On the Wings of Twilight

On the Wings of Twilight

by Buddy Hendricks


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On The Wings Of Twilight is a collection of poems that mostly nature has inspired, as only it, in its infinite beauty, can do. Then there is the human side that is always available to draw thoughts that wind up on the paper. I can only hope that a line or phrase, perhaps a whole poem, can climb into the reader's thoughts and place a calmness upon them or take them to a place they can relate to in their own lives.

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781546258049
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 09/21/2018
Pages: 140
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.33(d)

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The Glory Of The Dream

Infinite power dwells within the youth, even without their knowledge that it is there.
Power ignited by their effortless ability to dream something of nothing, out of the air.
To change themselves into knights saving their friends from dragons and evil kingdoms.
Offering them solace from the misfortunes of the day, marching high, singing anthems ...

Oh, what can I be today? Do they even give thought,
nay blink, and the power wields.
Or' the fields of battle against legions of soldiers,
flying those planes away from airfields.
Arriving home with medals galore to find that lass that was left waving from rail depot.
When asked at the table fare about the day, "Oh,
nothing much!" With eyes aglow ...

Still, the power has not been touched, for no application to reality has come into play.
With time, that changes, and the real power is noted yet, perhaps never to its full array.
Practice, drill, set goals that pull us further than we thought possible, we can dominate.
The power consumes, the mates join in, the fans,
the community, the wins accumulate ...
The power is so awesome when it can be seen as a tool for everyday commitment and use.
Never doubting that it can carry the day as wind to the sails, no thought of offering excuse.
Yet comes the finest blessing when at age, I find that surreal light, bright flash or subtle gleam.
I can beckon the power that never dies, and from where're I am, bask in the glory of the dream. ...

On The Wings Of Twilight

It fairly well started from a gentle nod of the head,
whispering, "And so ..."
A trickle of water for a river, that first breeze through tiny leaves, callow.
A sky then cerulean, no hint of clouds, the air clean of all that is foul.
It was well on that day, a smile on the lips, there was no hint of a scowl ...

The animals stirred, the large and small, grazing on land spread before.
They wandered, wide-eyed and inquisitive, of the never-ending moor.
And there were birds of every color, flying to and fro, picture of grace.
Their songs were loud, yet easy, beautiful notes were in every place ...

The oceans gently rolled under the sun, lovely whitecaps upon their swells.
The scene ever repeated, splendor of sailors, it will always cast its spells.
The swimmers of the seas, their trek from port to port, shallow to deep.
They stretch from the darkish depth in all their strength, even to the neap ...

The sun, bright and warm as it moved across the heaven, to light the way.
It was comfort, it was strength, there were no reasons to fear, none to allay.
The trees offered shade to cool, a place to rest,
perhaps a fruit to consume.
A peaceful respite surrounded by unrelenting loveliness coming to bloom ...

The day was offered in love, in splendor, in beauty that remains untold.
A gift magnificent, without price, offered with hope that it would enfold.
The first of all things after love, spread upon the gentle earth for us to come.
Would become for each one, alike to a store, a longstanding emporium ...

That day had begun, that invisible clock to quietly tick along, to keep time.
All things set in motion to begin the journey never –
ending, first paradigm.
Yet, the day began to fade away, the glory given to all, good and right.
And it was carried gently away, to come again, on the wings of twilight. ...

Standing In The Shadows

Standing in the shadows, watching for the first light that comes,
just after the fliers begin stirring from their limbs, singing their anthems.
Just before, it was quiet, save for an occasional flutter of leaf, yet the night hums,
the beauty there, though difficult to see can be felt, as the seconds pass, it blossoms ...

Standing in the dim light, watching the sky transform once again from dark to muted,
to pastel, to rich, not to be dismissed for any time, for it is quick in passing, the day saluted.
The movement comes, in every living thing, high and low, aged and new, their rest uprooted,
for the promise of what is to come, as it has been the way from always, it is undisputed ...

Standing in the sun's rays, piercing through the trees, the temperature unhurriedly rising,
melting away the dew that settled on the meadow, of its affects, seemingly apprising.
The whole of the time from the beginning of the beginning, a stunning dramatizing,
of the human character given willingly for their value and without disguising ...

