Ann Beard Poems
|43.||The Green Hills Of Drury||10/15/2007|
|45.||Love Gone Love Gone.||1/6/2009|
|46.||Degree Of Fear||3/15/2008|
|48.||Two Way Profound.||2/2/2009|
|49.||A Jacaranda Tree.||1/6/2008|
|50.||The Winds Of Borrowed Time||7/6/2007|
|51.||Two Shades Of Green||2/25/2009|
|52.||I Never Saw Her Cry.||7/30/2007|
|55.||Between Walls Of Pale Lilac.||3/4/2008|
|57.||As I Used To Be.||3/30/2008|
|58.||A Lady With Cake.||12/14/2008|
|59.||A Letter To My Dad||8/10/2007|
Comments about Ann Beard
“I would like to help”, little more than a whisper,
misty brown eyes turned to stare where I stood.
“I would like to try” the words came out crisper,
resolve filling all of the places it could.
I had watched him struggle to rise from a chair,
had felt the frustration that threatened his calm.
Firmly bracing myself to take on his glare
“I needed to come and I wish you no harm”.
Falling back in the chair his face turning ashen
his body was shrunken to quite half its size.
The illness had robbed him of life’s very passion,
apart from the last spark of ...
I Never Saw Her Cry.
She did not shed a single tear,
the weeks that she lay dying.
No pain was felt to feed her fear
the morphine soaked up every tear
I never saw her crying.
She'd only ask, 'Don't leave me here
alone, she says, while sighing.
I held her hand, sat very near