Ilo Redifer
Portland, Oregon
Ilo RediferPortland, Oregon |
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Ilo has been writing poetry since she was in her thirties. She is a retired business woman and Licensed Practical Nurse. Most of her life she has been a free-lance artist, writer, and sculptress. There is a published book of her poems called Prism Reflections. The National Library of Poetry has published many of her poems - some of which are on audio tape cassettes in the "Sound of Poetry" series. "Inspiration for my poems comes through the beauty of God's creations, through people I've known, and existing situations - some humorous, some sad." |
HopewellI stood upon a hilltopin Hopewell long ago... and saw the patchwork of the farmlands, and the woodlands far below. The brisk air caught my form and I felt that I could fly... As the wild birds' warbles echoed o'er the hills into the sky. O'er the hills of Hopewell where my love dwelt... He'd whisper gentle love words where the blossoms fell. White is the church spire in the meadow where we'd wed someday... And he'd carry me home to the cottage where the wild flowers bloomed so gay. O'er the winding road we went to the churchyard far below... Entwined our love forever more as the fair wild roses grow. The sweetness of the blossom's scent still lingers in the dell... And caresses the memory of those days in old Hopewell. |
PoetsTheir voices rose in melodic tones.My spirit was lifted by their common meaning. How wonderous those abilities to carry one's soul aloft. Gloriously phrased from the heart, the words came. And I knew that in each was a common bond. They were poets! |
Whispers Through The TreesJoy is sometimes fraught with sorrow,as sunbeams shine through rain. You are my brightest moment of tomorrow, and the reason for happiness today. Loving moments linger here and there, and your spiritual presence surrounds me. A song has no substance to declare, yet its melody moves us profoundly. Wafting thoughts break through the past - like a zephirous hushful breeze - and gentle sounds are caught at last, from whispers through the trees. My love surpasses the deepest oceans, and the un-measured scope of sky. As fantasy draws from wonderous emotions - producing magnificent visions to the eye. Sweet is that voice I remember so well. None other than you could please, and the haunting, charming spell - of those whispers through the trees. |