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My Histori Page/Personal Writings by Beth Coulter

"Insomnia"
A poem about the evil curse of sleeplessness

The Fairies Revenge

The Cloud Fairy

Was miffed at the nymph,

So was the unicorn too.

The Mermaids couldn't spend the time

To listen to the constant rue.

The nymph would sigh

The nymph would cry,

But all would come to naught.

For all anyone could ever see

Was the trouble the nymph bought.

"Now listen here" said the King of Elves.

"Hie to me now girl.

I see your troubles twice as clear

Than your head set in a whirl."

"You're lacking a secret secret

That would make your life so grand.

Something you must remember

When you make your stand."

"Always speak from the heart,

Cured with honesty,

And make them see they can't step on you,

There's more than what they see."

"So when the times are getting tough,

And no one calls you Dear,

Just remember one small mantra

And nothing will you fear."

"This is what to say, my dear,

And speak it from the heart

And once you start believing it,

The truth will never part."

So the nymph listened well,

And memorized each line.

And said them nicely to the crowd,

When Finally came her time.

With a smile wide and honest

Within her heart she carried,

"I'm ok when everything's not ok,

Cause it's the Fairies Revenge they Say,

And I have always been a Fairy."

She left the congregation

of the mythical folks of lore

Smiling at their confusion,

Wishing she'd had caused more.

Sometimes we don't fit into the molds

Given us by others,

But so long as we remember our souls

We but only attract true lovers.

So here I am a wondering,

Am I really quite ok?

But since I'm still here writing,

It must be what they say.

I'm ok when everything's not ok

Cause it's the Fairies Revenge they say,

And I have always been a fairy.

*At least I was yesterday*

CHAMPION

Life goes on and on and on

An endless circle spinning

But I've found the place I belong

Now, At Last, I'm Winning

I've found my independence

My shelter from the storm

There is no need to cry out loud

No need to conform

So Life, just keep going

And Circle go round and round

Do your best to conquor me

You Can't-

It's Me I've Found!

bc (c)

Seasons

There is beauty in the dying

In the leaves upon the trees

In Autumn's Gold and Scarlet

There's a beauty one can see

There is beauty in the death

Of Winter's Nor'east chill

The crystal quiet clusters

Lying soft upon the hill

There is beauty in the growing

In Springtime's yellow-green

The trees are strong and slender

Against the April winds they lean

There is beauty in the living

In Summers shining gold

And this is what I love best-

The Sun as I grow old

bc(c)

~The Canvas~

Here I go again,

spouting out different words

all of which explain

exactly
one
single
emotion

Yet I wish to dip my brush into the palette and recreate my words with different colors, Obscure strokes with odd sized brushes,

"How can you paint what is so delicate with that wide house painters brush?"

They ask as I pause before my colors.

My palette contains many shades that I can mix and blend to the appropriate hue.

I care not for the size of the strokes I take, I care not for the individual impressions of my literary works of art.

You see, I am not here to tell you your thoughts,

only to relate mine own.

Yet you hold the brush I have been wanting, and the paint you hold in your hands is exactly the shade I'm missing.

Why do you think you have a right to dip your brush into my palette? Is it only you are trying to teach, Instead of trying to steal?

Ah, and the last stroke is accomplished, The painting seems complete, except for that little void,

where you stole my soul.

And yet, within your own painting, I see a little of myself, and instead of begrudging you my work, I thank you for the notice.

Artists are we all, Expanding space and time, with words, music, and art, What we create is simply sublime

You, my constant stranger, daring me through the night,

Hold my canvas gently And just hold me real tight

bc(c)98
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