Liilia Talts Morrison
Biography of Liilia Talts Morrison
Liilia loves Florida, which is the subject of many of her poems and writings. Favorite themes: the spiritual life, simplicity, color, nature & its creatures and things fallen to the wayside.
Liilia Talts Morrison's Works:
'Tuesday, ' a long short story included in the collection 'Seven Days' published in UK by Legend Press.
Liilia Talts Morrison Poems
Bell Of Truth
The sound of truth rings like a bell with perfect pitch and timeless knell There are no jarring overtones
A woman friend the other day said someone left her stranded the person moved to other scenes the parting had been candid
Rainbows And Butterflies
In days of youthful heady daze I'd follow butterflies and run through dewy reeds and fields and hum sweet lullabies
Thoughts arise of home-baked bread Set on hearthen coals bright red Grain hulled on the threshing-floor Coarse hands forming loaves of yore
Blue Willow World
The sky is ever azure no cloud dare mar its view as shepherds gather flowers sweet maids to win and woo
Kind words are never wasted though falling on deaf ears somehow each word is treasured and can become more dear
The wounds of life can't be avoided in work, in play, or deep within none is immune to swords of battle no man, no woman and no child
Not A Few
I've been granted blessings not a few challenges to conquer and subdue
What do you see there far away, Horizon blue like you? A touch of purple haunts your gaze Enfolds your shoulders, too.
The spirit flies across the sea where songs of locusts blend with sounds of crystal waterfalls in liquid turquoise dreams
The Knife Of Life
I had a knife in childhood A villager had made It's handle gleamed with birch wood The sheath a darker shade.
In the forest they did gather Bark and moss in sunny weather; Later rested in the shade And forgot their daily trade.
The Hand Of Nature
When pressures of the day rise up And fill the hours with stress When every effort is too hard To strive for, too much pain
A Sure Blessing
There is a blessing When I help The homeless
Did you ever wear a cloak
Softer than a kitten’s chin
Creamy, milk rich, mild its yoke,
Cradling soft with languid stroke?
Folding, falling, touching ground,
Arms and shoulders blending in,
Couching, tender to surround
Floating o’er the snowy ground?