The Poetry of Ann Margetson

SEARCHING FOR COINS

I watched a little girl looking down on the ground,
Searching for coins she seemed purposely bound,
Her face lit up if even just a penny she did find,
The sight of her stooped body weighed on my mind.

The weather was cold and she was quite ill clad,
I wondered if those were the only clothes she had?
No mittens or gloves graced her tiny hand that day,
But she couldn’t pick up coins, they’d be in the way.

I went to offer her money, but to beg she could not
That was one thing Papa said, she had never forgot,
She wanted gifts for Christmas for mom and brother,
And Bill was doing the same on one street or another.

My heart ached for this family who were trying hard
To get money for gifts, maybe just one Christmas card
Would cheer the day, to find a dime or quarter or two,
I tried to think for this family what I could quietly do.

I pretended to walk away but watched they she went on
Then I saw a boy coming and his peaked face shone,
‘I found a twoonie Betty dear and two dimes as well
And I have almost a dollar’ they were happy I could tell.

They walked for quite awhile to an old tall tenement,
Pressed the fourth button down and in they both went,
I made a note of the name and of the street address,
I would find out more and then as santa go and dress.

People were helpful and there was a great need,
A mother with two young children to have to feed
Her husband was killed and no insurance came,
The landlord was kind and only a little rent did claim.

Mom and two children I told my family that night
And you should have seen the activity, what a sight,
Presents by the Christmas, three they wanted to give,
And get lots of food so they could much better live.

I will leave the ending to your own thoughts today
And maybe find a way to help someone walk away
From pain and hurt and poverty by a small kind act
And as Christmases come and go, do a special act.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson

Copyright October 18 2006

Verse flows like a spring from deep within my heart,
It comes uninvited, but a welcome guest on my part,
Something sparks a thought and so I start to write,
And the Lord blesses me with a special insight .

I saw a blind man and his dog, as happy as can be,
A child in a wheel chair, singing away so pleasantly,
A boy with no arms play so well with his little friend,
Thought how adversity helped them joy to others send.

I love what God gave me has enabled me to write,
Blessed me through the years to pray with all my might
For power to touch a hurting soul with a simple line
Of poetry, helped someone smile or at last feel fine.

A little knowledge that I gained and God’s gift to me
Has blessed me that I can be an influence for good you see,
Even help a child who has gone astray, or is lost and alone,
Find their way back to loved ones and want to go home.

If I see suffering, my heart cries within and I want to heal,
Not by the touch of a hand, but words that are real,
A comforting poem that wells up from my heart,
Knowing of God that loves all and doing my small part.

M. Ann Margetson
© October 15, 2000
2000/Deepwithin

Stop for a moment and thinks about words.
What springs to mind when you hear herds?
Some roaming cattle across a great dry plain?
Or shepherd and dog bringing sheep home again?

But herds of white clouds in a bright blue sky
Can bring another picture, I wonder why?
Or a frightened crowd being herded along
These words the same, yet different, not wrong.

It is a way with words that makes a good book,
Makes the reader smile and take another look,
Changing the meaning by a twist of a word
Will paint a new picture, or a new meaning heard.

Just sit down and write using a word many ways,
It will bring you a smile on dark, dismal days,
Then do not be shocked if one day you find
You have a story or book in your active mind.

M. Ann Margetson
© September 30, 2000
2000/awaywith

Road works, the bane of a driver’s life,
They cause many souls trouble and strife,
Sometimes you crawl along, even stand still,
They are every few miles, you have had your fill
Of stopping and starting, wasting gas and time,
You try another way, to be fast is your aim.
But there stands a man with a sign and red hat,
More road works ahead, your plan falls flat.
Blood pressure and heart pills are on the increase,
And will continue to rise till the road works cease,
But then one day you sail along a fast highway,
Now was it worth all that anguish? Yes, I’d say!

M. Ann Margetson
© September 25, 2000
2000/Adrivers

The ruins of the castle stood cold and grey
Against the gathering gloom at the close of day.
Winds echoed sounds of laughter and of pain,
As it told of life through sunshine and rain.

It must have been a grand sight when new and clean,
Many tall turrets, a moat and high flying flags seen,
No one could miss it on the brow of the green hill.
Now all that is left is broken walls, rubble, cold and still.

Yet steps, worn, still lead to dungeons deep and dark,
Those taken there never heard the song of the lark
Or saw the sun rise and set through a happy day.
I wonder for what trivial crime they did pay?

One turret still stands, the moat floods when it rains,
Walls three feet thick rise among the crumbled remains
Of the castle so cruel, so kind, once mighty and strong,
And just the echoing wind, laughter and pain, its song.

M. Ann Margetson
© August 17, 2000
2000/Echos