Barbara Ann Bogusz
A page for old friends and colleagues.
Scrape the barrel
Toss the coin
Make love with me
Across our loin.
Bare your chest
Distend your brow
Just be with me
And rarely row.
Go swing your hip
Or cross your leg
Just love me true
Don't make me beg
For time will tell
The hours ring
Just hold me close
Our joy to bring.
Barbara Ann Bogusz (1999)
As your day dawns may
Fresh thoughts soar you to the stars.
That would be my wish.
Your body language
Tells me you are sad to leave,
not your studied words.
Your eyes mirror my
fear, that now deepens with your
That all joys must end
For each and every person,
Who has shared a love.
With relief I see
Your body lurch, as if in
readiness for grief.
Barbara Ann Bogusz (2005)
One’s mood can change,
From feeling life is ‘worth the living’
Into a state confused, deranged.
A spoken word
From one held dear,
Can tip the scales we thought so poised
Into a vortex whirling.
We are the source
Of changing moods,
When doubts of self and will to strive
Bring thoughts of self-destruction.
Complex, human beings
Playing out our time allotted
Yet fearing we will blot the page
Through self-imposed, self-doubt.
In rhythm to the beat,
And let the mood of pendulum swing
To weave a course mid highs and lows.
Barbara Ann Bogusz (2003)
The joy of ones first grandchild is profound
In contrast to the first born of our own
When every move and tremble can confound
Thus raising fears of which we are so prone.
No such fears arise for each new grandchild
For their differing natures will amaze
Recalling parents tempers strong and mild
We send them home with only love and praise.
Tis many years since number one appeared
Now thirteen others grace my family tree
Five lively boys by nine girls are outpaced
Until our new year sets a sixth boy free.
Embracing each new grandchild at their birth
Rekindles me with bursts of joyous mirth.
Barbara Ann Bogusz (2012)
While tropic moons
Dance shadows on the bay
Your perfume penetrates
Our sultry nights
Around your gnarled and ancient base.
You sought asylum
On our northern shores
And neath your branching aegis
We wonder how
You reached our far flung distant land.
Did you drift
On mountainous seas?
To reach our rich and fertile soil
In which to plunge
Your fertile frangipani stem.
Or did you risk those
Perilous trips in vessels prone
To leak as close they sailed
To isles bereft of Christmas joy
Neath raging sun, nor not a drop to drink?
But you survived
In fathoms deep for there is
Inherent in your tenacious sap
A stamina to endure a sentence long
Till rebirth of your kind’s ensured.
We embrace you
For melding your migrant charms
Beside our native flora
Befitting our sun drenched land
In ways we wisely all admire.
_Barbara Ann Bogusz (2001)_
___The Gift of a Diary___
Here you may feel to pen
Memories of joys that brought you love,
Though tinged with tears,
For moments lost
May you find in sharing with these pages,
Those pains will fade,
And you will rise refreshed, renewed,
As does the dawn each day.
Barbara Ann Bogusz (2006)
__Ambiguity is the touchstone of reality__
Barbara Ann Bogusz (1974)
Seated on her office desk
Long legs crossed in panty hose
Very soon he did appear
And noted well her appearance
Many questions stirred his mind
For no likeness to a sales girl
Did she bear.
Why was she there he pondered
As his pulse rate slowly rose.
Time would tell.
Moving forward in their roles
And working well together
Many times they wined and dined
And when they danced she touched his
Driving home in moods aroused
She offered to remove her
In that decisive moment
Their two lives were destined to
For though he was much younger
And she was a mother of four.
Wedded now for many years
And with a son of their own
With romantic smiles they now
Recall those magic days of
Barbara Ann Bogusz (1997)
Barbara Edmondson & Richard Bogusz 1970