Welcome to Morning Glory. I hope you enjoy your visit. Poems by Ella Mae Godfrey Driver

Living In A Castle
Ella Mae Godfrey Driver
This house looks shabby, weather-beaten, and torn
from the wear and tear of all kinds of weather
through the years.
But has shown no fears, nor cried no tears
down through the years.
People stopping by for a while ask why
We don't tear this old house down,
and not leave it standing around.
But, this house has been a shelter
for me in all kinds of weather.
And people stopping by
don't realize that I
am living in a castle so tall
With high, high walls;
And that once upon a time
there lived a king in this castle of mine,
As strange as it may seem.
People don't see swinging chandeliers in the halls
nor famous pictures on the walls.
So people stopping by
don't realize that I
am living in a castle so tall.
It seems like all the farmers are talking about
Giving up on farming and selling out
To the big industrial corporations,
Without any consideration.
To help the government build bigger towns, schools;
Ballparks, swimming pools,
Airports, space ships, race tracks;
Highways and freeways for their Cadillacs.
To teach children to become famous
Athletes, astronauts and robots;
To go upon the moon, Jupiter, Mars
And on to the stars.
When there are no farmers left
To till the land, to plant the seed;
Wait for the summer rain,
To help grow the golden grain
To harvest, to take to the market, to sell,
There soon won't be any children playing at noon,
No merchants in the store houses selling food;
Nobody to go upon the moon ...
When there are no farmers left.
I like pink buttons
And purple bows.
I like pink elephants
And little purple elves.
I like pink foxes
In purple boxes.
I like a pink belt
And a hat of felt.
And it tickles me plumb
Pink to think of pink
Buttons and purple bows,
Plumb down to my toes.
A Great Life
It's a great life,
Although there's strife.
It's a great life
When we stop to behold
The beauty of the night unfold,
When we awake to see
The morning light so free,
When we see the morning star
Shining so marvelous afar,
When we awake to a brand new day,
And we bow our heads and pray;
When we thank our heavenly Father
For his love and mercy together,
Even though there's strife ...
It's a great life.
My land is an integrated land
With red clay, black soil and white sand,
And  roads like streaks of gold,
Not paved with concrete to hide the glow;
Where people come and go,
For they love the beauty of the country so.
Every man wants his own land
So he can watch his harvest grow,
With the hills all aglow,
And fields and meadows down below,
In wheat, barley, and corn, row after row,
To harvest before the winter snow.
My land is an integrated land
With red clay, black soil and white sand,
And hills, fields, meadows and lakes;
Turtles, fish, mosquitoes, and snakes;
Trees, birds, bees and rocks of pearl;
Coyotes, fox, rabbits and squirrel.
For my land is an integrated land;
And blends in with nature's plan,
In harmony with the animals and man.
The beautiful red rose is well know
The whole wide world over, I suppose.
A song about a different kind of rose.
Pink is the color chosen
For the beautiful wild rose
That rambles on and on;
Far away  or around home.
But, there is a blue rose
Down in Alabama that's not well known.
As blue as the beautiful
Blue bird up in an apple tree
singing for you and me.
And as blue as the beautiful blue
Morning Glory in the morning dew.
But, no one knows about this blue
Alabama Rose ...
Except me and you.
For A Group of Cousins
Tradition by Dorcas
I saw a picture of a bridge
Taken sometime ago.
I thought of a tradition
With a bridge on
an old country road.
I wonder if that bridge every gets lonely:
I wonder if a tear ever falls below;
I wonder if it ever listens
For footsteps' echo.
Does it ever lie waiting
Hoping that it is so;
The cousins will come walking
As they did Thanksgivings ago.
Text 2
More text goes here.