Is It Christmas Again

No matter how hard I try thoughts of
Christmas leave me with a sad sigh
Why on that one day people promise
Peace and joy to the world and
On the very next day those feeling run cold
That wonderful spirit felt on that night
Is diminished and not shining bright
How can it be gone from one day to the next
That is why I feel always perplexed
When bells are ringing and choruses are singing
Gifts under the tree are supposed to bring joy
I remember a time when there was not even a toy
No cookies or candies no tree graced the room
Only for a few hours the bombing did not resume
In a dark room we huddled glad to be alive
It made me realize life can be strife
For me to have Christmas Spirit I need to know
Those feelings of love and peace can be stowed
Not only on Christmas but day after day
Hatred and killings cannot have their way

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poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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Soul Searching

Summertime and my heart is happy
Every bloom exudes a sweet perfume
Delicate creatures on feathered wings
Warble songs that fill the air
Butterflies without a care
Rays of sunlight filters through
The paths I take the one I knew
Let me walk in peace
Enjoy the simple things in life
And never strife to hold
What is not mine to keep
Then, when I go to the place I know
It will not count who I was or what I had
Only, was I bad?

poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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Voices in the Wind

Once honor ruled while necessity and obedience made it a common courtesy
Slowly like sand in an hourglass time flowed while life was lived
Death celebrated and memories stored
Tepid breezes emboldened by a perfect sun caressed the planet
Then like a thief in the night tempest dredged from the bowels of hell
Beseeched the planet and the voice in the wind was silenced
Turmoil ruled the planet and war became the glorified hero assessing his power over all living tribes
Under the yoke of dread the people labored the strong grew wicked and disagreeable
Not only life but nature turned her back upon such disrespect
Brazen disregard and poor judgment had altered the gift of the onetime perfect plan
Foul air and water, the oceans emptied of its bountiful creatures
Warfare became a daily pitch, greed, terror, bombs and death
Answered was only the trumpet's call for destruction
Heed the voice in the Wind for time is short to heal the wounds
In the end nothing will matter
When nourishment flows from your breast mother instill love, not hate, compassion not neglect
Neither Jew nor Arab, black or white, rich or poor has preference in the terrestrial realm
Most wonderful is the beauty of a morning meadow in the sunrise compared to barren rubble strewn over the land
It has been said before, how many years counted by the hundreds have to pass like sand through the hourglass
Before we all realize that all is nothing and nothing is all.

poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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It Once Was Mine

Once upon a time I thought eternity was mine
The days were long the nights a song
The mirror showed a flawless face
And trouble seemed a seldom case
The feet had wings and carried me
Up on the hills in ecstasy
My faith in mankind still intact
Most kindness shown was not an act
The years speed by and left their mark
The last chapter I now embark
The touch of a silky summer night breeze
Would make my heart feel at ease
Hearing a Mockingbird high up in a pine
Would assure me the day is mine
To the sound of music let me laugh and sing
May memories cling like precious dewdrops
Caught in a spider's web, little secrets forever kept.

poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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The Art of a Woman

In the valley of despair life starts at early dawn
Silver rivulets from last night's dew cover the grass
A red sunrise promises a day that will be warming
Slowly the women rise from under the covers on the ground
Which remain warm from their body's heat and vivid dreams
A longing for a day that promises a reward for living
Leaves them all breathing a heavy sigh
Bent backs, sad brows, hair streaked with gray
Performing routine tasks with expert timing
Slowly like sand in an hourglass time churns on
Month turn into years, and years into eternities
Only when the Master calls the receipt is paid in full
Left behind the empty shell of a onetime being
Who has fulfilled her task in the timeless annals of history

poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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Childhood Memories

Each hour that passed and every moment
Gone by become a memory
There will be sad ones but most happy and gay
Childhood memories like models of clay
Sunny days spent along the river edge
Resting in clumps of clover
Picking flowers to overfill
Endless hours spent on violet hill
A race to the very old tree
With a feeling of being so free
To dance around it's matronly base
Every one ready go let us chase
That elusive butterfly purple and blue
The world only belonged to me and you
A plunge in the river immersed in emerald green
In touch only with silence a silver sheen
Drifting down to pebbles and stalks
A world of pleasure beyond believe
It once was mine but not to keep

poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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The Day My Soul Flew Free

Undaunted by troublesome burdens
On a day when clouds darkened the sky
I unburdened my soul and let it fly
No earthly bondage was able to hold
My spirit was soaring and feeling bold

Behold all the beauty you're able to see
At the time of my travel the world was still free
Nor draught or destruction plagued the land
But a calm perfection catered by hand
God's unsoiled planet and all its land

Snow covered mountains and trees so tall
My heart felt like bursting taking in all
The rivers flowed flawless and unabashed
Silent forests and waterfalls splashed
Meadows and valleys in sunlight bathed

Upon my return my soul just wept
Seeing so many landmarks unkempt

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poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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