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

Livig 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.