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By Angela Willis


Promise Of The Journey



The Journey
The Stronghold Of My Life
Fierce Passion
Hidden Away
The Kaleidoscope Effect
Freedom Of Mind
The Finer Things
The Attempt
Dancing Shadows
The Survivor
Chest Of Memories
A Little Country Church
My Bottle
A Rose
As The Day Turns
The Memory
Those Fears
Christmas Night



The Journey

I walked a mile home

To a world that I knew so well.

A haven of safety

That only I would know.

The silence of a busy day

Would quiet my trembling heart.

Leaving me in touch with God,

My feet would carry me across the farm.

I tarried past the grape vines,

Into the field of beans.

I took in the wonder of the world,

Feeling the sun beating down on me.

Soon I would find myself in the area

Where old cars had been for years,

The grass was waist high

And trees stood barren of their leaves.

As I continued on my journey,

I climbed over the weather beaten fence.

The hogs were cooling themselves

in the mud hole nearby,

Paying no attention to the stranger

Who carelessly walked about.

I soon came to the barn

Where many memories had taken place.

Working with the men

Loading bails of straw into the loft,

Laying beside the one I loved

On a starry night, and

playing in the corn,

Hoping that this would never end.

Suppertime was approaching quickly,

And too soon the day would have to rest.

So I headed for the house,

Taking with me the peace and serenity,

Of a land that has been blessed.



The Stronghold Of My Life

I have often thought

That the world would be

A much better place without me.

The days are long

The nights are even longer.

These blue feelings

bring me to tears.

Having the desire to drink,

I fight the craving of a family thing.

My thoughts begin to wander and

I began to worry

About the kids, the bills, and

Every little thing.

Anxiety builds within my soul,

With tremors and tears and

No relief in sight.

I needed out, any way I can

But fear of pain consumes

What courage I have.

I wish I knew how to make this stop,

So I can live like any normal person

With a family.

I hate the way I look and despise

My past,

Never forgetting how much my children hurt.

The difficulty in attending

School functions and yet the desire

To be there for the girls, is hard

For me to master.

I tremble at the very thought

That I may do something to embarrass them.

Through the years of their day and age,

I know that it is hard for them

To be accepted by their peers.

Parents must meet certain requirements.

These things I fall short of

The inadequate feelings as apparent

Leave me longing for a change

That does not come easily.

I strive to be the best mom I can

But my reality is, to some extent,

Will always control my daily life.

My childhood memories,

Are nightmares that I somehow relive

The smaller events become

A major one with me.

The rain can take me back

To my years on the farm. Walking

Barefoot in the fresh cut grass.

Running through puddles and mud between

My toes, made me feel alive somehow.

Hanging our laundry on the line, was

Just the way we did it then. I loved

Laying in the living room floor, a

Part of me that I have not given up


Planting flowers and seeds in a garden,

Brought me many happy memories. I like

To a garden to this day, making way for a

little more beauty.

The dogs, the cats, and the hogs I fed,

Taking care of them was a highlight in

My life.

Time changes so much, that while walking

Through this life, you lose a lot of

What once was.

My grandmother and my uncle had become

An important part of my world. Then

Tragedy struck, my grandma died.

Leaving me alone in a world that I did not know. I

Found myself struggling to let the past go.

Loneliness struck a broken heart

And left me with very little to

Look forward to.

I held on for my unborn child,

To give her the life I never had.

She needed a mom to be there for her

And to hold when she cried. She

Needed the very things I had to give.

And I tried very hard to give her these things.

Yet, my depression was still controlling

My life. I searched for answers and

Found none. I searched for peace and

Love and still I couldnít find anything

That I was looking for. Years of searching,

Left me fighting to stay alive.

I withdrew into my own world, hoping to

Die in the night.

I had to close the doors, that others tried to open,

Just to stay alive.

Fear of hate and abuse consumed my life,

Leaving me building those brick walls.

Hateful words of another keep me locked

Away, but still Iím trying to break free,

But, I canít get away from me.

I do believe the day will come, when I can

Set myself free. I will take a stand on my

Own two feet, without the support of those

Who now hold me up.

Someday I pray, that I will be free from

The past that binds me now.



Fierce Passion

Thereís a passion burning deep within my soul,

Only a torch could hold itís light.

Desire is flowing through my breast,

As if itís fountain had sprung a leak.

Intensity of my mind grows to itís peak

With each stroke of your hand.

Sensations flow lovingly

Through each portal of my being,

Passing one to another

All of who we are.

This tingling passion

Grows as my body trembles,

With relief

Of this fiery passions release.

Ms. Angela Willis



Hidden Away

Through the years of pain and tears

This small child never saw the joy of all that could be.

