|Poetry by Alice Doray|
Writing addiction replaces my 'weeds,'
Pencil stub cigarettes fulfill the old needs,
To hold, to flick, to squash out self-doubt
for that's what my smoking was all about.
Now with pencil to lips, expelled thought array,
I flick words, not ashes, on a clean paper tray.
Habitual motions, not dispelled overnight,
Have reprogrammed to this writer's de-light!
Call of the Trees
How do I welcome Spring, you ask,
What do I feel and see?
A warm sun's rays under which to bask,
Scented blossoms on an apple tree.
Bare branches stark from Winter's chill
Awake now adorned in leaves.
Resurrection of life: God's infinite will,
Calls out to me from the trees.
How often we write, "No words can express..."
When appreciation and thanks are sought.
Gratitude is too often suppressed
By our lack to describe a thought.
How blessed is the person who can well impart
Proper thanks and appreciation due.
To convey the fullness of ones heart
With a clever and classic, "Thank you."
All the short stories and poetry on this site are written by Alice Doray and are owned and copyright owned by the family of Alice Doray. "Maple Awake" is owned and copyright owned by the family of Alice Doray. This web site is owned by John Doray and all the material on this sight is used with permission of the family of Alice Doray. Anyone caught reproducing and/or copying or reusing any of the writings or drawings on these pages, in full or in part, without written consent of the family of Alice Doray will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. It is a federal offense to illegally copy or reproduce copyrighted material.