Olive Page Delano

Buffalo, New York, USA

Olive was born in Suva, Fiji to an Australian father and an American mother; was orphaned at the age of 4 ½, was taken to Australia for a year and then to America, where she has lived ever since. She spent her growing-up years in the home of a childless elderly couple, on an isolated farm. Writing was an important outlet for her, and several of her poems were published in the local weekly newspaper. She is a lifetime member of The International Society of Poets and her poems have been published in several anthologies of The National Library of Poetry.

Christmas Prayer

O, Lord Christ who reigns in beauty
in the throne room of my heart,
Let thy gracious love enfold me
with the joy thou dost impart.
Let my life sing out the message
angels sang in ages past.
Let my words speak out the glory
of thy love so pure and vast.
let the radiance of thy presence
shine throughout the darkest night,
till at last the whole world knoweth
That thou art the truth and life.

Eternity - Infinity

My home is not this planet earth;
I've come from far above the sun.
I wrapped myself in robes of flesh
because I had a race to run.
My hope was I might run and win
a flight to unknown realms of joy
beyond this world of dust and sin
to blessedness without alloy.
I'd fly beyond the Milky way
and visit planets yet unknown.
My heart is longing for that day
when things now secret will be shown.

Until that day there's much to do:

Broken fences I must mend;
Splendid vistas I must view.
Mountains high that I must climb;
Deserts I must wander through
lost and dying souls to find,
leading them to life anew.

And then one day I'll take my flight
to worlds unheard of, sights unseen,
faster than the speed of light
to foreign realms of which I dream.
Some day perhaps I'll meet you there,
way beyond the farthest sun;
Perhaps that day we then may share
the precious journey just begun.

Octogenarian On Wheels
Dedicated to my brother, Jim Page, whose daughter
Pat recently sent him a bubble-maker to be attached to his 10-speed bicycle.

See him wheeling down the road amidst a cloud of bubbles;
His white locks flying in the breeze, he's shedding all his troubles.
He cares no whit for cheers or jeers that follow in his wake
For the roads he chooses differ oft from those the other take.

The birds on wing look down in awe. "He's just our kind of guy,
If he had wings instead of arms, we'd teach him how to fly."
We thank you kindly, birds, for caring, but there's no need for trying.
Though it may look like he's earthbound, at heart he's really flying.