This little girl, stayed hidden away

In her own little corner of the world, behind a locked door.

As she sits up in her grim room of darkness

With an overwhelming desire for love and acceptance,

She gazes at the flickering light beneath the door.

She shivers with hopes of someone placing

A key into the lock that has kept her hidden away

From the rest of the world.

Unlocking the door is easy for some,

But this little girl, hurt and frightened,

Unlocking the door, will be difficult for her,

She donít have a key.

As you carefully insert the love,

to unlock her door,

Reach out your gentle hand to the hidden child,

Share the love God has given you.

Help make the pain go away and the joy begin to shine through.

Lend her your hugs,

Let her feel the warmth of your touch,

As her tender soul reaches to challenge a light

She has not before seen,

In her world of darkness,

While hidden away.

Ms. Angela Willis



The Kaleidoscope Effect

The crystal chandelier hung

Above the ballroom floor with

itís elegance beaming about.

Diamond shaped silhouettes

Dance across the walls,

As the live band plays

Itís version of the waltz.

Men in top hats and tails,

Women with their gowns that flared

Out around them,

Filled the room with a beautiful

Array of colors floating about them.

As couples joined hands

And danced around the room,

A kaleidoscope effect appeared.

Lifeís cycles are much the same,

Watching the design forever change

With each dance in the chain.

Sometimes we face

our trials and triumphs more than once,

But we never face them

The same way twice.

When the gallant evening

Comes to a close

Tipped up hats and warm smiles

Leave their mark on this incredible night.

Turning back to an empty dance floor,

I shut out the lights.

Although the room has grown so dark,

I can still see the colors

Of a kaleidoscope piercing the hall.

Ms. Angela Willis



Freedom Of Mind


A prisoner of my own mind

A world full of circles that evolves

Around in my soul

Leaving me confused about all that is.

Stripped of my clothes and my world

Living in the heart of someone elseís world

Iím not going anywhere,

But down three corridors

That suddenly end at the doors before me.

What do they know about me,

Five minutes of their time canít fix

Forty years of mine.

Recollecting loving life once because it was real

I wonder now what is real.

How could I want to continue on when

Fear consumes each day?

The passion of love beats deeply

Within the chambers of my soul

As the questions continue to dance in my head.

The fear of never returning to such passion

Keeps me trapped with nowhere to run.

But my hope, my truth, my salvation,

Will go before my mind

To shake the Earth, rattle the doors,

And break free the locks that keep me

From my own heart and once again set me free.

Such a glorious, glorious day that will be.

Ms. Angela Willis

September 13, 2005



The Finer Things

The finer things of love and life

I find within my mind.

The beauty of flowers,

The feel of grass,

Curves of curtains,

And light of lamps.

My world around,

My palace home,

These finer things I call my own.

Wooden animals,

Artwork divine,

And I canít forget the hands of time.

Soft music playing,

children laughing,

My husbands voice,

calling me in the night.

These are the finer things in my life.

Ms. Angela Willis



The Attempt

The hands of time has passed me by

And the world is full of hate.

The anger rages deep inside

With nowhere for me to run and hide.

I have tried and tried

To talk it out

Yet, there is no relief in sight.

The pain I feel

Has brought forth my tears

But still no relief.

My parents are dead,

My husband is sick,

The girls are teens,

And I canít find no peace.

I tell myself, I should be fine,

Glancing over at the hands of time.

I search and search for a break,

I know the decision I have to make.

A bottle of pills or a razor blade,

These things I have begun to contemplate.

Before me sits one way I could,

But still I wonder if I should.

The bottle of pills would make me sleep,

Never to awaken.

Iíd leave behind so many things,

Broken hearts and broken dreams,

All else to be forsaken.

I believe Iíll wait

Ďtil morning light,

With hopes that these feelings

Will pass on through the night.

Ms. Angela Willis



Dancing Shadows

Looking in at what was once me,

I see heartaches shadows

Dancing vigorously across the walls.

As I wander,

Moments in time are standing still

And hurtful memories of what once was

Lead me.

Lost loves, lost dreams,

Alone in despair,

Wondering how in the world,

I got here.

Searching my life over and again,

My faith had grown weak

In a life full of sin.

A vivacious Lord,

A glimmer of relief,

A shimmer of hope,

Of all that could be.

Free from the pain,

peace settles in,

My dancing shadows,

Never come again.

Ms. Angela Willis



The Survivor

I am the survivor;

I took the beatings and the abuse,

Through the years of my childhood.

I held on to my faith for it was all I had.

I am the survivor.

I would pray each and everyday

That someone would hear my cry for help,

But no one came.

I am the survivor.

It was as though the world was deaf

When I would cry out with pain,

Nothing again was ever the same.

