My Tower is a collection of some of the poetry that came to me over a period of years, as I found them, jotted down on backs of envelopes, pages of textbooks, and other unexpected places. Many of them were written during the years that "Greystone Castle's" was our home. May you find solace in the universal experience of all, and may you find them a blessing to you, as they have been to me.

From My Tower

Featuring Christmas at GreystoneBy Margaret Sells Emanuelson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Margaret Sells Emanuelson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-3206-4

Contents

Christmas at Greystone............................27The Invitation....................................43To Catch a Moonbeam...............................49The Dreamer.......................................53Eclipse...........................................56A Dove to a Tower Room............................59A Life-Time Of Reflection.........................64A Thorn for the Rose..............................69Into His Gates....................................72Essence...........................................74Once I Was Blind..................................75The Legend Of Glendare Castle.....................76Incense...........................................84As One............................................85The Dreamer.......................................87Behold My Heart...................................90Once We Were Young................................92Repentance........................................99The Prophet.......................................103One With The Wind.................................106Loneliness........................................108The Gardener......................................111Solitaire.........................................115My America........................................119The Towers........................................120The Great Generation..............................124Monticello........................................129Wake up America!..................................131II Family Portraits...............................139A Boggie..........................................140To Be A Man – To Beau.......................143To Laura..........................................148To Roma...........................................150To Belford........................................152To Jeff...........................................154To Special Friends................................157Intelligens.......................................158A Hyacinth For Angie..............................159The Cookie Monster................................161Ode To Anthony....................................163Ode To The Dabney.................................165To Joey...........................................167My Angel..........................................168Thank You.........................................171About the Author..................................175

Chapter One

Christmas at
Greystone


FROM MY TOWER ROOM I SEE
HOLLY BERRIES ON THE TREE
NESTLED IN MY
GARDEN WALL,
HANGING LIKE A
CRIMSONED BANNER,
IN A MOST INTRIGUING
MANNER,
GREEN, MAJESTIC,
STRONG AND TALL,
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.
SNOWFLAKES PATTER,
ONCE AGAIN,
SPLATTERING MY
WINDOWPANE,
PATTERNED PRISMS,
FRACTURED LIGHT,
ENTERTAIN MY
WONDEROUS SIGHT;
LITTLE DROPLETS
OF PERFECTION,
RAINBOWED COLORS
OF REFLECTION
TELL OF WINTER'S
PURE DELIGHT.

FIRELIGHT GLOWS FROM
YULETIDE EMBER
FROM EACH CRACKLING,
BURNING TIMBER,
WELCOMING THE
COLD DECEMBER,
WEAVING MEMORIES
TO REMEMBER;
YARNS, LONG WOVEN,
STORIES TALL,
FEATS OF HEROES'
RISE AND FALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

FROM OUR KITCHEN,
OLD AND RARE,
SWEET AROMAS FILL THE AIR,
SIGNALING THE
GOODIES THERE.
JOYFUL GIGGLES
EVERYWHERE,
SNEAK WE COOKIES
WITH A FLAIR.

SINGING CHILDREN,
LARGE AND SMALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

NOW WE GATHER
ROUND THE TREE,
HANGING ORNAMENTS
WITH GLEE.
MANTELS, DRAPED
WITH GREENERY,
STOCKINGS HUNG
FOR ALL TO SEE.
CANDLES LIT UPON
THE TABLE,
WEAVE AN UNEXPECTED
FABLE.
DELICACIES BY THE SCORE,
GOURMETS BECKONING
FOR MORE.

