Poetry of Cynthia Gail Manor, B.A.
Montopolis, Austin, Texas
Your Subtitle text
A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. David Brinkley
List of Selections
Click on links below
Dear Mama
A Mother's Love
In This Night
Sunset on the Sea
Forever
For Marsha Gray
Eyes of a Princess - Tribute to Princess Diana
More than a Conquerer
Dear Mama
You Are Appreciated
Written for my mother, Artie Fay Manor, for Mother's Day 2009
“Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.” Proverbs 31:30-31
I remember—
When I was a little girl,
the hours you labored
washing, combing and pressing
our long, thick hair.
Afternoons at the clothesline
darting between rows of towels,
and clothes,
some of which you sewed yourself,
sheets swaying in the Texas breeze,
children frolicking in the midst of your toil;
I remember the scent of Pine Sol
inundating the entire house
as you mopped our hardwood floors,
kitchen tile,
and scrubbed the restroom.
5:00 a.m. –
You faced the winter darkness alone,
lighting the gas heaters so we could bathe
and dress in warmth.
Home-cooked breakfasts—
Cream of Wheat
oatmeal
bacon
Aunt Jamima pancakes,
cut Tic-Tac-Toe style,
perfectly round,
perfectly browned,
every single time.
And suppers prepared the old-fashioned way,
no microwave,
after a long day at work,
flour on the counter,
chicken crackling in hot grease,
with a warning not to get too close;
Boiling water awaiting hand-cut vegetables;
Home-made beans and cornbread;
Food fit for royalty.
It’s no accident we still ask you to bake our birthday cakes.
So many years
of sacrifice,
worries and tears
you hid from us.
Like a tree you stood
in the midst of our travails,
even while enduring your own.
You are the rose bush
in the front yard
which has lived nearly as long as I,
enduring decades of
blistering heat
sliced by sleet and hail,
petals strewn by gale force winds,
attacked by weeds and fire ants.
But still it flourishes,
has always bloomed,
sometimes even in winter.
God picked you
from his cherished garden
a long time ago,
and blessed me
to become your child,
to teach me the value of
mercy
kindness,
and dignity like still waters
belying the force within their depths.
You are my first and greatest hero,
and as I’ve aged
my eyes have come to see
the glory God has always known—
that you are phenomenal.
Let your sacrifices praise you in the gates of Heaven.
(2009)
Top of Page
A Mother’s Love
Written for Linda Williams in 2006, when her son passed away.
They trace the years
upon your face,
your sacrifices,
your Motherly love—
Tears,
flowing from places
only known to God—
a Love broken
neither by life nor death
nor perditions.
It ripens with the passage
of the ages,
like a rose petrified,
belying its fate
with a faint yet distinct aroma.
It flows forth as a
silent, trickling stream,
basking against the pillars
of the heart,
and rages like a mighty river,
to the sea, to infinity,
where it was spawned
in the image of the Almighty.
It will stand against the greatest storms,
yet nurture the gentlest caress.
It will fight the bloodiest battles,
yet render sweet tutelage to her disciples.
It will sojourn in darkness and loneliness
so that her offspring will not have to.
It will endure even to eternity
with the brilliance of a thousand Andromeda’s,
for time and space cannot abate
a Mother’s love for her child.
It is a tree that never dies,
a song that resonates in Heaven,
a joy beget of tears and laughter
and memories that glow close to the soul
like a scented candle.
Eternal light,
ever strong,
embroidered on the soul
in the rich tapestry of Forever-
never ending Love.
(2006)
Back to Top
In This Night
Written for Edith Valdespino (RIP) during her illness in 2006.
“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”
Isaiah 43:2 KJV
In this Night--
the stars will shine
with a prism’s light—
Andromeda,
Orion,
the Northern star,
like a mobile
of hope
above your distress.
Reach out
to the Light
that is all your own,
your being,
your strength.
It is a reflection--
of your soul,
the God-given strength
in You.
In this Night--
the river crests,
at the recesses of your consciousness
like a storm
in the crescendo of darkness.
The pyres burn bright
with lusty flames
that call Retreat,
Defeat,
and the laying down
of the armor of God.
But in this Night
the noctilucent sky
beckons
your hopes and dreams
to her Breast, the Moon,
the door to your healing,
illuminating the face of God,
girding you in the brilliance
of knowing
that not by Fire,
by Water,
or by Might,
can satan dispel
the Spirit within
You.
Back to Top
Sunset on the Sea
Written in memory of my ex-husband and son's father, Darwin Edwards,
who passed away in 2008
Perched on the edge of eternity
I sit,expectantly,
like a child,
hoping against hope
to catch a glimpseof your Soul,
but you have set sail
into the glory of sunset
on the ebb and flowof the sea.
