Mildred Haith

Cleveland Heights, Ohio, USA

I was born in Green County, County Seat, Xenia, Ohio in 1905. I attended Oak Grove School, Lincoln, Elementary, and graduated from East High in Xenia. I married a few years after graduation and settled in Springfield, Ohio. I worked at Checkers Theater until my retirement. I have two daughters, four grandchildren, eight great grandchildren, and one great great granddaughter. I started writing poetry in the first grade before I could spell, and continue to write today at ninety-one years of age. I have had poems published in The National Library of Poetry, Our Western World Most Cherished Poetry, World's Most Beautiful Poetry, and three newspapers: The Xenia Gazette, Springfield News, and The Sun Newspapers. My religious background is Baptist and my hobbies include writing poetry, making stuffed animals and sewing children's clothing. My hobbies keep me busy and bring me tremendous pleasures.

Crime

The crime scene has worsened
From year to year
Isn't it shameful we should live in fear
Of muggers, hoodlums, murderers and such
Depriving us a life style we cherish so much
Of love for each person, together we stand
Willing and ready to give a helping hand.
Why oh Why? Why is the reason?
Could it be too much television.
We should be mindful, of the road that we trod
Forgetting all else draw closer to God.

the Neighborhood Tomboy

The neighborhood tomboy is four year old
With big brown eyes and hair like gold.
She rises early and stays up late.
She climbs the fence, and rides the gate.
In cowboy boots and a pair of jeans
Her flowing round face is seldom clean.
With dirty hands she plods along.
usually singing some little song.
Or whistling her one note - tweet, tweet, tweet,
As she goes wondering down the street
There's no girls to play with, just little boys,
She really likes their kind of toys.
Once in a while she will play with her doll,
But this doesn't last long at all,
It's football, or baseball, or cowboy and such.
These are the things she like so much.
When Sunday comes, at mother's request
She reluctantly dons a frilly dress,
Her face is clean, her hair in curl,
Alas! We again have a sweet little girl.
But as Monday comes lose or win,
We'll have our tomboy back again,
Rough and ready and rearing to go,
To the gret outdoors,
Come rain, shine, or snow.