ECHO

Throw a stone in a crystal lake,
Watch the ripples as they break.
Call the name of your "long lost love",
Feel the raindrops from above.

Drop to your knees under a tree,
Pray for life, as you want it to be.
Run in the meadow of new mown hay,
Watch the cows along the way.

Study a piece of old gray wood,
Read the inside, and see if it's good.
Walk down the lane in shorts and bare feet.
Stop at the spring for a refreshing drink.

Go back, and look at your old school pics,
Even better, a diary, and study your tricks.
If a life of solace is what you seek,
Think of the shut-in, down the street,

Just; as the echoes off canyon walls,
Those things, now done, will ever enthrall.
Prepare, by being your best, and don’t sway,
Our actions, are noticed, by some one, 
Each day!!!


ETERNITY'S  QUILT

They say the world can never be,
As, simple, as it was, for me.
I say to them, "how blessed I am,
To know the gentle hand of man."
I see, as every time I go
Into my mind, and memories flow.
My heart is sad as I recall,
What was for me, and not for all.
Many with pain and horror filled,
No peace in youth, or love instilled.
The ones' abused in many forms;
Actions, which will be thought upon
By "One" of higher power!
"Touch not these innocents' of mine,"
With thunder in that final hour,
As, judgment calls to those with guilt.
Dismay, regret and blood is spilt,
While stitching on "Eternity’s Quilt."
To those, who've spent this time awry
Will find their chances passing by,
As dark and ugly comes to greet~
Those who aren't at Jesus feet!!


GONE FISHING

The sun streams in between the trees,
As sleep filled eyes, strain to see,
The start, of God's new day!

I stretch and yawn-
Dad, up at dawn,
Had gone to find the fish.

I heard the little motor start,
The cord released, he's learned the art.

Our boat was red, and in reverse,
Slowly, gently, he'd coerce.

It made it's way into the deep,
Slowly, silently; so we could sleep.

He paced the distance from the shore;
Within his ears, he heard the roar
Of throttle full ahead, with speed,
Around the bend, our cove, he'd leave.

He jumped the waves of other boaters,
Found his spot, and fished with floaters.

The water was shallow and fish were careful,
But, Dad, he knew, what they would go for~
Brought out his flies, his gifts to offer.

By the time of his return,
The breakfast cooked, the butter churned,
His offering in his hands!!

Oh, those days, with life much saner,
Should give us heed, to make ours' plainer.

We rush and charge to this and that~
To make more money; fill bigger hats.

In our search for fame and riches,
Busting buttons, and our britches,
We miss the boat on what is real~~

My Dad's gone fishing,
And peace, I feel...


AND I FEEL IT APPROPRIATE TO CRY!

My heart was splintered,
When first I heard;
Of deeds so dastardly forced!!
Children, whose screams,
Heard only within~~
Innocence gone~~
Worth trampled upon,
An existence of fear was endorsed.
Their minds had retreated
To their safe places;
Enabling young lives to go on.
While under the surface,
Life had no purpose,
But, hiding the sin 
Which was done!!
As now, hearts unfold,
With chronicled tales,
Of anger, of grief, and of pain.
Taken away, the simplicity of play
For wee ones in days' disarrayed.
No life of laughter; or happy ever after!!
And I feel it appropriate to cry!!


DESPAIR

Wretched, clawing and tearing my heart,
Despondent clouds with misty dark.

Never knowing where I stand,
Staircase, with banister
Scaled to grand.

Ever looking, watching, screaming~~
Not redemption, but, more scheming.

Where, I wonder, is the morning?
Bleeding, scratching ~ wanting dawning.

Pull me from this pit of fire~
Quench within my foul desire!

All who know me, shun my entrance;
Keep my cunning at a distance!

Is there hope for something higher?
Where to go... can I aspire?


HAZARDOUS JOURNEY

Within the tiny, rippling brook,
A little girl's reflection shook.

Waters still, she sees her smile.
When all is smooth ~~ reflection's wide,
Below the stream augments it's size,
Removing now, what once was sure;
Becoming stirred, tormented lies.

Storms of life, rise up to greet,
To lead, coerce, while incomplete.

To take from journey's narrow path
To wide, perverted, misty streets!

She breathes, she glances, hesitates,
And, in the perilous time of gloom,
She sets her feet, and seals her doom!!

My name is Shirley Ruksznis Young. I was born on September 15, 1945, in Dover-Foxcroft, Maine, USA. My grandfather, Petras Rukšnis (Peter Joe Ruksznis), arrived to America from the Kaunas region of Lithuania, in March of 1908. He was brought over here by his aunt, Anna Ruksnaites, who was brought over, by her husband Anton Frank Lankas (Lankist). Peter then brought over his brother Frank, followed by their father Franz. World War One broke out and the rest of the family, except for one brother, came in 1922. My grandfather Peter bought a farm in Guilford, Maine, in 1913, that is still in the family. Peter married Florence Irene Beane in 1913. They had 5 sons and one daughter. The second son, Wilbur Urban Ruksznis, is my father. I was raised and educated in Dover-Foxcroft, Maine. I attended the Northern Conservatory of Music in Bangor, Maine. I have spent my life teaching, both private and public schools. I have been a choral director since 1967. I was married in 1964 to Roger H. Young, and we have four children and six grand children. I spend most of my time with family, and writing poetry. Also, much time is spent on genealogy. My poems have been published in books, magazines and on poetry websites. Including, my own: http://groups.msn.com/poetstation I have a dream to one day return to the little Kidulių village in Lithuania, where it began… I hope that you enjoy my work.