Tag Archive | poems

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

– Robert Frost

More because I’m campsick

You may think my dear, when you grow quite old,
You have left camp days behind.
But I know the scent of wood smoke
Will always call to mind
Little fires at twilight
And the trails you used to find.

You may think some day you have quite grown up.
And feel so worldly and wise
But suddenly out of the past a vision will arise
Of merrie folk with brown bare knees
And laughter in their eyes.

You may live in a house built to your taste
In the nicest part of town
But some day for your old camp togs
You’d change your latest gown
And trade them all for a balsam bed
Where the stars at night look down.

You may find yourself grown quite wealthy
Have all that gold can buy
But you’d toss aside a fortune
For days neath an open sky
With sunlight in blue water
And white clouds sailing high

For once you have been a camper
Then something has come to stay
Deep in your heart forever
Which nothing can take away
And heaven can only be heaven
With a camp in which to play.


T’was the Night Before Beltane

This is what happens when the system goes down at work. Never let a pagan’s brain roam.


T’was the night before Beltane

And all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Well, Brownies chasing a mouse.

The Maypole was hung in the garden

With care

In hopes that the coven soon would be there.

The people were nestled all snug in their tents

Some of them dreaming of bonfires immense

And I in my sleep shirt and she in much less

And just settled in to state of undress.

When out on the lawn arose such a clatter

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the doorway I flew like a fool

And promptly tripped over her mules.

The moon rose high over lawns green and dim

Gave luster to a man who was definitely not slim

Surrounded by Maenads it now did appear

That Beltane was going to be wilder this year.

With a great bowl of wine and a keg by his side

I knew that Sir Bacchus had now just arrived.

“To the Maypole, to the Maypole”, he cried

And I hoped that the cheeses and meat would survive.

The Maenads were dancing and making us dizzy

And I knew that the Priestesses would throw such a tizzy

They were being upstaged by the Maenads crazed dance

That only Radical Fairies even stood half a chance.

I feared for the children’s well dressing to last

The Maenads were sweeping along in the paths

The Maypole was leaning a bit to the south

While I just stood gaping with wide open mouth

He was dressed all in leaves, from head to his toe

With grape vines entwined thoughout, don cha know.

A keg on two legs was found at his heels

I could see that he hardly ever missed a few meals.

His face was so red and shined with a glow

The wreath on his head was tipping just so

He smiled with a smile just full of great glee

He was going to be our most favourite party crashee

He gathered us round and started the dance

We all then joined in for such a fine prance.

Morning came when the sun started to rise

He waved us goodbye from over the rise

“Drink plenty of wine!” He gave us his warning

“Happy Beltane to all and to all a great morning”.

By ElfKat ©2012

Poetry month – Celibacy

Because of I’m being lazy again and because of something someone said to me about relationships on Saturday, I give you a song I wrote in 1984.  And no, I don’t feel like this at the moment and once when I sang it in concert at the Western States Gay and Lesbians United, I ended up in a 2 year relationship I had a really hard time escaping from. It was just something funny to me at the time. I did get a standing ovation though. :-)

Celibacy, Celibacy,
Overrated Lunacy,
Celibacy, Celibacy,
Unwedded bliss is not for me.

Bars are not the place for me
I develop paralysis of mouth and knee
Yes, it’s possible to die of hesitancy
I guess the woman in my life is me.

Celibacy, Celibacy,
Just ain’t what it’s cracked up to be
Celibacy, Celibacy,
Maybe I need some vitamin E

In my brain there must be a vacancy
Was a nun what I was really meant to be?
But certain kinds of women really frighten me
Especially women built like Mr. “T”

Celibacy, Celibacy,
Complicated idiocy
Celibacy, Celibacy,
As opposed to plurality

I know this is not feminist liturgy
Or something covered with great militancy
But I’m getting tired of being correct politically
If the only woman in my life is me.

Celibacy, Celibacy,
Result of total abstinency
Celibacy, Celibacy,
Let’s hear it for cupidity

Now celibacy is fine for recovery
And independence was a great discovery
Am I depriving myself of intimacy?
If the only woman in my life is me?

Celibacy, Celibacy,
Wrecking with my destiny
Celibacy, Celibacy,
Acts of utter obstinancy

So this is a personal ad for me
I like music of the Scots and I hate TV
I like swinging in the park and mountains not the sea
But I don’t expect and answer…
Because the greatest chicken in my life, is me,

Celibacy, Celibacy,
The result of sheer complacency
Celibacy, Celibacy,
Will surely Be the end of me!

Mary Beth Robb copyright 1984

Bonus Poetry Month – Celebrate Earth Day, Every day!

Earth Day, Every Day (celebrate) Lyrics

“Earth Day, Every Day (celebrate)” was written by John Denver.

The cry of a loon on a lake in the night
Dreams that are born in the dawn’s early light
Celebrate morning.

Celebrate living,
The laughter that sings in the heart of a child,
Freedom that flies to the call of the wild,
Celebrate living.

Celebrate evening,
The stars that appear in the loss of the sun,
Whispering winds, ‘We are one, we are one’…

Celebrate Earth Day, every day,
Celebrate Earth Day, every day
Celebrate land and sea
Celebrate you and me
Celebrate Earth Day, every day


Read more: John Denver –

Poetry month – nursery rhyme

This was stuck in my head last night when I was trying to sleep:

I had a little nut tree,
Nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg
And a golden pear;

The King of Spain’s daughter
Came to visit me,
And all for the sake
Of my little nut tree.

Her dress was made of crimson,
Jet black was her hair,
She asked me for my nutmeg
And my golden pear.

I said, “So fair a princess
Never did I see,
I’ll give you all the fruit
From my little nut tree.”[