Omega Means Starr

Fayetteville, Arkansas, USA

Omega was born at Great Bend, KS on January 10, 1911, the last of nine children. In 1927 the family moved to the west coast where she attended the University of Oregon, where she had her first poetry writing class; publishing a number of her poems in British and Irish poetry quarterlies. She has published poems in The International Library of Poetry and in Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum, winning Distinguished Awards from both. She has been a member of British Folklore Society and has published articles in Folklore on Canaanite myths. She has been involved in community beautification. Her hobby is gardening.

Grief

There she not lies under the lilacs as once she lay
In sun-dazed afternoons of his loins sweet sowing,
And in evening fragrance of his dilly-my-darling days,
Counting his days by summer rains
And nights by moments love has lain,
Each, as God said, in joy a thousand,
In grief, a petal dropped in the dust.
She lies now on a wind-swept hill,
Land-locked, riveted down with stone
On which, days and nights, he leans
Till the surge of sorrow rends his heart,
So bends him, his tombstone knowledge,
Staggers him home
To the cold meal kitchen
Where he eats alone.

Wild Geese In Flight

The whole worlds rushes out of doors
When wild geese fly,
Honking their exultations of free spirits,
Worshipping the boundless expanse of sky,
And the resplendent earth below.
Dwellers of earth, following seasons,
Far voyagers: lords of immeasurable space,
Masters of slow moving waters.
What seductive dreams impel their lighting,
arrowhead flight
Into the blue, absorbing sky?
Where do they go; what galaxies do they visit;
What paradises in worlds we do not know?
Free wanderers, bound by neither earth, water or air;
They are the essence of the human soul;
Conveyers of dreams, longings, hopes and aspirations,
Liberated by the spirit, limited only by the mind.
See, when next the wild birds fly
Trumpeting their exultations to a watching world,
If your soul is not soaring with the wings!

Passing

For all the loves that I have loved,
Let me no longer mourn, no more regret,
But like the Spring-blown blossoms
And the golden leaves of autumn,
Drift by whatsoever currents
The will of the river takes them
When severed from the trees they fall,
Their will now
To reach the sea.
And let me not
With fingers tensed,
Clutch and claw at banks,
At roots and tender stems
To stay my passing;
But gently, till I cross that wide expanse,
Touch caressing hands, remember at the last,
That I once was here, and loved,
And that I passed.
O Earth, that provides so sweet a bed
At resignations' ebb; life's last farewell,
Grant us peace everlastingly.