Standing in the brilliant radiance of the afternoon sunlight, a breeze upon the leaves,
reflecting upon the paths taken by so many since the very first day, only a fool disbelieves.
Yet each is able to go the way chosen, following advice, teachings, or only what he perceives,
alas, each must choose, freely or not, and learn to consider carefully what he daily weaves ...

Standing in the evening twilight, the light seeming to sadly fade away, as the world turns.
The sky turning a frosty shade of pink, then orangey-red, finally to crimson, oh the patterns.
How many have witnessed a sundown in peace and wonder, to turn and light the lanterns,
that fills their rooms and hearts with cheer and to help quietly dispel their lonely concerns ...

Standing in the dim shadows with only a muted glimmer of illumination waiting impatiently,
to be gone in the coming night, leaving only the thought of the beauty, spread magnificently.
Waiting calmly for the next light, being thankful for the day, on bended knee, ever reverently.
Watching the shadows fall, the night birds stirring, the cooling air, whispering, "Patiently" ...

Standing in the shadowy darkness with only light from a partial moon to view the progress,
pondering all that have come before, not knowing that everything was theirs to possess.
A humble belief in the real Light of Everlasting in this life, the only need for all to profess.
Even standing in the shadows, with thoughts unspoken, He will come, and He will bless. ...

Shorter Days

How the days grow shorter in December.
The snow comes, the sleigh rides, I remember.
The geese in formation honking good-bye.
Summer days are gone yet, no need to cry ...

How the days have gone away, gone away for new.
The snow lies heavy where the waves of grain grew.
The young boys build their castles and off to war.
Summer days are gone, no need to wish for more ...

How the days have passed so quickly away.
The snow keeps me by the fire, friends faraway.
Memories fill the mind, some sad, most good.
Summer days are gone, would do again if I could. ...

Where Is The Beauty?

Where is the beauty on frosty nights, below the sky crowded with stars,
from the shepherds in the fields to the high castles and their mighty czars?
Is it the tiny frozen drops of water gathered over every leaf upon the ground,
Sparkling like diamonds as far as the light will shine, just waiting to be found?

Where is the beauty on those chilled nights, below the quiet limbs of the trees,
where no moan of wind is heard, only the silence of smoke from yon chimneys?
Is it the in the imagination of ages and ages of those gazing at the same night's awe,
filling their minds with questions less any answers,
yet smiling at the plan without flaw?

Where is the beauty on those early winter nights,
with just a sliver of shiny moon,
with darkness all but complete, yet the stars even brighter, could that be Neptune?
Is it merely at the tips of tree limbs, and just a little further where the night birds soar,
darting their shadowy wings, setting the stage for the words of thoughtful troubadour?

Where is the beauty on that cold night tide, heading toward dawn, the quiet so deep,
save the sound of easy breathing, the witness of wonders so small, while most sleep?
Is it in the ever-glorious sunrise, when the shadows become less and less and less,
going where shadows go, among all the simple things gathered, wisdom to possess?

The Silence Of The Snow

Sometime after midnight the snow began to diminish along with the wind until it was still.
The moon came and went, came and went, as the clouds decided to go, against their will.
So, the light was still strong even with only half a moon shining against all that snow.
And it clung to every branch and bush and top of fence post, offering quite the show ...

In every direction it was the same, even in the shadows among the trees, the snow crept in.
It lay in easy folds across the field, up the hill; had spread itself there and around the bend.
The housetops in the distance were bedded down with blanket of white to sleep till morn.
The field behind them lay empty of yield, the stalks bent in defeat, cold, quiet, and forlorn ...

Nothing stirred, bird or critter, to make a sound,
there was only need for the watchful eye.
The air was crisp, calling for a tighter collar; the glove upon the hand, a long deep sigh.
Yet it was the lack of all to be heard that pervaded everything, the stillness at every go.
Even thoughts upon the mind hushed when one came to know the silence of the snow. ...

Be Still In The Presance

The town was astir, though night had come, and it was late, most were far from sleep.
Many had traveled there bringing goods to trade,
perhaps large sums they would reap.
Some had found even couches upon which to rest their weary forms, their dreams to keep.
Some would file outside to find any stall at the delayed hour, would warm even with sheep.

