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Best Poems Written by Marycile Beer

Below are the all-time best Marycile Beer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Winds of Time

One day I was passing time
And wrote these words upon the lines,
I know not where they came you see
The Winds of Time were there for me.

If I could open a door to the past
And there before me were the paths
I'm not quite sure which I would choose
But The Winds of Time would see me through.

The vastness there before God's Hand
Then came the heavens, the seas, the land
Eden, Noah and the Christ Child's birth
Is the path that I see first.

I'm not into Knights or dragon days,
Nor Robin Hood and his saving ways,
But give me a Viking as he crosses the seas
And I'll dream of the lands so wild and free.

The music of Irland calls to me,
Where Kathleen's heart has ever been,
And for Danny Boy the fifes do call
I'll shed my tears lest he should fall.

As Immigrants touched upon our shores
The Indians prepared to fight once more,
But fate stepped in and eased the sore
They'd live in peace forever more.

The  battles fought upon this land
To protect us from Tierney's hand,
The Civil War for Freedom's right
The Alamo where comrades died.

At Little Big Horn where our soldiers died,
As Indians defend their homes with pride,
The government later took a hand
And put them on Reservation land. 

I remember well, when I was quite young
The days of World War II
And how my father's life did change
When the family business he assumed.

Twenty-four seven was unheard of then,
But that was their working day,
They helped keep our nations trucks on the road
Their battlefield was here in the USA.

I'll choose the path with pastures green,
Horses, cattle and the cowboy scene,
This is the land of my mother's birth
The most precious land to me on earth.

I chose this land and took a stand,
Married a cowboy and we ranched the land.
Though now retired and family gone
This land will always be our home.

The Winds of Time, know well my soul
I'll rest at night with days of yore.
And as I wake a prayer I'll say
Please God, may we have Peace today?

                       Cile Beer

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I Wasn'T There For You

I gaze at you upon the cross
And know deep down in my heart
I was responsible
For the plight that You went through

All though it happened long ago 
I wasn't even born
You took it upon Yourself
To save me from the scorn

I know I haven't always 
Made the right decisions
And those that I did make 
I did so with good intentions

It was Your laws that I did break
Those called the Ten Commandments
And You hang there upon the cross
For my indiscretions

And now today centuries later
You're still there for me to view
And all the memories come flooding back
I wasn't there for You

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My Thanks To You

MY THANKS TO YOU

The Clouds
The Dells
The Fields
The Streams
The Valleys
The Wildflowers
The Seas
The Dreams
The Meadows
And the Sun rise too
Our Families
Our Friends 
Are all Gifts 
From You
But the Gift of Love
You sent to Us
Upon that Christmas Morn
Was the Greatest of Gifts
We could Recieve

Once more I Thank You God

Cile Beer

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The Tornado

I watch the storm clouds gathering,
I hear the siren scream,
Is this really happening,
Or is it just a dream?

Hurry, run for shelter,
But which way will it go?
My heart is beating wildly,
Now the wind begins to blow.

The sun above me glistens,
This can't be what it seems,
How can a tornado___________?
Again the siren screams.

I stand here as if rooted,
The monster I then spy,
Whirling, jumping, weaving,
Across the western sky.

A car's been absorbed,
Is someone inside?
A tree with roots dancing,
Looks like my wind chime.

Run, run crazy woman
You can't just stand here,
Hurry, run for shelter,
It's drawing quite near.

I tried, or so I thought,
But I didn't move,
It dipped and it danced,
Gouging it's own groove.

"Oh God," I cried,
"Please don't let this be."
And watched as a cow
Was swept off her feet.

First she was there,
And then she was gone.
It was just like a peek-a-boo,
Game going on.

Around and around,
Like a merry-go-round,
Swaying to and fro
As it crosses the ground.

"What was that I screamed",
Gasping for air, 
As the wind whirled around me,
I just stood and stared.

How can this be happening
To my little world?
"Oh God, please protect him
He's just a small squirrel."

With tears in my eyes
I drop to my knees
As the house on the corner,
Flew over the trees.

The tornado was gone!
Where did it go?
And how did it miss me
I'd like to know.

I knelt there and cried 
At what I had seen.
Then the alarm clock went off,
It had just been a dream.

And what did I learn?
As I tried to breathe.
When that siren screams,
It's the basement for me.

                  Cile Beer

writter 2005

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My Guardian Angel

As I was on an errand today
I had nothing on my mind
Until I saw the carcass of an unfortunate deer
And noticed the scavengers quite near

I felt in pain
His loss their gain

I remembered something 
I was told quite young
When someone dies
A baby is born.

Then I began to think
Whose place was it I did take

Was it a man? 
Was it a woman?
Was he or she young?
Or was he or she old?

I seriously felt
It was a man
It is he who is my Guardian Angel
And I wanted to reach out and take his hand

Was he a country or a city man?
Was he born in the 1800’s or the 1900’s I asked
Was he from this country or a foreign shore?
Oh the questions there are so many more

Was he in the war?
Was he safe from harm?
Or was he hurt
And lost an arm?

Did he marry?
And were there children, I asked
How many grandchildren were there
Who sat on his lap?

You are so near
Yet so far
Now that I question 
Who you are

How many times did I disappoint him
Through out my time on earth
Did he like my singing?
Or did his ears I hurt?

Was his hand on mine as I painted 
The mountains the skys and the seas
Or on the steering wheel when my attention was lax
Was he there to help save me

Did he help with my tests in school
In order to ensure my future goal
Did he approve of my choice
As I chose a school on the Nebraska soil

I know he was there when I was wed
And he approved of the life we led
Maybe he even beamed
As our four children came upon the scene.

