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Poems, Stories & Thoughts by Phyllis Bowles

“ME”

About this poem:

Ever since I can remember, I have loved poetry.  There were so many things that stirred my imagination and decided at an early age I was going to do them all.  But writing was one thing I knew came fairly easy for me. Any writing assignments from my English teacher, Ms. Madge Gibson, were always  looked forward to and  I was excited to see what kind of grade I would make.  The years have come and gone by so fast and my life has been wonderful.   The many things I dreamed of doing, in a small way have been realized, but writing had gone by the way side.  Eight years ago I had a friend who tragically lost her daughter about the same age as my daughter.  I hurt for her so!  I was driving one morning and thoughts were on my friend. Alone in my thoughts, the words of her grief started coming to me and I cried.  Immediately I grabbed a piece of paper, pulled over and parked and began to write.  I wrote her daughter’s story and my poetry was again a spark within me. The following poem was written a short while after the death of Brenda and expresses my feelings of what God has blest me with. 

“The Little Girl and Me”

Phyllis Bowles Sept. 2002

When I was but a little girl a little more than three, I used to dream about the things I’d like to grow to be. I’d pretend to be a movie star upon a great big screen and with the blinking of an eye, I was able to dance and sing.

And though my song and dance left much to be desired, I believe the drama within my soul was truly God inspired.

I loved to be dramatic and dream of things unknown and made big plans of others lands that I would love to roam.

Through this journey of my life, I’ve experienced many things.

I have performed upon the stage just as I used to dream. I have visited many places—that only in my mind I had traveled to in imagination, the travels had been confined.

Looking back on all the things that God has let me do, they seem so insignificant, compared to what he’s brought me through. There have been so many valleys and at time I felt so lost, but ahead of me I’d see a hill and upon the hill—a cross.

Near the cross was comfort and new strength would come to me and I would hear a whisper, “I’m still right here, so very near, just simply trust in me.”

I would muster up my courage and take up my shield of faith and sometimes, ‘twas quite heavy and would stumble beneath the weight. But as I struggled forward, my next hill to climb, the cross and HE was waiting as he had been all the time.

My dreams fulfilled in childhood and the beauty of places I’ve been, can ne’er compare the joy I’ve shared on this journey I’ve traveled with HIM.

Will on the Hill

By Phyllis Bowles

May, 2005

Tulsa Will Rogers High School Class of ‘54

 

Will on the Hill

Memories soar to bygone times when we were in our teens.

The “Fifties” were so magical as I recall the scenes.

Walking home with my friends, it was always such a joy,

how my heart would skip a beat when with a certain boy.

The school was our safe harbor, no drugs nor guns were known.

Within its walls we were secure and never felt alone.

The other night I took a trip down my memory road and with my

Children at twilight, we approached “Ol’ Will”—and still it gave

a sweet and welcome glow.

Emotion began to creep into my very being and tears that instantly

filled my eyes, crystallized, as my old school was seeing.

It still was very beautiful, but time had taken its toll—and just

like all the rest of us, it too was getting old

Jamison checked the inside by peeking through the door.

I took a seat on the senior bench as I had years before.

Gentry took lots of pictures and Joey liked what he saw.

I felt just like a kid again as I sat on the bench in awe.

Once again I read the names engraved upon the stone

and I felt the presence of the Class of 1941.

From ’41 to ’05 Will Rogers has served us well, the

stories that echo through its halls are too numerous to tell.

Not every one succeeded and many we have lost, but in our

memories of a bygone time, ALL our paths have crossed.

Maybe not in person but many in our thoughts, and still

we’ll reminisce at times about what life has brought.

The good times and the bad times, our memories are ours to tell,

when once upon a bygone time our life commenced at a school

we called, our wonderful “Will on the Hill.”

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Here are the photos Gentry & Joey took the day referenced in the poem.

Will Rogers High School 2005