My dreams and tears train
in the wake of your exodus,
burning ever brighter
with your ascent into infinity,
only to ripen with time
into reverence and joyous memories,
love found,
lost,
then rediscovered.
The seed you have left behind
shall reach beyondyour mortality
and carry on your blood
and hopes.
If only I can catch holdof your glory to say,
“Good bye,
I never stopped caring,”
;one last time.
Alas, my farewells
cannot breach the waves
that separate the living
from those passed on,
yet I lift them upon this shore
to honor you
Brother
Father
Son
Friend.
As the sun fades
from crimson to gray,
my tears will fall
and my heart will break,
but on the next Eve
I will remember you
and the sea you cherished,
your beautiful smile
and clever wit,
and I will go on.
Someday…
I shall see you again,
in a place beyond the sunset,
beyond the sea.
(2008)
Back to Top
Forever
Dedicated to the Family of Roxanne Nicks. Mrs. Hicks was killed in a car crash while on lunch break in 2007. I read the story in the Statesman and was horrified. She went to lunch one day and never came back, leaving behind a husband and a couple of small children. When I finished writing the poem I mailed it to his employer, as noted in the Statesman. I don't know if he ever got that poem, and I don't know this family at all. I just felt like I had to do something for them.
In the eyes of a Woman
lay the Seeds
of Forever.
As she sleeps
her dreams
pollinate the seedlings
with Hope and Faith.
Though her Children’s cries
no longer stir her
from her repose,
their eyes
reflect her iris,
her Soul,
and all that she has lived,
loved and persevered.
When they cry
her Spirit pours forth
like a silent river
from the deepest places
to ease their sorrows
and placate their fears.
O’, Husbandman,
she watches over you
as you pray,
catches every tear
that falls,
and beckons
all the mercies of Heaven
to heal your broken heart.
What is the Life
of those left behind
without the dreams
of those passed away?
Their eyes
blanket the night sky
as beacons of Hope
for the living,
to be longed for--
cherished,
and the Moon
and the Northern Star
shall keep watch over them.
(2007)
Back to Top
For Marsha Gray
I wrote this poem in 2000 for my thenn co-worker, Marsha Gray, to commemorate her retirement.
One by One
with Fate’s thieves,
they flicker on whispers in the breeze
that undulates
in the ebb and flow
of tell-tale hymns
that feed the glowing embers
destined to abate,
wrenched from our anticipation
as it pitches fever high,
then Alas,
we say Good-bye…
Having touched both great and small
with humble cares and grace,
you’re our Lily of the vale,
a gem to spite Midnight’s lair
as she combs the sand
from her hair
to unwittingly lay to sleep
a journey well traveled,
a job well done,
while we weep…
Though your illume fades to gray,
your warmth will age
the tender recesses
of our memories
day by day.
(2000)
Back to Top
Eyes of a Princess - Tribute to Princess Diana
A priestess of her conscience,
she sojourned the tides of Poseidon's respire.
Her lapis orbs oft times belied
the torment in her heart.
A yearling, she was betrothed to
the opulent gilds of royalty,
but her diffident shoulders were soon to buckle
beneath the mimicry.
Parapets of the House of Windsor
disdained her soliloquies,
and in their eclipse
she began to wither away,
But from this perdition
she mined compassion
on behalf of the lost,
impoverished and verboten.
Unwittingly wed to misery,
she became the bride of many hearts,
a calling consummated by
her sacrifice, beauty & humility.
(1998)
Back to Top
More Than A Conquerer
Written in 2006 for Reginald Goodwin, friend and poet, in response to his book, Unemployed - A Memoir.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help, My help cometh from the Lord…” Psalms 121
A life birthed
in the brilliance of promise,
honed in years of preparation
at the tutelage of “Pop.”
Always one to do right,
to give ones all—
to school,
to work,
to family,
to God,
never knowing the storm that awaited
your midlife,
that perdition’s lair had already lain claim
to your hopes and dreams.
Alas, the storm presents,
and the struggle for sanity begins
in long days
and weary midnights,
as the clock is dragged on by insomnia
and despair
with cries to God seemingly unheard.
Like Sisyphus you labored
against the calamity,
and when all seemed lost,
a Memoir was born.
Though laced with anger and despondency,
your words are a beacon
to many unbeknown to you
on this journey of estrangement
from Corporate America.
Your words are life and light
from the shadows of perdition,
and the message spreads
far and wide,
for you have conquered the thing
that should not be
and become Son of Invictus,
bloodied yet unbowed,
ambushed yet unconquered.
“For all things work together for good
for those who love God and who are called
according to his purpose…”
and God has ordered your path
To Greatness!