He is here to help me see 
The wonders God has made
And prepare myself for the final day
When I approach the Golden Gate

Maybe it is then I will know
Who died so I could be born 
I’ll thank him for he did his best
Then ask God to give him, eternal rest.

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Ghosts of South Dakota Part 4

Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa 
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the 
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep.  Even the hot chocolate did not do 
much to help sedate the excitement.
	We were hoping for sleds that year.  The snow was perfect for 
sledding especially like we did it.  We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up 
and were pulled through the hills.  We got our sleds.  My dad and my uncle made 
them for us.
	No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the 
radio.  Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use.  We spent many hours 
playing cards or games.
	I took time out and went to high school and college and got my 
teaching certificate.
	My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government 
turned the schools over to the local government.
	The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and 
Indian families were living in them.  The school was dirty and unkept.
	Now the school is gone.  The ancestors who once walked these 
dusty plains are gone.  The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
	They are Ghosts.  Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.  
Ghosts  who still chop wood on those sub zero nights.  And the drums we heard 
in the middle of the nights are still beating.  They beat as strongly as the heart 
beats in a healthy body.  The laughter of the children still echoes under the 
bridge.
	The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin.  The Battle of 
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought  between the white man and the 
Indian on the northern plains.  It's cries still echo across the land.
	My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left 
in the dust.  But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven 
still lives.  And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.

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Ghosts of South Dakota Intro

In 1957 I took my teaching certificate back to the land of my mother.  
She was raised on a cattle ranch in the north central area of Nebraska.  The 
famous Sand Hills.  It was there I found my cowboy and we ranched for fourteen 
years on the eastern edge of the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota.  The 
teacher in this story is my mother's sister and our experiences at the Indian 
Government School of Spring Creek during my early years.
	In the year 2002 Cowboy and I moved to a very special town, Harper, 
Kansas.  This town is just a few miles down the road from the memories of my 
Kansas childhood. How lucky to be able to have all of these memories and with 
the help of God maybe another dozen or so years down the road I'll have another 
set of memories to pass on to another generation.   

                                                       GHOSTS

	Yesterday I was sitting at my computer working  when I looked out of 
my magic window 
and noticed the swing set.  The wind was fiercely blowing up a gale and the 
swings were rocking to and fro.  That didn't bother me, but when I saw the glider 
was in motion, I didn't even have to close my eyes to picture the children playing 
on it.  They weren't my grandchildren.  They weren't my children.  They weren't any 
children I could recognize, but I felt blessed.  I didn't care who they were, they 
were happy.
	And then I thought back.  Back to the reservation.  I could hear the 
laughter of the Indian children, but whenever we came into view they would run to 
hide behind their mothers or grandmothers and peek around at us.  Some of the 
older ones, seven, eight, nine or ten year olds would line up in front of the shack 
or tent to stare at us.
	I can still see them dressed in faded, wrinkled, soiled clothing.  
Disgards from who knows where that ended up at the mission.  Their large 
round brown eyes staring from behind the greasy scraggly black hair. Some with 
their dirty fingers stuffed in their mouths. The little ones clinging desperately to 
the skirt as they peered around at us,  always had snout trailing from their nose, 
and their feet were either bare or encased in shoes three sizes to large for them.
	I don't know if it was a tradition of some kind but it seems, in my 
memory, there were never any men.  Only women and children came forth.  I 
have my ideas where the men were but I shall not go into that here.

Details | Marycile Beer Poem

But For You

But For You

You tagged me 
And said such nice things
I’m at a loss for words
Perhaps I need to call for help 
Won’t you help me choose
Joseph S., Carol B., Tami M., Stella S.,
Mike J., Vince S., Stacy R., Lainie G.
Maggie O., Lynn M .and Michaela P.
Who, oh who should it be?

I know! I know the perfect selection
Won’t you all join with me,
I introduce to you my Friends
Our very own ' Poetrysoup Origination.'
For without them we might never have met.
So while they take the stage
Let’s all give them a hand, and say 
“Our thanks to you and God Bless.”

                                          Cile Beer

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On the Wings of a Dragonfly

I walked down the hospital corridor
And a dragonfly I see
Staring through the window pane
Looking just for me.

My mind immediately took wings
And soared above the clouds
I looked upon the city huge
Where I was once a child.

Then the wind beneath his wings
Transported me far north
To the Nebraska Sand Hills
And the school I once taught.

Here a Cowboy riding tall
Caught my eye you see
Then I knew with all my heart
This land my home would be.

I drifted farther north again
To Dakota land,
Where we ranched and raised the kids
Our dreams to soon would end.

Back to Kansas we did go
A living was our goal.
For twenty years you worked so hard
Your health did pay the toll.

I traveled upward one last time
Our old place I see
Beneath me lies your garden site
With nothing left but weeds.

I soar over our new home
Your flowers and veggies bloom,
I picked your pretty coral rose
And brought it to your room.

The dragonfly blinked his eyes at me
His message I'd misread,
He wasn't here for me at all
But for my Cowboy, instead.

I need to thank my daughter-in-law Darcee for her help.
Cile and Darcee Beer

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Flowers

Blue Bells, ring their songs of praise,
Golden Rods, give brilliant rays,
Daisies, dancing all in fun,
Asters, bowing in the sun,
Poppies, tossing laughing heads,
While Johnny Jumps up from his bed.

                            Cile Beer

written l955