NOW WE SING A
CHRISTMAS CAROL,
AS WE "DON OUR
GAY APPAREL,"
GOWNS OF SPLENDOR
TO ADMIRE;
GENTLEMEN IN FINE ATTIRE.
RIBBONED DRESSES,
FLOWING TRESSES,
SKIP THE CHILDREN
DOWN THE HALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

PREPARATIONS
NEARING CLOSURE,
PROMPT A SCURRY
AT EXPOSURE,
AS THE CLOCK BEGINS
TO CHIME,
SIGNALING ARRIVAL TIME
FOR OUR FESTIVE,
FESTOONED BALL;
HURRIED DOINGS,
TASKS ENSUING.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

NOW THE HORSES'
HOOVES DO PATTER,
WITH A FASCINATING
CLATTER;
SLEIGH BELLS RINGING,
CAROLERS SINGING,
DOWN THE LONG
INTRIGUING MALL;
SOARING SPIRITS,
LAUGHING CHATTER,
SIGHTS OF WONDER
THAT ENTHRALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

AS WE GATHER AT THE DOOR
COMES EXCITEMENT,
EVEN MORE.
SPARKLING CRYSTALS
LIGHT THE HALL;
CHERISHED FRIENDS
NOW COME TO CALL;
HUGS OF WELCOME,
JOYFUL GREETING,
LONG ANTICIPATED MEETING.

RUSTLING SOUNDS OF
SWISHING TAFFETA
MINGLE WITH THE
CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER,
PEALS OF JOY FROM
EVERY RAFTER;
GENTLEMEN, BOTH
SHORT AND TALL,
GATHER ROUND TO
START THE BALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.

NOW THE MUSIC
FILLS THE AIR,
WHIRLING DANCERS,
SKIRTS AFLARE,
CHILDREN, WATCHING
FROM THE STAIR,
TREASURED HOURS SLIP AWAY
AS WE DANCE
ALMOST TIL DAY.
GROUPS OF FRIENDS
AROUND THE HALL
SIP AND CHAT ABOUT
THE BALL.
IT IS CHRISTMAS, AFTER ALL.


II

FROM MY TOWER ROOM, I SEE,
IN MY STORE OF MEMORY,
HOLLY BERRIES ON THE TREE
NESTLED IN MY
GARDEN WALL,
HANGING LIKE A
GRACEFUL BANNER
IN THE MOST INTRIGUING
MANNER,
STILL, MAJESTIC,
STRONG AND TALL.
IT WAS CHRISTMAS,
AFTER ALL.

STRAINS OF MUSIC
FROM BELOW
ECHO JOYS OF LONG AGO.
RIBBONED MISSES,
STOLEN KISSES,

UNDERNEATH THE
MISTLETOE.
GUESTS ATTIRED
IN ELEGANCE
ADD ENHANCEMENT
TO THE DANCE.
HAPPY MEMORIES
LIFT THE PALL.
IT WAS CHRISTMAS,
AFTER ALL.

IN MY MIND'S EYE
I REMEMBER
LOVE THAT BLOOMED
IN THAT DECEMBER,
LIGHTED LIKE A
BURNING EMBER;
LOVERS PARTED,
BROKEN HEARTED,

LOVE THAT LASTED
THROUGH THE YEARS;
THROUGH THE JOYS AND
THROUGH THE TEARS.
SWEET ENCOUNTERS,
HANDS THAT HELD,
UNIONS, ONLY GOD
DID WELD.

IN MY DREAMS I
STILL REMEMBER
THAT ENCHANTING
COLD DECEMBER
WHEN WE LIT THE
YULETIDE EMBER
ON THAT DAY SO LONG AGO,
AND THE ONES WHO
MADE IT SO.

NOW THE YEARS
HAVE SPUN AWAY
SINCE THAT LOVELY
CHRISTMAS DAY,
STILL, THE DANCERS
BOW AND SWAY,
AS THEY WHIRL
ALMOST `TIL DAY.
AND THE MUSIC LINGERS ON,
THOUGH OUR FRIENDS
ARE LONG SINCE GONE.
SPARKLING CRYSTALS
LIGHT THE HALL
AS THE DANCERS
START THE BALL.
IT WAS CHRISTMAS,


III

Now I hear the joyous laughter,
ringing out from every rafter
From the ladder, strong and tall,
As my Children
Hang, with glee,

ornaments upon the tree
Standing in the castle's hall,
It is Christmas, after all.

Now my children take our places
And repeat the former graces,
that my family embraces,
From those season's long ago.

Now their children romp and play
Till the night has turned from day;
And the candles light the way.

