The Poetry of Ann Margetson

The clouds were great white stallions rushing across the sky,
The thunder was their pounding hooves as they went by,
The lightening, the striking of metal shoes on whetted stone,
The sight could chill the bravest soul to the very bone.

See them galloping onward, homeward bound they go,
Heads tossing so wildly, their ragged manes all a-flow
As they strain in haste to beat the storm that gathered around,
The rain begins to fall, the noble creatures drop to the ground.

No longer great white stallions gallop, they have gone to rest,
Grey ghosts take their place, as the rain falls, its great quest
Was to wash away all earthly things, or so it seemed to me,
As I watched the storm tear at things to destroy deliberately.

Gone are my great stallions, just grey ghosts left to roam
The great expanse of restless sky, It’s good to have a home,
For out there, the wind whips and tears and rends apart,
So many a soul trembles, some pray with all their heart.

The rains have slowed, now the clouds move soft and slow,
It’s as if the tired stallions homeward what to go.
They have run the race and fallen, but are up to try again,
And will gallop across the stormy sky till the ghosts come again.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 25, 2000
2000/Whitest

The grey lake melded with the sky
In one great mass of dismal dullness.
Stillness enveloped those who walked by
And they were swallowed up in mistiness.

Sound was silenced in a blanket of grey,
Footfalls hushed, dimmed was any light.
Somewhere outside this there was a day
Shining on others, quite warm and bright.

Fight sun for your right to shine this day,
Do not let mists of darkness hide your face,
Your daily hours are short, not long your stay,
Come warm sun and all this gloom chase.

Was that a brighter spot in the gloom?
Is the lake now separate from the sky?
It that a sweet flower in full bloom?
And were those sparrows flying by?

Look, the sun has broken the bonds
Of mists, set us free from fear and woe,
Given us hope with light and sweet songs
Of birds, now cheerfully we may onward go

M. Ann Margetson
© May 23, 2000
2000/Dismakmorn

She sat by the wall, still as the stone itself,
Cold and lifeless, except for flashing eyes.
No one noticed her on the empty shelf
If they did, they showed no surprise.

Did her hand move for a moment
As she sat waiting for what, or who?
I gazed, frozen, myself in wonderment
At the stone form clothed in blue.

Slowly as if the rock were splitting
She rose, stiff and jointed, to her feet
A smile cracked, features changing
As a young child she came to meet.

Life seeped through the human rock
As her gnarled hand, held the hand
Of the pretty child at the dock,
Then walked together along the sand.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 22, 2000
2000/Bluestone

Fathers guide your children onward,
Guide them to their home above.
Be a father full of goodness
Be a father full of love
Guide your children, guide your children
To their heavenly home above.

Fathers follow Christ’s example
In all the things you do and say.
Show them with much tender loving
Show the true and faithful way
Show your children, show your children
By the things you do and say.

Fathers never force your children
To do the right things each day.
Show them gently, show them kindly
Freedom to choose the right way
Teach your children, teach your children
Choose the right things every day.

Fathers, one day you’ll be worthy
Of a kingly throne on high.
Lead your children onward, upward
To be together when you die.
Love your children, love your children
With a love that never dies.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 21, 2000
2000/Fathersguide

Sing to Hymn Number 83, Hymnal of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints

A picture of a maiden standing tall by a stream,
Her pretty head held high, she was looking far away,
As if she were not present but in some pensive dream,
Dream of a loved one who may come to her one day.
She looked across a meadow to the setting sun,
Her shawl draped only on one slender shoulder,
Although the scene showed fall had just begun.
What thoughts could keep her so still, and hold her?
In her delicate hand, a letter, almost letting it fall,
As if the words had become part of her heart,
The birds in the scene, you could almost hear them call
They looked so real, they wished to do their part
To add a loving special touch to the pleasing scene
And give a sense of peace, making it feel real.
Then the eyes lower in the shadow, if eyes are keen
You see a tiny child crying, as if to try and seal
The sorrow in the painting that first I thought was glad,
But casting my eyes downward it was meant to be sad.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 17, 2000
2000/ apictureof

I always looked forward to the summer holidays
For my dear dad would be home from work.
We may go away for a week or take odd days
And go to special places, where he would never shirk
In finding wonderful things to do, games and to play.
We’d walk through the sand dunes flying a kite,
Build sandcastles to fight the sea at the end of the day,
Then take me for a walk to see all the stars at night.
He was always so very busy the whole year through,
I saw him at breakfast as we all rushed around,
Then at the evening meal and share the chores too.
He was my special pal, no better one could be found.
So to have him for one whole week in the summer time
Was something I looked forward too every single day.
When I grew up I looked for a boy who would be mine,
One thing I wanted in him, the quality of a good dad.
Many hours I’ve seen him play, fight the sea in the sun,
Climbed mountains and wiped a child’s eyes when sad.
Fixed things when broken, bathed them when day was done.
Dad’s sometimes find it hard to tell you that they care
But never worry, a true dad will always be there.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 16, 2000
2000/Wonderfuldads

Last night I lit a candle that flickered and danced around
This was given with love on mothers day and in it I found
Peace and pure contentment, it filled me with joy,
Nothing could, last night, my sweet peace annoy.

