80 feet of Morning Glories...
Showing posts with label morning glories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morning glories. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 16, 2025
80 feet of morning glories... #morningglories #creation #beauty #God
Thursday, October 31, 2024
coiled trumpets – v2
wearing
their royal regalia,
vibrant colors of their clan,
holding to the fence behind them
buglers ready for battle,
their banners held high…
resting, ready at the ramparts,
heeding the battle cry.
coiled
trumpets, at the ready,
their lips on the mouthpiece,
ready to blow, the battle cry,
strong and steady the archers,
horseback riders lined up row on row,
all of them heed the drummers,
for the buglers, their battle cry…
====
Edited October 31, 2024
coiled trumpets – v2
Written
and posted October 4, 2024
coiled trumpets
typed October 15, 2024
https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2024/10/coiled-trumpets.html
&
edited November 5, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2014/11/an-echo-of-her-glories-v2.html
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2008/08/echo-of-her-glories.html
morning glories by the church
Suncook United Methodist Church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
All of my poems, photographs, and
videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004,
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017,
2018, 2019, 2020, 202 2022, 2023, and 2024. All rights are reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 53,000+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Christ,
Communion, creator, cup, daughter, Faith, Family, flowers, fruit, garden, God,
hands, Jessie Foss, love, memories, morning glories, mother, Nature, sharing,
#Christ
#Communion #creator #cup #daughter #Faith #Family #flowers #fruit #garden #God
#hands #love #memories #morningglories #mother #Nature #sharing
vibrant colors of their clan,
holding to the fence behind them
buglers ready for battle,
their banners held high…
resting, ready at the ramparts,
heeding the battle cry.
their lips on the mouthpiece,
ready to blow, the battle cry,
strong and steady the archers,
horseback riders lined up row on row,
all of them heed the drummers,
for the buglers, their battle cry…
Edited October 31, 2024
coiled trumpets – v2
coiled trumpets
typed October 15, 2024
https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2024/10/coiled-trumpets.html
&
edited November 5, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2014/11/an-echo-of-her-glories-v2.html
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2008/08/echo-of-her-glories.html
morning glories by the church
Suncook United Methodist Church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
Thursday, October 24, 2024
coiled trumpets
holding
to the fence behind them
buglers ready for battle,
their banners held high,
resting, ready at the ramparts,
heeding the battle cry.
coiled trumpets, at the ready,
ready to blow, the battle cry,
strong and steady the archers,
those on horseback, lined up row on row,
all of them heed the drummers,
for the bugles, their battle cry…
====
Written and posted October 4, 2024
coiled trumpets
typed October 15, 2024
&
edited November 5, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2014/11/an-echo-of-her-glories-v2.html
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2008/08/echo-of-her-glories.html
morning glories by the church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 202 2022, 2023, and 2024. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 53,000+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Christ, Communion, creator, cup, daughter, Faith, Family, flowers, fruit, garden, God, hands, Jessie Foss, love, memories, morning glories, mother, Nature, sharing,
#Christ #Communion #creator #cup #daughter #Faith #Family #flowers #fruit #garden #God #hands #love #memories #morningglories #mother #Nature #sharing
buglers ready for battle,
their banners held high,
resting, ready at the ramparts,
heeding the battle cry.
coiled trumpets, at the ready,
ready to blow, the battle cry,
strong and steady the archers,
those on horseback, lined up row on row,
all of them heed the drummers,
for the bugles, their battle cry…
Written and posted October 4, 2024
coiled trumpets
typed October 15, 2024
edited November 5, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2014/11/an-echo-of-her-glories-v2.html
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2008/08/echo-of-her-glories.html
morning glories by the church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
All of my poems, photographs, and videos are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 202 2022, 2023, and 2024. All rights are reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for usage. See all 53,000+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Christ, Communion, creator, cup, daughter, Faith, Family, flowers, fruit, garden, God, hands, Jessie Foss, love, memories, morning glories, mother, Nature, sharing,
#Christ #Communion #creator #cup #daughter #Faith #Family #flowers #fruit #garden #God #hands #love #memories #morningglories #mother #Nature #sharing
Suncook
United Methodist Church
Friday, October 04, 2024
Coiled #trumpets, ready to blow
Coiled #trumpets, ready to blow... #beauty #nature #garden #morningglories #poetry
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
A pale, lovely, opening trumpet
a morning glory, in the pot, growing,
living with the tomatoes, the marigolds
the living garden by the end of the parking lot
not noticed by too many, by her loving hand
An echo of her glories, the same color, the same beauty
growing in a row behind her house,
yearning, reaching for the kitchen window,
growing up the strands of twine,
above her gardens
Sharing the story of her glories
with the girls this morning;
connecting them
with my memories of her
====
edited November 5, 2014
An Echo of Her Glories – v2
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
morning glories by the church
Suncook United Methodist Church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001,
2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014.