And my heart is filled with love
As I watch the Holy Dove
Light upon their little heads;
As we tuck them in their beds.

Hugs and kisses, and near misses,
Pleas to stay up if they may.
They await the sun's first ray.

So we pass the message on,
As our parents did before.
What a treasured gift to store
In Our Hearts Forevermore,
Of another Christmas morn
When our Savior, Christ, was born.

Hear the Holy Spirit's call
To His children old, and small – Jesus
Beckons, Now we praise Him ...
It is Christmas, after all.


The Invitation

I saw a man upon a cliff
that overlooked the sea.
And as my thoughts began to drift,
I saw Him beckoning to me.

His voice was soft, and crystal clear,
Like Music falling on my ear.
"Come nigh to me that I may part
the sorrow
From Your Aching Heart."

His arms reached out,
both strong and wide
to bring me to His
Wounded side.

His strong inviting hand
reached out,
As though I were to follow.
I, fascinated, turned to go,
The rocks were steep, then hollow.
The path lay out before my eyes,
I could not see it clearly,
And as I sought to climb the rocks,
The way grew hard and eerie.
And looking up I found that I
no longer saw him clearly.

In disappointment, my eyes searched
to reconstruct His vision;
But those I told, along the way,
just laughed in sheer derision.

I climbed beyond the doubting crowd,
I knew that He was there.
And struggling on, began to fall
in sadness and despair,

And then I heard a soft sweet voice,
"Hold on! All is not lost.
But you must learn my special ways,
And you must count the cost.

"I'll take you in my arms,"
He said, "and lift you up with Me,
Where you can see the world you left,
Beyond the restless sea.

And there you'll find
a treasure trove, no earthly
one could give;
Of peace and joy and love, My Child,
And you'll begin to live.

Then you will know you left behind
A world that's doomed to grief.

The fools who sought
the Robber's lure,
Were conquered by the thief.
The One who came to Rob and kill,
A master at deceit.

For they believed his lies And
Left the One of true belief,
And Suffer now, the consequence:

A fiery grave Beneath.

But you, my precious one,
I chose
before your seed was planted;
And from the first breath
that you drew
Your Entrance Fee Was Granted.

I knew you in your mother's womb,
Your Future choice was certain;
for I knew when you'd
come to Me
beyond the World's dark curtain.

Now, your appointed day has come,
As I Have Known It Would;

And Naught can snatch
you from My Hand,
Not Even If He Could.

"I'll take you in my arms,"
He said, "and lift you up with Me,
Where you can see the world you left,
Beyond the restless sea.

And there you'll find
A treasure trove, no earthly
one could give;
Of peace and joy and love, My Child,

And you'll begin to Live.


To Catch a
Moonbeam

SOUNDS AND COLORS
REELING OFF MY THOUGHT,
LIKE TO A TIME-OLD
FISHERMAN
WHO'S CAUGHT
A MOONBEAM ON HIS LINE,
A MELODY OF STARS,
AN ENDLESS RHYME.

THE SOUNDS AND COLORS
OF MY LIFE DO MERGE:
RED, FOR THE JOY OF LIVING;

BLACKNESS, FOR THE DIRGE;
YELLOW, FOR LAUGHTER, FUN,
AND LIGHT HEART AFTER;
GREEN, FOR THE HEALING
TOUCH OF GOD'S HEREAFTER;
BLUE, FOR THE DAYS WHEN
SORROW DAMPENS DREAMS;
PURPLE FOR ROYAL
MAJESTY WHO SEEMS
ONLY TO SAY, "REMAIN
IN ME EACH DAY"
THEN WILL I MERGE THE
COLORS OF YOUR NIGHT,
INTO A PURER, BRILLIANT,
WHITER LIGHT.

MY GENTLE KNIFE WILL
SEVER BONE FROM MARROW,
AND I SHALL WIELD A TURN,
A PATH THAT'S NARROW.

I CAUSE A CHANGE OF
ACTION, BEING, THOUGHT
FOR WHICH YOU'VE
STEADFAST YEARNED
BUT FELT HAD COME
TO NAUGHT.

