
I long to hear the shepherd’s song.
His music reaches to a throng
that gathers near an old windmill.
The sheep are bleating loud and strong.
The voice of meadowlark is still.
I long to hear the shepherd’s song.
The world is good and nothing’s wrong
where music rings o’er rock and rill.
The sheep are bleating loud and strong.
It thrills my heart to hum along
and listen to the lark’s sweet trill.
I long to hear the shepherd’s song;
the sheep are bleating loud and strong.

© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols

Oh, Valentine

Valentine’s Day is getting close. The calendar, chocolates on the store shelves, cards and fresh rose bouquets all announce that the special day will soon arrive.  When I was a child in elementary school, a boy in my class gave me a handmade card for Valentine’s Day.  The card was pretty, decorated with white paper lace. The other classmates chanted, “Freeda and Ed are going to wed!”  Their prediction did not happen, but I never forgot the card, the boy, or the singsong rhyme of the chant meant to tease Edward and me.

How much influence did that experience have on my becoming a poet? I wonder. The following poem was created for a Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas competition.

Oh, Valentine

Oh, Valentine, to make you smile

on days when rain is cold and damp,

I will dress up in lace and style.

I will go down the darkest mile

to guide you like a shining lamp,

oh, Valentine, to make you smile.

I’ll write love letters all the while

until my fingers start to cramp.

I will dress up in lace and style.

Be mine, I say to reconcile

and ask if you will be my champ––

oh, Valentine, to make you smile.

To keep away the crocodile,

I’ll stand as guard beside your camp.

I will dress up in lace and style.

When I lock up my domicile,

upon my door will be this stamp:

oh, Valentine, to make you smile,

I will dress up in lace and style.

c Copyright, 2000, Freeda Baker Nichols