The sheep stirred just a bit, yet you would not have known they were there, they were quiet.
Cozy and warm they were in their straw, blinking their eyes, far away from the world's riot.
The other animals there moved about in the pen,
soon they too would be in need of a pallet.
The winter sky was pure and full of brilliant stars,
and clearly before all of them, the comet.

The quiet pervaded everything in the bright night;
the beauty was unmistakable, night of awe.
Throughout the cold night, they had made steady their course, to meet their destiny, no yaw.
No map for their path, no guards for their safe passage, or return, yet their plan had no flaw.
Upon their arrival, they would not at first speak,
their voices gone, could offer not even a haw.

Awe came so very easily to all who came, from the lowly to the high, there back of the store.
They gathered there to see what was about, only to find a tiny room with no window or door.
The touching scene would be the same for one or two, or a hundred, hundred, threescore.
The infant in the manger upon the straw, among the gentle animals would remain for evermore.

Christmas Musings

It was oh, those many years ago, that these old eyes would steal a peek to see,
what the mother and the father had prepared and placed beneath the tree.
I had quickly but sadly learned that there was no magical and jolly old man in a sleigh,
answering the boys and girls wishes after sliding down to the chimney's archway ...

We were so innocent, my sister and I; so precious standing hand in hand beyond the light,
watching, listening, trying not to let our boldness be found; lest we have to scurry, all affright.
Now, after oh those many years ago, I must wonder in my silent den surrounded by reverie,
How could they not have known we were there?
Or did they see, as if from a balcony ...

With eyes aglow, thoughts racing, we tiptoed to our beds with anxious hearts for the morrow.
At some far point in the night we slept, bundled in our blankets like little, wooly sheep in a haymow.
There was no recollection of what we dreamed, or even if we did. It did not matter on this morning.
We tore the bedding away and ran for the tree,
giggling, we had waited long for this morning ...

I did not notice then, saw little but my own little world, but over time began to realize,
the mother and the father watched more than they took part, over that I agonize.
I know now that we had little then and what we had was given to my sister and me;
for as they saw, it was for the little ones to receive, to laugh and be full of glee ...

I remember very early a feeling of great appreciation for what I received, it almost hurt my heart.
But I could not express it, it was curious for a little boy, but those thoughts would run away,
I could not tell the mother or the father how I felt;
I did not know it then, was not ready for the words.
I felt so sorry for them, they did not know my kind of joy; my attempts were miserable little cowards ...

Alas, years passed, but many times I pondered those mornings, those Christmases, my sister and me.
I fight to hold the tears, but smile when the mind shows the pictures and grasp them before they flee.
The comfort comes more easily now that I have watched my own from that balcony, the time reliving.
I do not know how, but even then I knew,
the blessing was not in the receiving, but in the giving. ...

Santa's Christmas Fun

When the Christmas bells are ringing in the frosty air,
and the carolers are singing at the bottom of the stair.
We'll all rush to the door to hear that old familiar song.
Don't forget to bring Hannah, Harper, and Hadlee along ...

And when they begin to sing that song about deer with red nose,
and all the neighbors are watching from yonder icy windows.
We'll all join in and laugh and sing, the words at the chorus we'll begin.
But don't you forget to let Taylor and Luke squeeze right in ...

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, everyone knows that jolly old melody.
Oh, what fun it is to ride that sleigh when snow falls beautifully.
We're all wound up, having fun, singing with all our might,

And there is Chase and there is Liam, they are here alright ...

But now the joyous singers are passing on down the street,
to spread their cheer to our neighbors and anyone they meet.
It's time to go inside, come boys and girls, hurry and close the door.
There are presents and goodies we know you will want to explore ...

One more thing, here before the tree, let's get comfee but be sure to hear,
what I have been telling over and over, from many a year to year.
Of your mom and dad, yes of course, and your mam-maw and pap-paw too.
When they were little, it was just as much fun as it will be with you ...

Sleigh Bells

Now's the time for family cheer, our favorite season is finally here.
Have all you youngin's been good and waiting for old Santa to appear?
We hear those songs, over the hills and through the woods, they're singing.
And if you listen carefully, you can almost hear those sleigh bells ringing.

Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.
We laugh and sing those songs and they always bring us good cheer.
Luke and Taylor have come a long way, those many miles just a winging.
And if you listen carefully, you can almost hear those sleigh bells ringing.

The turkey's cooked with all the trimmings fair,
breads and pies on the table too.
Chestnuts roasting on the open fire, cakes, candies,
and caramel apples on the menu.
Hannah, Hadlee, and little Harper too, helped with the tree, all the lights stringing.
And if you listen carefully, you can almost hear those sleigh bells ringing.

Finding that perfect hill to zoom down on that sled,
laughing all the way.
Pulling it all the way back up is not as easy, and not as fun, I daresay!
Watch out! Here comes Luke a speeding, the snow just a slinging.
And if you listen carefully, you can almost hear those sleigh bells ringing.

It is hard to sleep the night before Christmas, with all the thoughts in your head.
But dreams finally come, of toys and goodies while snuggled in that featherbed.
And here comes Chase, singing and dancing, to Santa she is tightly clinging.
And if you listen carefully, you can almost hear those sleigh bells ringing.


Excerpted from "On The Wings of Twilight"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Buddy Hendricks.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

The Glory Of The Dream, 1,
On The Wings Of Twilight, 2,
Standing In The Shadows, 4,
Shorter Days, 6,
Where Is The Beauty?, 7,
The Silence Of The Snow, 8,
Be Still In The Presance, 9,
Christmas Musings, 10,
Santa's Christmas Fun, 12,
Sleigh Bells, 14,
When Santa Came Flying, 16,
Santa In The Heart, 17,
Tracks In The Snow, 18,
Counting Snow, 19,
Let The Wind, 20,
The Agreeable Days Of Spring, 22,
The Vast Circle, 23,
Special Moments, 24,
Dreams, 25,
Only For A While, 26,
Voices, 28,
A-No. 1, 30,
What Of The Hours, 32,
Where Only She Has Been, 33,
The River's Edge, 34,
Added Days, 36,
All The Beauty, 37,
Rainy Day Picnic, 38,
The Wall, 40,
Asking Of Friends, 42,
That Man In The Moon, 44,
In The Cool Of The Night, 45,
Just Another Day, 46,
Freedom's Chimes, 47,
Childhood Whispers, 48,
Summer Dreams, 51,
Lovely Scents, 52,
The Dream, 54,
The Paper Band, 56,
The Warming, 57,
The Way It Has Always Been, 58,
Secrets Of The Heart, 59,
Mr. Shadow, 60,
Always A Companion, 62,
Chasing Dreams, 64,
That Golden Moon, 65,
Sweet Serenade, 66,
The Beauty In The Mist, 67,
The Mockingbird Near?, 68,
Why The Roosters Chased, 69,
Those End-Of-Day Shadows, 70,
Summer Surprise, 71,
Lovely Belle, 72,
That Strawberry Moon, 73,
Ashes On The Wind, 74,
And Summer Was Gone, 76,
Which Ones First, 78,
Shadows, 79,
Where Is September Today?, 80,
The Sweetest Laughter, 81,
Treasure Found, 82,
Good To Go Home, 83,
That Haunting Sound, 84,
The Gift, 85,
Familiar Roads, 86,
Of Days Gone By, 87,
Comes The Morning Peace, 88,
All Things Go Away, 90,
Sweet Sound Of Long Ago, 91,
Which Yesterday?, 92,
The Joys Of The Heart, 94,
Time Before And After, 96,
Rush Upon The Moment, 98,
Following, 99,
Pickpockets And Thieves, 100,
Oh Autumn, 101,
But For That Mystic Sound, 102,
The Mystique Of Autumn, 104,
Moments, 105,
Haunting Melodies, 106,
So Many Words, 107,
If Only For A Time, 108,
Spending The Last Hours, 109,
That Sound, 111,
The Names Upon The Stones, 113,
Last Train Home, 115,
Through The Field, 117,
Pass Not The Beauty Of Autumn, 119,
No Peace On The Train, 121,
If You Listen, 123,
Late Autumn Tale, 124,
The Last Time On The Train, 125,
Questions, 127,
Ironweed ... Fields Of Dreams, 128,

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