Biography of Gayle Sweeney
Live in New England, had a wonderful childhood reading books, playing in the woods and dreaming of being a native American Indian. Encountered a bear in the Sierra Nevada when I was about twenty two - it was up the trail from me a bit all of a sudden! I didnt recall that incident til years later when I was playing the piano and started to get flashbacks. My mind could have been protecting itself by forgetting while I was in the wilderness... went to St. Mary's College in Notre Dame - had season tix to the football games! ! ! graduated from U. Mass Amherst where I studied Art History, Theatre and Voice. Now I do volunteer work for environmental nature kind of research and development at Hampton Beach, NH..USA and I research my family history as well. Thank you Gayle Sweeney
Gayle Sweeney Poems
A Blue Jay
A blue jay's feathered back holds spots of white clouds And soft, glistening blue. Upon its wings is painted days of sapphires And snowy flurries, too.
A Quiet Night Alone
A full cookie cutter moon is sparkling Like a pearl brooch dripping with diamonds. Bright stars are sprinkled across the night sky. I made a wish upon a star on high.
Zinnias In A Rye Garden
Along a sunny front yard In a Rye garden On the ocean route Where heavenward zinnias shine,
A Shooting Star
Between the tall, darkened evergreen trees Some twinkling stars shined In the night brightly.. The black sky is a melody
A Red Tulip
I remember A bright red tulip and more Grew in the backyard... and a maple. The maple tree is still there growing
A Bird On The Wire
Beyond a bird on the wire Is a sky of light blue triumphing sapphire. I looked up at the sapphire and the bird Thinking if I could only sing a song of sunshiny words.
A Cardinal In Winter
A sunny cardinal in the tall, snowy evergreen tree Wore a shining coat the shade of red berries so joyfully. While I looked dreamily outdoors towards the small, white, Wintry woods
An Appalachian Bowl
A patch of feathered cloud white is glazed inside the center Of the small, round handmade bowl - Kiln fired, down from by the Tennessee mountains.
How lucky I was alone earlier at a sunny hour To have gazed upon a splendid blue sky and tulip flowers! The shining blooms had opened peacefully like a prayer book. With purely painted petals the waking world - so wondrous, looked.
A big lemony butterfly floated up with a sunny breeze And drifted amoung the cool green leaves of the old, black cherry trees. It was seen clearly dancing in the air and then not found at all, Cloaked in cloisonne' as if it was going to an evening ball.
A Winter Night
Powdery white snow blanketed the trees Where boughs beckoned to us so peacefully. The earth was once green and brought flowers and joy. Up in the black sky stars can tell us stories.
Have the broken cookie that's left? No, I don't mind. For you know broken cookies are one of a kind. My hair is not combed and I need a manicure - One that through scrubbing dishes the color endures.
While raking the old garden to make room For spring green sprouts he heard a sudden yelp. On the ground he couldn't see a thing doomed But there had been a distressed cry for help.
To Provence! !
It was spring then And my niece was a student in Paris. My sister and I had flown from Boston together For a visit.
The pure, springtime symphony of
Yellow daffodils in the skyward garden
Shine at a dancing hour.
A soft, blossomy throng
Those sunny flowers.
Like trumpets coram populo
They play with gold instilled as
This azure day drinks in the songs
Their blooms so gladly peddle.