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My Virtual Garden

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Come in and enjoy my garden. I wanted a place to share the wonderful works of art that I love and a place to show off my poetry. So if you have some works of art to share with me please send a link to your page or email me. So I can check it out. Who knows I may add you to my page. Thanks

My Poetry

Silence of the Purple Moors

Beyond the purple moors lies a watery grave, under a moonlit night.

Carrying away with it his lost, los... love.

Howling winds were carried throughout the purple moors.

The most sombering sound I had ever heard, it was as if someone were crying.

There he had seen his beloved brides' body crumpled on top of the sharp rocks at the bottom of the brook.

Water lilies floated about her watching as her life ebbed out on to the treacherous rocks and flowed into the stream of the watery grave.

Within the purple moors I heard a wise owl, that heard the last words the bridegroom uttered quietly into the moolit night.

" No more pain my dearest love. No more pain, shall we feel."

And then the purple moors were silent once again, except for the brook that flowed on through the night.

By ~ Gabrielle Branscom ~

Come Alive

Violins playing sweetly flowing in the winds.

A flute following in it's path

I hear the drums alive and following in their wake.

Dancers bright skirts swish

As their scarves float in the breeze

This is what it's like to be alive.

The earth awakens with every step

the moon and stars shine brighter

with every beat of the drum

and every swaying body.

This is what it's like to be alive

Can you feel it in your blood

can your spirit feel the music.

Let yourself open up to all that is there

The earth has much to share with you

It has many untold stories and secrets.

Let it fill up your senses

and come alive to all that is there.

By ~ Gabrielle Branscom ~

Works of Art

Flight Of The Dandelion

Look, mother, I'm flying I was picked up by that breeze He flew me over the palace yard And over the royal trees

We went slowly over the lake And near the playground slide When I heard the children scream I wanted to go and hide

But the breeze held onto me An carried me by the church He took me very close To where the pigeons perch

I really enjoyed this flight I can see so much below I hope the breeze hangs on to me And doesn't let me go

I can always float back down to earth And find a landing place I don't require a lot of soil And I don't need lots of space

I'm happy almost any place It's my flower that people heed I try to be a helpful plant But people call me a weed.

Zephyr's Love Affair

The breeze has fringes called zephyrs Sometme a bit errant from the parent They'll go the way they wish to go Leaving home seems to be inherent This small zephyr found a downy feather And scooped it off a leaf Dragging it to other places Like a common ordinary thief

"I'll keep you here with me So everyone can see Where I am and where I go. And we can dance to and fro"

The feather enjoyed the flight Seeing things from the greatest height Its normal task would be floating down But the zephyr flew it over town

Over the top of the village steeple Over the heads of all the people Over the tops of all the trees Finally caught up with the parent breeze

by Sean Mc Kelvy The Poet Of Alamo

When fairies meet on a moonlit night, They find a spot that's out of sight Making circles and chanting their song They always bring their stools around

I can see in the morning where they met Even tell where each fairy set I'm sure you've seen that little ring Where they met with songs to sing

In the meadow or out on the lawn They usually leave them there at dawn I like to play a little game And give each one a fairy name.

August the King sits on the right They all stay till he takes flight Opposite him is the fairy Queen I like to call her Fae Maureen

They fly together on a moonligt beam Sing and dance like a lovely dream Those little instruments the fairies play Will cause the pair to swing and sway

When the sun comes up, they always leave And hide in places, you wouldn't believe Even if you look real hard You'll never find them in the yard.

by Sean Mc Kelvy The Poet Of Alamo