| By: Edna Mae Cilwa | Viewed: 4/24/2024 |
Page Views: 4271 | |
| Topics: #Poetry | |||
| Some of Mom's poetry. | |||
Mom's artistic expression took the form of poetry.
She was published in her local newspaper and in at least one book. Here are a few of her best.
A Weary Vessel
| By: Paul S. Cilwa | Posted: 11/13/2007 |
Page Views: 6660 | |
| Topics: #Humor #Poetry #EdnaMaeBrown #EdnaMaeCilwa | |||
| A few of my Mom's poems. | |||
A few months ago, my sister Louise sent me a box of my mother's things, things Mom had saved for decades. Some things are merely of interest like the hand-written receipt for our property in Vermont, while others are real heart-tuggers, like the hand-drawn birthday and Mother's Day cards I had given her and which she had carted around the country since my childhood. Among the treasures I've found—and I have not yet made it all the way through the box!—are a few of her poems, including some I'd never before read. Louise was considerate enough to type them up from Mom's faded and old-fashioned cursive.
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Lincoln
| By: Edna Mae Cilwa | Page Views: 4160 | ||
| Topics: #Lincoln #slavery #emancipationproclamation | |||
| Poem by Edna Mae Cilwa. | |||
Lincoln, freer of the slaves, Standing sadly o'er the graves Of all the boys—the Blue, the Grey— Praying there would come a day When all this would have passed away, Beseeching Him Who saves.
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Pa And The Camera
| By: Edna Mae Cilwa | Page Views: 4490 | ||
| Topics: #Humor #Poetry #EdnaMaeCilwa | |||
| Humorous poem by Edna Mae Cilwa. | |||
Pa, he got the camera, then He looked up where the sun had been And called up out to our front yard (Where other times, we'd all been barred) And said he thought he oughtta take A picture there (though just a fake) To send to Uncle Louis Gus Who'd sent the camera once to us.
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Requiem For A Leech
| By: Edna Mae Cilwa | Page Views: 4015 | ||
| Topics: #leech #medicine #SpanishHospital | |||
| A humorous poem by Edna Mae Cilwa. | |||
No, this poem isn't about a lawyer. In 1970, Mom worked as a guide at the Spanish Hospital in St. Augustine, Florida, a restored building that had once been a hospital for Spanish soldiers and settlers. On display there was a large glass jar containing a bunch of leeches. From that, came this poem.
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