EVER YOU REACH, AND
TRY, AND FAIL.
DO YOU NOT KNOW I'VE
KNOWN THAT VAIL?
DO YOU NOT KNOW
I LOVE YOU YET
EVEN THOUGH GOALS
ARE YET UNMET?

SOUNDS AND COLORS REEL
NOT OFF MY THOUGHT,

MINE I HAVE KNOWN BEFORE
AND FULLY BOUGHT.

I AM THE TIME-OLD
FISHERMAN WHO'S CAUGHT
A MOONBEAM ON HIS LINE,
A MELODY OF STARS,
AN ENDLESS RHYME –

AND YOU ARE MINE.


The Dreamer

The dreams of youth,
so vainly sought,
Their wild expectancy unwrought,
Are long since dead upon their bier.

Yet passing by I shed no tear,
They were not His,
but simply mine.

Like Eagle's wings they
soared on high,
And delved the depths
of earth and sky.
Adventuring, yet then to find

The ultimate of God's design,
the universal paradigm.

And now, content to find my place,
I gladly meet Him face-to-face,
To share the wonder of His Grace.

On soaring wings, the Spirit flies,
To depths of thought
Beyond the skies,
where universal wisdom lies.

The dreams of man can ne'er succeed
Unless His sovereignty's decreed.

So thus we flounder,
unfulfilled,
Until we know what

He has willed.

So listen aptly To His Voice
Till His instructions be instilled.
Then praise lift, and hearts rejoice
That You Can Hear His
Precious Voice.

The dreams of youth,
so vainly sought,
Their wild expectancy unwrought,
Are long since dead upon their bier.

Yet passing by I shed no tear,
They were not His,
but simply mine.


Eclipse

ALAS! THE DARK THAT
CAME AT NOON
AND RUPTURED OUR
SECURE COCOON
THAT SENT ITS WAVERING
WAVES ABOUND
TO EARTH, WITHOUT
A SINGLE SOUND.

THAT RENDERED US TO
AWE AND PRAYER
TO FEEL A HIGHER
PRESENCE THERE.
AND TREMBLING SOULS
DID STOP AND THINK

"ARE WE BUT ON THAT
DREADFUL BRINK?
ARE WE PREPARED IF
COMES THE END,
OR IS OUR FUTURE
JUST PRETEND?"
AND SOME REJOICED
IN JOY AND LOVE,
WHO SAW THE POWER
FROM ABOVE,
WHO FELT THE
COMFORT OF ITS SIGN
THE UNIVERSAL PARADIGM.


A Dove to a
Tower Room

From my tower room I see
Crystal prisms on the tree
Standing in my garden wall,
Green, majestic, strong and tall,
Hanging from each leafy banner
In a most intriguing manner.

Crystal prisms brightly glimmer
Set the whitened snow a-shimmer
In a miracle of ice,
Glistening, winter's paradise.

And I ponder each small prism,
Each illuminating schism,
Of His spectrums' varied rays,
Little drops of saintly praise.
Each alone a sturdy member
Of the One Divine Assembler
Who hast gathered each alone
In a rainbow, round His throne.

And my heart is filled with wonder,
Thus, considering the blunder,
When man undertakes direction,
In the light of His reflection,
From the prisms of His making.

Ah! But that we wouldst, forsaking
Idle pride, become dependent

Upon Him, Divine, resplendent,
And become a choice reflection
Of His own will and perfection;

Only then will cruelty cease
And his kingdom come in peace.
And I praise the God who made me,
And His Son who came to save me.
And I know that secret, hidden
In each prism of the rainbow –

'Tis the secret of the ages,
'Tis the Trinity, which sages
Often spoke in days of yore.
For the prisms' terse triangle
Jolts my mind's eye to untangle—

To but understand that
hidden mystery—

God the Father, God the Spirit, God,
The Son Who comes for me.

And my spirit's filled with power

As I ponder in my tower
And my tongue, unleashed in beauty,
Sings in praise and love and duty;

And my spirit flows with love
As I welcome thus the Dove,
Knowing utter sweet subjection
To miraculous perfection.

