by Ilene Leslie Skeen
Glancing at the page below
I wonder what you’ll come to know,
As if my thinking went astray
And I scarce know what I will say.
But listen well and harken this,
A special poem deserves a kiss.
So if there’s a young miss you know,
Take this special poem and go.
But if a kiss will not suffice,
Get some coarser merchandise.
Flowers, candies, clothes or books
Will win your precious lady’s looks.
But I would say to stay at home,
If callous lass cares not for poem.
Ilene Skeen ©1967
The New Year ought not come, but be attained
by only those who celebrate a time well spent.
December’s final days are mounting steps
to reach that peak of midnight, head unbent —
To stand upon that yearly peak of time —
look back without regret, look forward without fear;
To stand as in salute to one year’s pride and
one year’s promise; pledge to both a solemn cheer;
To hold unbridled future, as a white mare to be caught
and tamed, and molded to man’s will;
To hold one goal; reach out, and finding it too far,
to walk toward it; to walk and say — I will;
To gain that goal; to say — I have — and set
another goal — to check the score next New Year’s eve.
I wrote this toast for the New Year of 1968,
50 years ago. At each year-end, I repeat it,
enjoying it anew.