Biography of Cecilia Parkin
Began writing poetry about 30 years ago mainly for special friends, or occasions.Have had many poems published romantic, religous, serious, funny, topical.
Cecilia Parkin Poems
His Life For Our Life.
I keep the Cross before my eyes And know the sacrifice He made. His life for mine, His life for ALL Is what his dieing did that day.
The crows swing silently On the telephone wires Like a row of mourners Blackly attired.
Abba Father hold me close When my faith is tried.
Pilgrimage To The Past.
I pushed aside the braken From your lonely grave, And peered at the tombstone Blackened with age.
She looked my way, then smiled and waved. The perfect blonde - less half my age, I was entraped - she so behaved.
An Ode To My Friend.
What gossamer threads, though strong as steel Bind us together - as friend to friend. What common ground do we share In spoken and un-spoken words, deeds success
A Message To My Love.
When first we met and sat, Hands and hearts touching 'neath starry skies, I knew only your golden hair and laughing eyes.
The train - no shove or push Just one step up Into a compartment of red plush, Upholstered seats, pictures above,
Oh Lord, let me fly - my heart be free Of dogma and habit styfling me. Let me walk always as you would walk, Let me talk - as you would talk.
The earth, the sun, the sea, the sky To your power they testify. The birds, the bees, flowers and trees, Your creation - how they please.
Looking For You
I look for you everywhere My mind tells me your there - somewhere 'Cause when I close my eyes to sleep Your there, as large as life to me
There will come a time in life, I know When I shall cease to be - A partof this life's ebb and flow - Earthly humanity.
What happened to the days of old When one could walk abroad - so bold. Wander at will through country fields, Down peaceful lanes with leafy trees.
My enigma is the Enneagram A sort of 'numbers game', By choice of numbers one to nine A pattern will be mine.
To-morrow we would meet again,
Long years in-between.
Would he remember words last said
And what just might have been.
Was it cruel fate that just after
My troth was pledged elsewhere,
The spark was lit between us two
That long had lingered there.