Oh! The glory that is mine
But to feel His Hand divine
Open sleeping eyes to see
Promise of eternity.


A Life-Time Of
Reflection

To look beyond the
looking-glass and see
A lifetime of reflection – that is me,
Unleashed the tears that
flow but from my heart,
A heart of sorrow, broken, set apart.

A tear for every wound and every care,
A tear for every tortured deep despair.
A tear for gratitude and gentle mirth,
A tear for all the loneliness
and dearth.

A tear for every quiet unmeasured joy;
A tear for each endeavor and employ,
A tear for every precious memory,
Love that was gladly given,
and returned to me.

To look beyond my
looking-glass and see
My life's reflection
looking back at me,
Is but to search that inner secret place
In which one lives – in
honor, or disgrace.

For through a darkened
mirror, now we see
Until He, who is perfect, does appear.

Then, He, Erasing every
Image Not of Him,
Will banish every tear,
And then, a new anointing
will impart –
A powerful surge of Joy
within the heart.

To look into my looking glass and see
His changing image
looking back at me,
Is but to live in bless'ed harmony;
The past, long gone, nor
tears upon my face,
Is but to live empowered
by His Grace.


A Thorn for the Rose

I woke amidst a gentle rain
And looked out through my
Windowpane;
And there I spied a crimson rose,
Robed in majestic velvet clothes.
She turned her face towards
Heaven's blue –
And then – suddenly I knew:

I must but pluck her beauty rare.
But, breaking stem, a thorn was there,
And drawing back in wounded pain,
I saw a crimson gory stain
Flow out of me – from out my hand;

And I began to understand.

God placed a thorn upon His flower,
Protecting her in every hour,
To keep her perfect, untouched, pure;
To keep her from the robber's lure.
Reminded then was I of He
Who wore a Crown of Thorns for Me.
Each drop he shed of deepest red,
Was but a cleansing healing flow
That in the thorn He sends for Me
An inner beauty I may know.

God placed upon his rose a thorn
For she knows Not to weep or mourn;
Nor knows she anger, lust, or sin,
Nor has she unpurged fruit within.

But you and I, His treasured love,
Are shaped by power from above;
Our thorns are thrust within the flesh
That we may flower and be refreshed,
That we may ever inward grow
And produce from His aime'd bow.

Thus, let me not my thorn resent –
Knowing that it was Heaven-sent,
That might God's roses understand:
A thorn for His Roses
wase well planned.


Into His Gates

Into Your gates, Lord,
do I come,
Grateful for every battle won,
Thankful for every day of life
And every challenge
Born of strife.
For every laugh, for every tear,
For everything that one holds dear,
For every infant born at last,
For aging parents, fading fast,
For every stalwart, loyal friend,
For loved ones sharing life's brief end.

Into your gates, redeemed of blame,
Into your courts to praise Your Name,
Into Your Presence let me be,
Into close fellowship with thee.
There does a joy-filled heart to sing
Majestic wonders of my King.


Essence

TIME FLIES,
SUN RISES,
AND SHADOWS FALL.
LOVE IS FOREVER, OVER ALL.

LOVE IS GOD'S CREATION


Once I Was Blind

Once I was blind,
But now I see,
Whence came the True Reality.
And what did I discover?
Thee!

And then, did I discover –
Me.

1967


The Legend Of
Glendare Castle

OLD GLENDARE CASTLE
STANDS ALONE,
AS THOUGH IT WERE AN
EARTHLY THRONE.
HIGH DOES IT SIT
UPON A HILL,
WHILE FIELDS GROW
YELLOW IN THE SUN
WITH HAPPY DANCING
DAFFODIL,
WHO CARE NOT OF
A BATTLE WON

UPON THEIR PLACE,
SO LONG AGO,
NOR OF THE ONES
WHO MADE IT SO.

IN OLDEN TIMES OF
KNIGHT AND MAID,
TWO LOVERS MET,
IT OFT IS SAID.
BUT FROM THAT
FATEFUL UNION FAIR,
THE WICKED ONE LAID
OUT HIS SNARE
AND WOVE A WEB OF
GROSS DECEIT
THAT HEARKENED
SOLDIERS TO THEIR FEET
AND MARCHED THEM ON
TO BATTLE'S BLOOD,

TIL ALL LAY DYING
IN THE MUD.