All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 33,330+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Jessie – v3
You were my first love
besides my own mother
Gone when I was thirteen
On May Day, your day
favorite of the whole year.
Your smiling face and the
Warble in your gentle voice
Still ring in my memory.
Those thick glasses
With seemingly brittle wire
frames.
My little hand in yours.
Flowers in the many beds of
your garden,
Silver dollar plants and
orange lanterns
Beside and on the front
porch.
Morning Glories climbing the
twine and up the back
Of the house, below your
kitchen window
Drenched in sunlight.
Violets in the dining room
Fragrance and beautiful
color and form
An April violet created for
me.
The sights and smells of
your small enameled kitchen
The flour sifter and kitchen
scale
From your father’s bakery on
the cabinet
Encrusted with decades of
flour and love
Cookies made for family and
shut-ins.
The Cookie Lady article
yellowed and on the wall
Below the kitchen clock
How proud I was to hear the
story
How happy I was to taste the
confections myself
Especially at Christmas-time
Saturday night beans and
brown bread
At the dining room table
Formal but familial
Staying over with you and
Grampa
Sharing Ritz and milk
The wonder of my father’s
room
As you showed me the pulley
system
He created over his bed
To turn on and off the light
suspended from the
Ceiling in the middle of the
room.
Bellows by the fireplace
our family still has
The thick carpet on the
stairs
The landings for the toy
soldiers
And other creatures we
played with
The mystery of the second
floor porch and the stairs
To the attic above
The clawed feet of the
bathtub
The family pictures on your
bureau
The warmth of your love.
How proud I was to be one of
your pallbearers
The first and greatest loved
one I ever lost.
Back ramrod straight as I
sat in my chair
Waiting for the cue to walk
beside you one last time
Hearing the loving words
from the pulpit
From your minister, your
friend.
A moment of peace, of
knowing you were loved
And you were with the Lord
already.
How I hated Him for taking
you
how I cursed God for this
So mad to lose you just as I
wanted to know you more
Just as I could have been
more
Clumsily, finding my way
without you still
in a darker world.
I wished we could have
talked about the desk,
Your father’s desk that you
gave me
Did you know about the
history of this gift?
That it was from that ship?
Did you know why he had it?
I wish I knew more.
Cookie Lady I miss you.
Edited November 30, 2013
“Jessie – v3”
(editing original again)
May 12, 2013
Edited for Mother’s Day worship service
“Jessie – v2”
written 5/2/2001, posted to blog 2/12/2004
“Jessie”
&
Pastor Ruth Foss
sermon blog
meditation blog
Suncook, NH
May 12, 2013
Mother’s Day
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 26,770+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Jessie – v2
You
were my first love
Gone
when I was thirteen
On
May Day, your day.
Your
smiling face and the
Warble
in your gentle voice
Still
ring in my memory.
Those
thick glasses
With
brittle-seeming wire frames.
My
little hand in yours.
Flowers
in the many beds of your garden,
Silver
dollar plants and orange lanterns
Beside
and on the front porch.
Morning
Glories climbing the twine and up the back
Of
the house, below your kitchen window
Drenched
in sunlight.
Violets
in the dining room
Fragrance
and beautiful color and form;
An
April violet for me.
Sights
and smells of your small enameled kitchen
The
flour sifter and kitchen scale
From
your father’s bakery on the cabinet
Encrusted
with decades of flour and love
Cookies
made for family and shut-ins.
The
Cookie Lady article yellowed and on the wall
Below
the kitchen clock;
How
proud I was to hear the story
How
happy I was to taste the confections myself. . .