I am the survivor.

I withdrew into myself

Leaving only my footprints behind me.

I am the survivor.

Now that I have made it through this wicked way of life,

I have begun to live and love again.

I am the survivor.

I am learning a new way of life,

I am starting to change

The old habits that bind me.

I am the survivor.

Maybe someday I will be more than just

A survivor.

Ms. Angela Willis



Depression has consumed

Not only my mind, but my life.

It controls my world

And leaves nothing untouched by itís wickedness.

Feelings of desperation and loneliness

Flood my pleading soul.

Giving such a sense of helplessness

That I cannot control.

My thoughts tell me

To shake these feelings,

But my soul wonít let it go.

I react to a sound that Iíve heard a million times.

Leaving me agitated, I try to keep myself quiet,

So the world wonít know how bad I have given in to this

Way of life.

Irritable and alone, in a world full of people,

I feel as if my feelings never quite mattered.

Hobbies and appointments get put on hold,

To the depression that consumes my soul.

For I have not the energy,

To get out of bed.

Many sleepless nights give way,

To shortened mornings and a day half gone

And life to live.

The blue sensation suspends my inability

To complete a simple task.

The chores are a major project,

That wonít be completed

Until I can convince myself,

That life is worth living.

Time, many say, is a great healer,

As my past creates a memories of agony.

The struggle to move on is near impossible to me,

Even with my family.

Changing history

Has blessings of itís own,

As the future looks better

Than my life did before.

Recovery is slow,

But hope remains

Within the heart

Of many broken dreams.

Ms. Angela Willis



Chest Of Memories

A chest given to my grandmother

On her wedding day,

Is now a time capsule of memories,

That holds trinkets of our family history.

The aroma of fresh cut cedar fills the air

When I open the chest of heirlooms.

The first thing I noticed

There in one corner,

A stack of old Bibles

Four generations old.

Their tattered covers and worn out pages,

Still hold words of love.

What looked like a brown paper bag

With a string tied around it,

Held two little dresses with matching bonnets

And a worn out baby blanket folded neatly,

That once belonged to me.

As I continued to look through this

Chest of memories,

I find some old books from my childhood,

Ones that mama used to read.

ďThe Night Before ChristmasĒ was always my favorite.

There were books that held pictures

And notes that mama made as I grew up,

During my years in school she kept

My essays and poems and cards that I made.

On the shelf of this chest

Is an old cigar box,

Filled with coins and rashen books,

And letters of love,

That my grandparents had shared

During the time grandpa was at war.

There was a black jacket laid carefully

Over the top of the trinkets,

From the time my uncle served

in the Korean war.

Next to it was an old Army suit,

Green in color, that my grandfather had worn.

On top of everything,

There laid a three cornered flag

With such elegance,

A memory of a man who fought for his country,

One who believed in freedom for all,

One who took a stand on what he believed.

This old chest is not worth much,

But its trinkets are the memories of trials

And triumphs and will always be a part of

This American family.

Too soon, the day will come,

When I pass on this chest to my daughter

And she will add her own trinkets

To this chest of memories.



A Little Country Church

There was a little country church

Just outside of town,

Where friends and neighbors

Were gathering around.

You could hear the church bell ringing,

Alerting passers by,

That worship was beginning,

On this Sunday morn.

While the congregation stood singing

Hymns of praise and glory,

I remember Grandmaís eyes

When they sang, ďI Love To Tell The StoryĒ.

Even as young as I was,

I seemed to understand,

Love filled the hearts

of every woman and man.

Faith spoken words, by the preacher man,

Had every eye watching

and each ear listening

To what was being said.

When the sermon would end,

We would stand again

To sing a hymn of praise and glory

And shake each otherís hand.

Taking with us a lesson

That we had been taught

Giving thanks to God

For all that we have in our lives.

I thank Jesus today

for that little country church,

Just outside of town,

Where friends and neighbors gathered,

And I learned to pray.

Ms. Angela Willis



My Bottle

As I grasp my bottle firmly

That is standing by the bed,

I wonder how I got this far into hell, once again.

I twist the cap and break the seal,

I canít wait to taste that first drink,

Knowing all the while, I shouldnít be.

As it flows past my lips,

I can feel itís warmth,

And smell the sweet smell of that Southern Comfort,

That fills the air.

The provoking thought and desire for more,

Another drink to kill the pain,

No thinking twice, I drink again.

Iíll drink myself into another world,

One that no other can enter in.

No thought of what tomorrow will bring,

I will take another drink,

Until I am drunk again.

By morning I will feel better

believing I had fun,

No hangover to warn me,

Of the harm.

No remorse for my actions,

Another drink I will take.