(2006)
Back to Top
Home
List of Selections
Click on links below
Dear Mama
A Mother's Love
In This Night
Sunset on the Sea
Forever
For Marsha Gray
Eyes of a Princess - Tribute to Princess Diana
More than a Conquerer
Dear Mama
You Are Appreciated
Written for my mother, Artie Fay Manor, for Mother's Day 2009
“Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.” Proverbs 31:30-31
I remember—
When I was a little girl,
the hours you labored
washing, combing and pressing
our long, thick hair.
Afternoons at the clothesline
darting between rows of towels,
and clothes,
some of which you sewed yourself,
sheets swaying in the Texas breeze,
children frolicking in the midst of your toil;
I remember the scent of Pine Sol
inundating the entire house
as you mopped our hardwood floors,
kitchen tile,
and scrubbed the restroom.
5:00 a.m. –
You faced the winter darkness alone,
lighting the gas heaters so we could bathe
and dress in warmth.
Home-cooked breakfasts—
Cream of Wheat
oatmeal
bacon
Aunt Jamima pancakes,
cut Tic-Tac-Toe style,
perfectly round,
perfectly browned,
every single time.
And suppers prepared the old-fashioned way,
no microwave,
after a long day at work,
flour on the counter,
chicken crackling in hot grease,
with a warning not to get too close;
Boiling water awaiting hand-cut vegetables;
Home-made beans and cornbread;
Food fit for royalty.
It’s no accident we still ask you to bake our birthday cakes.
So many years
of sacrifice,
worries and tears
you hid from us.
Like a tree you stood
in the midst of our travails,
even while enduring your own.
You are the rose bush
in the front yard
which has lived nearly as long as I,
enduring decades of
blistering heat
sliced by sleet and hail,
petals strewn by gale force winds,
attacked by weeds and fire ants.
But still it flourishes,
has always bloomed,
sometimes even in winter.
God picked you
from his cherished garden
a long time ago,
and blessed me
to become your child,
to teach me the value of
mercy
kindness,
and dignity like still waters
belying the force within their depths.
You are my first and greatest hero,
and as I’ve aged
my eyes have come to see
the glory God has always known—
that you are phenomenal.
Let your sacrifices praise you in the gates of Heaven.
(2009)
Top of Page
A Mother’s Love
Written for Linda Williams in 2006, when her son passed away.
They trace the years
upon your face,
your sacrifices,
your Motherly love—
Tears,
flowing from places
only known to God—
a Love broken
neither by life nor death
nor perditions.
It ripens with the passage
of the ages,
like a rose petrified,
belying its fate
with a faint yet distinct aroma.
It flows forth as a
silent, trickling stream,
basking against the pillars
of the heart,
and rages like a mighty river,
to the sea, to infinity,
where it was spawned
in the image of the Almighty.
It will stand against the greatest storms,
yet nurture the gentlest caress.
It will fight the bloodiest battles,
yet render sweet tutelage to her disciples.
It will sojourn in darkness and loneliness
so that her offspring will not have to.
It will endure even to eternity
with the brilliance of a thousand Andromeda’s,
for time and space cannot abate
a Mother’s love for her child.
It is a tree that never dies,
a song that resonates in Heaven,
a joy beget of tears and laughter
and memories that glow close to the soul
like a scented candle.
Eternal light,
ever strong,
embroidered on the soul
in the rich tapestry of Forever-
never ending Love.
(2006)
Back to Top
In This Night
Written for Edith Valdespino (RIP) during her illness in 2006.
“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”
Isaiah 43:2 KJV
In this Night--
the stars will shine
with a prism’s light—
Andromeda,
Orion,
the Northern star,
like a mobile
of hope
above your distress.
Reach out
to the Light
that is all your own,
your being,
your strength.
It is a reflection--
of your soul,
the God-given strength
in You.
In this Night--
the river crests,
at the recesses of your consciousness
like a storm
in the crescendo of darkness.
The pyres burn bright
with lusty flames
that call Retreat,
Defeat,
and the laying down
of the armor of God.
But in this Night
the noctilucent sky
beckons
your hopes and dreams
to her Breast, the Moon,
the door to your healing,
illuminating the face of God,
girding you in the brilliance
of knowing
that not by Fire,
by Water,
or by Might,
can satan dispel
the Spirit within
You.
Back to Top
Sunset on the Sea
Written in memory of my ex-husband and son's father, Darwin Edwards,
who passed away in 2008
Perched on the edge of eternity
I sit,expectantly,
like a child,
hoping against hope
to catch a glimpseof your Soul,
but you have set sail
into the glory of sunset
on the ebb and flowof the sea.