Especially
at Christmas-time
Saturday
night beans and brown bread
At
the dining room table
Formal
but familial
Staying
over with you and Grampa
Sharing
Ritz crackers and milk
The
wonder of my father’s room
As
you showed me the pulley system
He
created over his bed
To
turn on and off the light suspended from the
Ceiling
in the middle of the room.
Bellows
by the fireplace
The
thick carpet on the stairs
The
landings for the toy soldiers
And
other creatures we played with
The
mystery of the second floor porch and the stairs
To
the attic above
The
clawed feet of the bathtub
The
family pictures on your bureau
The
warmth of your love.
How
proud I was to be one of your pallbearers
The
first and greatest loved one I ever lost.
Back
ramrod straight as I sat in my chair
Waiting
for the cue to walk beside you one last time
Hearing
the loving words from the pulpit
From
your minister, your friend.
A
moment of peace, of knowing you were loved
And
you were with the Lord already.
How
I hated Him for taking you
So
mad to lose you just as I wanted to know you more
Just
as I could have been more
Clumsily,
finding my way without you still.
oh,
Cookie Lady I miss you.
May 12, 2013
Edited for Mother’s Day worship service
“Jessie – v2”
“Jessie”
written 5/2/2001, posted to blog 2/12/2004
&
Pastor Ruth
Foss
A Handmaiden of the Lord
Suncook United Methodist Church
Suncook, NH
May 12, 2013
Mother’s Day
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A.
Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011,
2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 23,410+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Marigolds, Tomatoes, and Morning Glories
The pot at the end of the driveway
alive with colors, radiant in the sun
marigolds, tomatoes, and morning glories
gold finch yellow, burnt orange, forest green,
kelly green, a special red, of the ripening vine
faint, pale canary yellow, lavender, sky blue
at the rim of the trumpet, all together
awash in the warming morning
bright colors dancing together
slight breeze, hint of autumn
but summer still in their blooming,
their growing together
August 29, 2008
alive with colors, radiant in the sun
marigolds, tomatoes, and morning glories
gold finch yellow, burnt orange, forest green,
kelly green, a special red, of the ripening vine
faint, pale canary yellow, lavender, sky blue
at the rim of the trumpet, all together
awash in the warming morning
bright colors dancing together
slight breeze, hint of autumn
but summer still in their blooming,
their growing together
August 29, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
A pale, lovely, opening trumpet
a morning glory, in the pot
living with the tomatoes, the marigolds
the living garden by the end of the parking lot
An echo of her glories, the same color, the same beauty
growing in a row behind her house,
yearning, reaching for the kitchen window,
growing up the stands of twine,
above her gardens
Sharing the story of her glories
with the girls this morning
connecting them
with my memories of her
a morning glory, in the pot
living with the tomatoes, the marigolds
the living garden by the end of the parking lot
An echo of her glories, the same color, the same beauty
growing in a row behind her house,
yearning, reaching for the kitchen window,
growing up the stands of twine,
above her gardens
Sharing the story of her glories
with the girls this morning
connecting them
with my memories of her
August 4, 2008
An Echo of Her Glories
morning glories by the church
Suncook United Methodist Church
and those of my paternal grandmother,
Jessie Watson Foss, forty years ago
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray
Foss for usage. See all 33,330+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Catching the Wind
The morning glories,
in afternoon glory
shining in the bright fall sun
luminescent, transparent,
translucent colors
bleeding through their skin
bouncing, blowing, swaying,
lurching, in the gusts, the puff,
the pulses of wind
Trying to catch the wind
its dominion over the blooms
in the lens of my camera
to still the motion, to capture
the dance of the flowers on the vine
in the bright fall sun
the beautiful dance
of the trumpets
October 16, 2007 8:54am
in afternoon glory
shining in the bright fall sun
luminescent, transparent,
translucent colors
bleeding through their skin
bouncing, blowing, swaying,
lurching, in the gusts, the puff,
the pulses of wind
Trying to catch the wind
its dominion over the blooms
in the lens of my camera
to still the motion, to capture
the dance of the flowers on the vine
in the bright fall sun
the beautiful dance
of the trumpets
October 16, 2007 8:54am
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Friday, August 11, 2006
Morning Glories this Morning
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,730+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Jessie
You were my first love
Gone when I was thirteen
On May Day, your day.
Your smiling face and the
Warble in your gentle voice
Still ring in my memory.
Those thick glasses
With brittle seeming wire frames.