Some plants are mine given with love for mothers day,
They will grace our garden in a special kind of way,
For every time I look at them love comes in my heart,
For a mothers love is eternal and we will never part.

I had cards on mothers day all with words so sweet,
They filled me with love and I remembered tiny feet
Scurrying on some mothers day many years ago,
Each wanting to be first their gifts to me show.

I know my children love me, know they really care,
And they know when they need me, I’ll be always there.
For the bond of mothers and child is as sacred as can be,
And will last this whole life through and into eternity.

M. Ann Margetson.
© May 15, 2000
2000/Acandlefor

The other day without warning day turned to night,
The heavy clouds covered any signs of real light.
Everywhere you looked was a funny shade of brown,
Then all at once the heavy rain came tumbling down.

You could not see across the road, cars had to stop,
All scurried for shelter, being soaked by every drop
That came from heaven, has it rained like this before?
Perhaps years ago when there was the flood and Noah.

Window wipers were useless, lights no use at all,
The rain was so loud you could hear no one call,
Streets turned to rivers before your very eyes,
Those that could stayed indoors, they were wise.

Then it slowly stopped just for a little while
To set false security and make you smile.
Them along came more clouds and darkness,
More lightening and thunder rolls to give distress.

Most back yards had new swimming pools,
Flower heads flattened, soaking wet tools.
No birds at all singing any sweet melody,
They could not fly in that, oh, what misery.

Then the sky lightened, but no blue could be seen,
The trees and grass looked a brighter shade of green.
Was the storm over? Not on your life, not just yet.
Lightening ripped the sky again, could we be more wet?

It went on all day, we thought we’d wash away.
Evening brought constant lightening our way,
It danced across the sky as the thunder rolled
I was grateful for the promise made of old.

The Lord would not ever flood the world again,
Just burn it up, but if we’re good, we’ll feel no pain,
I wonder if the rain came to warn us to beware,
That He is in control and our lives prepare.

Prepare for the day when He shall come again
In all his love and glory on this earth to reign.
That rain was scary when it came tumbling down
But not as bad than if He meets us with a frown.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 14, 2000
2000/Andtherain

Were we forgetful? Did we forget lots of things?
Did our mind dwell on round-a-bouts and swings,
Rather than the home work or projects to be done.
Or were we all perfect, little angels everyone?

Most children of today forget things every day,
From lunches to homework, but don’t forget to play.
Even forget money for pizza day or a special trip,
Forget their band instrument, or do up their zip.

But thinking back to days past when I was young
I must admit to forgetfulness, or it would be wrong,
I left my homework on the bus, lost my ticket too.
Went to school on PA day, I was really blue.

Yet one thing I remembered, never did forget,
Was my lunch bag, that was a very sure bet,
I may forget my pencil, eraser and my old pen,
Forget about a project, leave it in the den,

But ‘snappin’* was essential for us to survive,
Because I took the best lunch, in it I would dive.
So began the bartering for the contents of my bag,
I could have riches and about my mother brag.

M Ann Margetson
© May 14, 2000
2000/Whenwe.wpd

* Snappin is a Potteries colloqialism for lunch bag. Ann grew up in the ‘Potteries District’ of England, in Stoke on Trent.

Am I worthy to be called mother dear?
My actions good, show God’s love is near,
Do I measure up well to that noble name
Or should I bow my head in utter shame?

Help me Lord to always choose the right,
Help me keep thy countenance in sight
As I press forward daily, striving to be
A mother worthy for now and eternity.

Help me pray for guidance and love,
Keep me aiming for heaven above,
Help me try to find kindly ways
With love, to guide though all my days.

Give me understanding dear Lord,
Help in me find a soft, gentle word,
A heart that will always judge fairly
And try no favourite child to display.

I long to be a mother fit for God above,
Fit to meet each child with perfect love,
Fit to see the family gathered all around
And so my eternal purpose truly found.

M. Ann Margetson
© May 5, 2000
POEMS 2000/Amiworthy