My dreams and tears train
in the wake of your exodus,
burning ever brighter
with your ascent into infinity,
only to ripen with time
into reverence and joyous memories,
love found,
lost,
then rediscovered.
The seed you have left behind
shall reach beyondyour mortality
and carry on your blood
and hopes.
If only I can catch holdof your glory to say,
“Good bye,
I never stopped caring,”
;one last time.
Alas, my farewells
cannot breach the waves
that separate the living
from those passed on,
yet I lift them upon this shore
to honor you
Brother
Father
Son
Friend.
As the sun fades
from crimson to gray,
my tears will fall
and my heart will break,
but on the next Eve
I will remember you
and the sea you cherished,
your beautiful smile
and clever wit,
and I will go on.
Someday…
I shall see you again,
in a place beyond the sunset,
beyond the sea.
(2008)
Back to Top
Forever
Dedicated to the Family of Roxanne Nicks. Mrs. Hicks was killed in a car crash while on lunch break in 2007. I read the story in the Statesman and was horrified. She went to lunch one day and never came back, leaving behind a husband and a couple of small children. When I finished writing the poem I mailed it to his employer, as noted in the Statesman. I don't know if he ever got that poem, and I don't know this family at all. I just felt like I had to do something for them.
In the eyes of a Woman
lay the Seeds
of Forever.
As she sleeps
her dreams
pollinate the seedlings
with Hope and Faith.
Though her Children’s cries
no longer stir her
from her repose,
their eyes
reflect her iris,
her Soul,
and all that she has lived,
loved and persevered.
When they cry
her Spirit pours forth
like a silent river
from the deepest places
to ease their sorrows
and placate their fears.
O’, Husbandman,
she watches over you
as you pray,
catches every tear
that falls,
and beckons
all the mercies of Heaven
to heal your broken heart.
What is the Life
of those left behind
without the dreams
of those passed away?
Their eyes
blanket the night sky
as beacons of Hope
for the living,
to be longed for--
cherished,
and the Moon
and the Northern Star
shall keep watch over them.
(2007)
Back to Top
For Marsha Gray
I wrote this poem in 2000 for my thenn co-worker, Marsha Gray, to commemorate her retirement.
One by One
with Fate’s thieves,
they flicker on whispers in the breeze
that undulates
in the ebb and flow
of tell-tale hymns
that feed the glowing embers
destined to abate,
wrenched from our anticipation
as it pitches fever high,
then Alas,
we say Good-bye…
Having touched both great and small
with humble cares and grace,
you’re our Lily of the vale,
a gem to spite Midnight’s lair
as she combs the sand
from her hair
to unwittingly lay to sleep
a journey well traveled,
a job well done,
while we weep…
Though your illume fades to gray,
your warmth will age
the tender recesses
of our memories
day by day.
(2000)
Back to Top
Eyes of a Princess - Tribute to Princess Diana
A priestess of her conscience,
she sojourned the tides of Poseidon's respire.
Her lapis orbs oft times belied
the torment in her heart.
A yearling, she was betrothed to
the opulent gilds of royalty,
but her diffident shoulders were soon to buckle
beneath the mimicry.
Parapets of the House of Windsor
disdained her soliloquies,
and in their eclipse
she began to wither away,
But from this perdition
she mined compassion
on behalf of the lost,
impoverished and verboten.
Unwittingly wed to misery,
she became the bride of many hearts,
a calling consummated by
her sacrifice, beauty & humility.
(1998)
Back to Top
More Than A Conquerer
Written in 2006 for Reginald Goodwin, friend and poet, in response to his book, Unemployed - A Memoir.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help, My help cometh from the Lord…” Psalms 121
A life birthed
in the brilliance of promise,
honed in years of preparation
at the tutelage of “Pop.”
Always one to do right,
to give ones all—
to school,
to work,
to family,
to God,
never knowing the storm that awaited
your midlife,
that perdition’s lair had already lain claim
to your hopes and dreams.
Alas, the storm presents,
and the struggle for sanity begins
in long days
and weary midnights,
as the clock is dragged on by insomnia
and despair
with cries to God seemingly unheard.
Like Sisyphus you labored
against the calamity,
and when all seemed lost,
a Memoir was born.
Though laced with anger and despondency,
your words are a beacon
to many unbeknown to you
on this journey of estrangement
from Corporate America.
Your words are life and light
from the shadows of perdition,
and the message spreads
far and wide,
for you have conquered the thing
that should not be
and become Son of Invictus,
bloodied yet unbowed,
ambushed yet unconquered.
“For all things work together for good
for those who love God and who are called
according to his purpose…”
and God has ordered your path
To Greatness!
(2006)
Back to Top
Home