Only to start the day again,

With my bottle of Gin.

Ms. Angela Willis




A Rose

A roseÖ

A Spring time miracle,

Leaves of green,

Soft petals open, one by one,

Nurturing sun, falling rain,

Kiss the bud with your love.

Pretty rose,

Smell so sweet,

Show us all,

Your raving beauty.

Red, white, pink, or yellow,

Blushing sweethearts, make one smile,

Sun of yellow, make one mellow,

White of love, purity of heart,

Long green stem, prosperity declare.

Pretty rose

Smell so sweet,

Show us all,

Your raving beauty.

Ms. Angela Willis



As The Day Turns

The moon is only half full tonight

The stars are scattered over the sky.

The day is coming to an end

And soon tomorrow will begin.

I will then take what I learned


And make it work for me today.

In my childhood, there was no serenity,

I had only faith

That gave me hope.

As I grew a little older and became a

Little stronger,

The faith that once provided hope

Is now providing love also.

It is now that I must take the faith, the hope

And the love and keep it with me


As the nighttime begins to fall once


And the big ole moon is shining down

I will lay me down to sleep

With a little more serenity.



Pictures of you and me,

Pictures of our families.

Pictures of old cars and trucks,

Pictures of parties we loved so much.

Sweet loving memories,

We like to relive,

Passing moments of time,

We like to give.

Memories we forget,

But always remember,

In these precious pictures

Of our hearts forever.

Old friends and smiles,

Are hard to forget,

The dances and dreams,

Left in our steps.

All are best,

when remembered,

In pictures that freeze that moment,

We donít want to forget.

Such precious treasures to history

Will be left behind, when we are gone,

Still bringing smiles,

To the ones we love,

That long to know what ever happened

Long ago.

Ms. Angela Willis




The Memory

The stars are hung with care at night,

As the moon rolls across the sky

till morning light.

The suns rays pierce the Earth

While the trees stand tall

with their leaves waving in the Summer breeze.

As the day goes on carelessly about,

People scurry to destinations unknown,

Passing blooming flower beds and butterflies,

In this garden of memories.

The day, too soon, comes to an end

As dusk settles in.

The sun passes by

With itís warm glow blanketing

this living beauty,

That has become a garden,

ÖA memory.

Ms. Angela Willis




Those Fears

The feathers on the trees

are turning colors in color,

Bringing back fears of my younger days.

Where do I turn? Where do I go?

I change direction,

To push them fears deep inside myself.

A new season passes by,

It appears as if all I can do, is cry.

Feeling lonely, lost in despair,

I could not reach out

into the surrounding beauty.

This fear of getting hurt

Time and again,

Wonít allow me to let another person in.

In these days of grieving,

What once was,

I begin to let others know,

This IS the real me.

As time passes by,

Glimpses of color shade my world,

I feel I am conquering,

Those fears that have bound me.

Ms. Angela Willis



Christmas Night

Christmas time is near,

Bells are ringing Christmas cheer,.

Carolers are singing joyous songs,

We now know that it wonít be long.

Trim the tree with twinkling lights,

Add some garland to make it bright.

Arrange the bulbs one by one,

Forgetting not where they came from.

Some from friends, some for gifts,

Some were even hand me downs.

Place the star atop the tree,

Recollecting the birth of Jesus,

For you and me.

People scurry around the town to find

That special gift for the one they love.

Wrap it in pretty paper and bow,

Then set it carefully under the Christmas tree.

On the longest of winterís nights,

Egg nog and apple cider warms the soul.

A Christmas story, I would tell,

The one that children love so well.

Santa Claus would soon arrive,

With eight tiny reindeer dancing on the roof.

Santa with his bag of toys,

Delivering them to the

Good little girls and boys.

Time was drawing near you see,

As the children close their eyes

Hoping that Santa would drink their milk

And eat their homemade cookies,

Ones made just for him.

While fast asleep, snug in their beds,

Kids would not know mom and dad,

Would be filling stockings and stacking gifts

By candlelight.

With so little rest beneath the moon,

The childrenís eyes wide open

Looking to find

What Santa had left for them behind.

As we entered the family room,

Their precious eyes surprised,

That Santa again had arrived.

I was chosen to wear his hat,

To hand out the gifts that he begat.

They tore each pretty paper and bow,

Tossing it aside, amazed,

At what the jolly ole fellow had brought.

Soon I fixed their breakfast,

Things they liked,

Pancakes, sausage, eggs, hash browns, and

Ham alike.

Then we would get ready to visit

friends and family, all,

To wish them a Merry Christmas.

Not once did we forget the reason,

We celebrate such a joyous Christmas season,

Our Lord, and Saviorís birth.

Ms. Angela Willis






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