THE MAID WAS FAIR
WITH FLAXEN HAIR,
AND SHE, A DAUGHTER
OF THE KING.
HER BEAUTY NONE
COULD E'ER COMPARE.
HER KNIGHT, A
HANDSOME CAVALIERE,
ERECT AND STATELY,
STANDING THERE.

BUT JEALOUSY DID
FLY ON WING,
BY ONE WHO ENVIED
AND CONSPIRED

TO HARM THE ONES
SO DEAR ADMIRED.
AND SO, DID WEAVE A
TREACHEROUS TALE
OF LIES, AND TREASON'S
DEADLY SONG.

THE KING, CONVINCED,
DID WEEP AND WAIL,
TO THINK HIS OWN
SUCCUMBED TO WRONG;
AND SO HE SENT HIS
KNIGHT TO FIGHT,
FROM WHICH HE NEVER
COULD RETURN;
NOT KNOWING THAT HIS
KINGDOM'S MIGHT
WAS THUS DECEIVED,
AND SOON WOULD BURN.

ITS VICTIMS DRANK, A
BITTER DRAUGHT
WHEN WAS THE
PERPETRATOR CAUGHT.

WHEN IN THE FOREST
WERE THEY FOUND,
'TWAS NOT A WHISPER,
NOT A SOUND,
FOR IN SUCH BEAUTY
THEY DID LAY,
THE OLDSTERS TELL
IT TO THIS DAY.

THE TRAGIC FATE OF
KNIGHT AND MAID,
DOTH LINGER ON
THROUGHOUT THE YEARS

AND LEGENDS LINGER
AND GROW STAID
BY ALL OF PAIN'S
TORRENTIAL TEARS.

THERE IN THE MIST,
THE OLDSTERS SAY,
THE LOVERS MEET
E'EN TO THIS DAY.
THEIR SHROUDED FORMS,
BLOWN BY THE WIND,
IN EERIE LIGHT OF
NO KNOWN KEN.

AND SOME SAY WHISPERED
SOUNDS ARE HEARD,
BESPEAKING LONGING
OF THE TWO,

FROM THAT MISTY
MEETING PLACE
DO WEEPINGS
FREQUENTLY ENSUE.

FOR DOWN THE
CORRIDORS OF TIME,
ECHOES REPEAT THE
FATE OF ALL.
HENCE SORROWS COME
AND LOVE MAY GO,
BUT TIME ERASES
HUMAN WOE
FOR THOSE WHO
LIVED THEM,
NOW ARE GONE.
AND ALL THEIR
MEMORIES FADE AWAY.

BUT THOSE WHO FOLLOWED,
SANG THEIR SONG,
AND LIVED TO FIGHT
ANOTHER DAY.

THUS WISDOM'S
LEGACY IS LOST;
FOR THOSE WHO
FOLLOW, DIE IS CAST.
NOT LISTENING, THEY
PAY THE COST.
AND BLINDLY, THUS
REPEAT THE PAST.


Incense

ALAS! THE INCENSE OF THE
NIGHT DOTH WANE,
ITS FRAGRANCE NEVER
TO RETURN AGAIN,
AND THOUGH I
SEARCH TO YET
RECAPTURE AND RETAIN
ITS PRECIOUS MELODY
OF TIME,
ALAS! IT IS IN VAIN.


As One

Ah my love, my loving love –
How Happy I
That you and I
Were blessed from Heaven above –
That in His Wisdom, true, Divine,
God truly made you mine.

Behold – across these many years
Life dealt us many a blow –
To shape, to prune, with many tears
That we might really know
That we are one in every way,
In spirit, mind, and soul,
And only union with our God
Has truly made us whole.

A house divided cannot stand,
But two who yield to Him,
Together are forever one,
When'ere He dwells within.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from From My Towerby Margaret Sells Emanuelson Copyright © 2012 by Margaret Sells Emanuelson. 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.
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