Marjorie DeBol DeFazio

Rookie (March 29,1933 / Detroit, Michigan)

Marjorie DeBol DeFazio Poems

1. The Sounds Of My House 1/1/2008
2. While I Wasn'T Looking 1/1/2008
3. It's February 1/1/2008
4. June Flood 1/1/2008
5. Flag 1/1/2008
6. Betty Friedan Died 1/1/2008
7. To A Fare-Thee-Well... 1/1/2008
8. 911 1/1/2008
9. Happy Fourth Of July! 1/1/2008
10. The Back River Road 1/1/2008
11. How Could I Not Live Here 1/1/2008
12. The Third Saturday In May 1/1/2008
13. The Awful Silence 1/1/2008
14. A Sunday Morning 1/1/2008
15. Into A New Season 1/1/2008
16. I Want To Know The River 1/1/2008
17. I Have Not Known War 1/1/2008
18. “suburbia: Of Thee I Sing”* 1/1/2008
19. My Son 1/1/2008
20. Privilege 1/1/2008
21. A Fierce And Wonderful Storm 1/1/2008
22. J-In The Woods This Spring 1/1/2008
23. My Friend 1/1/2008
24. J-A Sad Tale 1/1/2008
25. Friday Night 1/1/2008
26. January Saturday 1/1/2008
27. J-In The Timeless Time 1/19/2008
28. J-A Winter Afternoon 1/19/2008
29. World 1/19/2008
30. J-Not Yet Winter 1/19/2008
31. J-Love 1/19/2008
32. A Mouse Is A Nocturnal Creature 1/19/2008
33. J-Becalmed 1/19/2008
34. Birds 1/19/2008
35. Tearing, Tearing 1/19/2008
36. Driving Home 1/19/2008
37. J-Eight Days 1/19/2008
38. J-First Summer 1/19/2008
39. Fishing Time 1/19/2008
40. J-Future Shock 1/19/2008
Best Poem of Marjorie DeBol DeFazio

J-Love In Our Ages Love In Stages

In the first month
Love was tentative
Love was laughter
Love was ecstasy

In the second month
Love made questions
Love made laughter
Love made richness

In the third month
Love gave friendship
Love gave laughter
Love gave family

In the fourth month
Love became promise
Love became laughter
Love became spring

In the fifth month
Love grew flowers
Love grew laughter
Love grew deeper

June 2,1997

Read the full of J-Love In Our Ages Love In Stages

The Back River Road

Though the gypsy of my being has taken me over many roads
I would rather drive the back river road than any other
The high, high hills of trees, old barns still crowded at milking time
Glimpses of river when I round a bend or head down a hill,
Two peacocks, always gorgeous, whether one is perched on a barn roof
Or walking imperiously, at his own pace, to cross the road

On the south side of the road, midway between here and there a goat resides
Like the peacocks, the goat navigates to

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