My little hand in yours.
Flowers in the many beds of your garden,
Silver dollar plants and orange lanterns
Beside and on the front porch.
Morning Glories climbing the twine and up the back
Of the house, below your kitchen window
Drenched in sunlight.
Violets in the dining room
Fragrance and beautiful color and form
An April violet for me.
The sights and smells of your small enameled kitchen
The flour sifter and kitchen scale
From your father’s bakery on the cabinet
Encrusted with decades of flour and love
Cookies made for family and shut-ins.
The Cookie Lady article yellowed and on the wall
Below the kitchen clock
How proud I was to hear the story
How happy I was to taste the confections myself
Especially at Christmas-time
Saturday night beans and brown bread
At the dining room table
Formal but familial
Staying over with you and Grampa
Sharing Ritz and milk
The wonder of my father’s room
As you showed me the pulley system
He created over his bed
To turn on and off the light suspended from the
Ceiling in the middle of the room.
Bellows by the fireplace
The thick carpet on the stairs
The landings for the toy soldiers
And other creatures we played with
The mystery of the second floor porch and the stairs
To the attic above
The clawed feet of the bathtub
The family pictures on your bureau
The warmth of your love.
How proud I was to be one of your pallbearers
The first and greatest loved one I ever lost.
Back ramrod straight as I sat in my chair
Waiting for the cue to walk beside you one last time
Hearing the loving words from the pulpit
From your minister, your friend.
A moment of peace, of knowing you were loved
And you were with the Lord already.
How I hated Him for taking you
So mad to lose you just as I wanted to know you more
Just as I could have been more
Clumsily, finding my way without you still.
I wished we could have talked about the desk,
Your father’s desk that you gave me
Did you know about the history of this gift?
That it was from that ship?
Did you know why he had it?
I wish I knew more.
Cookie Lady I miss you.
Gone when I was thirteen
On May Day, your day.
Your smiling face and the
Warble in your gentle voice
Still ring in my memory.
Those thick glasses
With brittle seeming wire frames.
My little hand in yours.
Flowers in the many beds of your garden,
Silver dollar plants and orange lanterns
Beside and on the front porch.
Morning Glories climbing the twine and up the back
Of the house, below your kitchen window
Drenched in sunlight.
Violets in the dining room
Fragrance and beautiful color and form
An April violet for me.
The sights and smells of your small enameled kitchen
The flour sifter and kitchen scale
From your father’s bakery on the cabinet
Encrusted with decades of flour and love
Cookies made for family and shut-ins.
The Cookie Lady article yellowed and on the wall
Below the kitchen clock
How proud I was to hear the story
How happy I was to taste the confections myself
Especially at Christmas-time
Saturday night beans and brown bread
At the dining room table
Formal but familial
Staying over with you and Grampa
Sharing Ritz and milk
The wonder of my father’s room
As you showed me the pulley system
He created over his bed
To turn on and off the light suspended from the
Ceiling in the middle of the room.
Bellows by the fireplace
The thick carpet on the stairs
The landings for the toy soldiers
And other creatures we played with
The mystery of the second floor porch and the stairs
To the attic above
The clawed feet of the bathtub
The family pictures on your bureau
The warmth of your love.
How proud I was to be one of your pallbearers
The first and greatest loved one I ever lost.
Back ramrod straight as I sat in my chair
Waiting for the cue to walk beside you one last time
Hearing the loving words from the pulpit
From your minister, your friend.
A moment of peace, of knowing you were loved
And you were with the Lord already.
How I hated Him for taking you
So mad to lose you just as I wanted to know you more
Just as I could have been more
Clumsily, finding my way without you still.
I wished we could have talked about the desk,
Your father’s desk that you gave me
Did you know about the history of this gift?
That it was from that ship?
Did you know why he had it?
I wish I knew more.
Cookie Lady I miss you.
------------------------
Edited November 30, 2013
“Jessie – v3”
(editing original again)
May 12, 2013
Edited for Mother’s Day worship service
“Jessie – v2”
written 5/2/2001, posted to blog 2/12/2004
“Jessie”
&
Pastor Ruth
Foss
sermon blog
meditation blog
Suncook, NH
May 12, 2013
Mother’s Day
All of my
poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002,
2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015,
2016. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com) for
usage. See all 40,710+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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