July 22, 2014

Subscriber Login



Reader Submitted
Happy Birthday Woodsfield: A Poem PDF Print E-mail
Written by Dorothy Ricer   
Thursday, July 10, 2014 8:24 AM

Two hundred years is a very long time

when you’re looking ahead for time spent

but when looking back it’s just a bumpin the road

and you wonder just where the years went

In 1813 or somewhere there

about Mr. Woods pictured a town

He needed some help so he offered the men

a keg of brandy to help clear the land

I’ll bet the chips flew and the axes flashed

as they bent to the labor at hand.

Indians and wars and the selling of slaves

are all part of Woodsfields’ past

population grew and the economy rose with

coal, oil and natural gas.

I’m sure you’ve read all the articles on how

this town was to grow

so I won’t dwell on the obvious

and tell more about that you already know.

 
Remember Our Vets: A Poem PDF Print E-mail
Written by Dorothy Ricer   
Wednesday, June 25, 2014 12:08 PM

My thoughts go wandering down through time

to the countless veterans who’ve died

Paying for freedom to live in this land,

not a bomb filled country side.

Their guns are silent-their taps have been played

They surrendered their lives for a cause

and on this day we salute them all

and in their honor give pause.

We owe so much to these heroes who fought

for victory from a dictator’s wrath

they answered the call as soldiers do

leaving their own chosen path.

There will be wars and rumors of wars

The Good Book says this is true

I only wish we would guard our own shores

instead of telling others what to do

Remember the families who’ve lost their loves

they truly acknowledge the cost

they pay a price every day of their lives

in the memories of those futures lost.

We pray for peace but it never lasts,

some country starts something someway

There’ll always be strife as the greedy want more

and its mostly the soldiers who pay.

I know they watch as we gather today

I’m sure they know we’re sincere

but the crowd gets smaller as years go by

and one day will vanish, I fear.

Their blood cries out from war-torn ground

‘Remember - don’t let apathy reign’

‘Keep patriotism living in America’s heart

and we’ll know we did not die in vain!’

 
War Isn't Pretty: A Poem PDF Print E-mail
Written by Dorothy Ricer   
Thursday, June 12, 2014 9:49 AM

Uncle Sam beckoned and they answered the call

Scared deep inside as they left,

Put uniforms on - said goodbye to their youth

As their loved ones mourned at the theft.

We can’t imagine what hell they went through

Depending on where they were sent,

Unbearable heat or bone-chilling cold

And, if lucky, their cover - a tent.

Never knowing when the enemy would strike

Or if by morning, they’d still be alive,

The only thing that kept spirits up

Was waiting for mail to arrive.

The sound of the guns ear-shattering blasts

Blend with the beat of their hearts,

Their orders say “go” and that’s what they do

They knew it was rough from the start.

They and their buddies - an unbroken team

Always covering each other’s back,

Wondering if death lay over the hill

As they rally to abort the attack.

Their nightmares are filled with things they have seen

Buddies killed or broken apart,

The terrible scenes their eyes have beheld

From their minds will never depart.

Then, letters unfinished, mementos, pictures

Is the legacy they left behind,

Imagine the grief as families sorted their things

And found a last letter unsigned.

These that we honor did not make it home

Many crying for Mom as they died,

Mostly young men their first time away

As they served their country with pride.

This isn’t pretty, but neither is war

We’ll give thanks to those brave ones who stayed,

Remember them now and each day of the year

For a debt that can’t be repaid.

 
On Aging: A Poem PDF Print E-mail
Written by Dorothy Ricer   
Wednesday, May 28, 2014 2:22 PM

What can I say about aging?

Just that it comes to us all.

The eyes grow dim and the hands shake a bit,

And it’s so much easier to fall.

You may look in the mirror in wonder

At that face looking back at you,

Brown spots and lines are the theme of the day,

There’s only on thing left to do.

Cover the mirror or just take the thing down,

You’re young in your heart, you can tell

You’ve had a good life and made it just fine

So that mirror can  just go to - well.

You find that some names have gone awol,

‘Tho their faces in memory cling.

Body parts have gone south with the snowbirds

Except they won’t come back in the spring.

Metamucil is part of the family

Cost for medicines have gone out of sight,

Groceries have doubled and tripled

If you’re rich, I guess that’s alright.

As I look out my window at sunshine

The flowers and trees full of bloom,

The breeze is soft and refreshing

And I just can’t be full of gloom.

We’ve had our days in the limelight

It’s time to let youth take a hold,

But one thing I’m saying with vigor

You’ll be sorry if you call us old.

 
A Tribute to Baylee and Caydi PDF Print E-mail
Written by John Figel   
Thursday, May 01, 2014 7:23 AM

Beacon reader John Figel submitted this photo and poem. He wrote, "Two of my granddaughters hit a pothole and were in an accident on Bares Run Road on March 24 on the way to school. By the grace of God they both survived." It was a Monday morning like any other.

To school we went, then call mother.

It was cold, the wind gave us a chill.

The road sure is rough as we go down the hill.

The sky was blue and kind of gray,

God had plans for us that fateful day.

Caydi’s in the back all buckled and secure,

The pothole was deep and really obscure.

There was a jolt, the truck began to slide,

No time to adjust, the truck I could not guide.

We screamed, a thud, then over the hill,

Is God watching over us, is this His will?

Baylee move your seat, Caydi said with a shout.

My legs are pinned and I cannot get out.

She wiggled and squirmed and finally got free.

What shall I do, we need help my sister and me.

Up the hill the nine year old crawled,

Which way do I go and then she recalled.

To school was I going, down is the way.

Sister is hurting, run fast do not delay.

God provided, to her legs He gave strength,

She ran and she ran almost a mile in length.

A lady was seen and still gasping for air,

My sister’s in a wreck, way back up there.

What’s you name little girl, Caydi she said.

“Let me help you”, but I need to call mommy instead.

It was not long before daddy arrived.

The truck he could see, how could any survive.

In an instant her daddy was there by her side.

Lord Jesus we plead may the presence abide.

The call had gone out quickly, prayers were made.

The medics and fireman were there giving aid.

A request she would make in soft tones so low.

Her Bible she wanted, where else could she go.

 
«StartPrev12345678910NextEnd»

JPAGE_CURRENT_OF_TOTAL