James C. Hartsell

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 © 2010

You were a joy to us
Always saying the right thing
Perfection in rhyme and verse
made you a giant to look up to

And yet

You were a master
Of the commonplace
Showing the joy
In a pockeful of peanuts

Your love of Larrie
Was shown in myriad verse
In poetry lovely and gentle
With a balance wonderful to see

You were a man
Who recognized
That life was short
That you would soon walk
That last mile

You showed us in beauty
That no one should mourn
That death is a part of life
That life to which we were born

© 2010 Jared(Another Jim) 

For Wintersong

How your songs do play.

Upon memories
our hearts now lean;
in fond remembrances, 
so much your name recalls.

We now replay the days
again and again
to bring back the times,
to give thoughts to you; 
we uplift your life's celebration. 

I reread one of your
poems tonight
and felt the sweetest peace
from your view.
You've left it for us-
scripted on the pages,
intact for the ages, 
your gentle spirit 
staid and true.

How your songs do stay
Always and forever 
Always and forever

© 2010 Jantanleo

On Hearing of Wintersong's Death
 How many times you have given
the image, the gift to us,
the lift of light and word.

I think of the way you would say
your poems, golden with plump suns,
aromas of greens unfolding the grasses
and leaves under our noses.

The peace within you
colored the page with each flower,
each echo of children's laughter
that seemed to move through you to us.

I will miss the way you reflect
the birds' songs, the white lace
of hope on the trees after
I've had a long day.
You are gone from this earth.
But your words, your gifts,
timeless, will always remain.

© 2010 Kerri Rochelle

For Wintersong,  in Celebration of New Wings

And somewhere there between the scenes
     of worlds we were and worlds we will
            we blend with fascination.
                       James C. Hartsell 
                       in his book  Visions from the Trail © 1994

                 "That was quite a trail"     

                © 2010  smzang

For My Brother  (thinking of Jim)

His days stand before him, 
unclouded by questions of time. 
Their limits, though centripetal, 
do not constrict. He does not kick 
against bone. His skin, dust blown 
by malignant winds, 
never escapes sight of its Captain. 
His darkening frees him, 
for within its circle, 
old margins are dispersed. 
Fears fade into a boundless music 
of the spheres, his orbed tears 
blotted by grace. He becomes light, 
as in a dance, stepping in the perfect rhythm 
he once labored helplessly to find. 
All his stirrings settle into earth. 
He comes down to that place 
which does not recognize divisions, 
awaiting the quickening turn. 

© 2010  Brian Lowry

Wintersong (for Jim)

Recall a song of winter,
see it silent, beneath
these frozen river waters
that no hand can break;
now known untouchable.

Whistle then its
remembered tune

of a winter branching out,
and set it atop the trees
into charcoal smudge silhouettes,
that later the spring buds
will draw out in colour.

And if those blossoms
you know will never come,
melt a song of winter,
and let memory decide
where the flowers are,

where they can rest.

© 2010  Sabresun
Cinquain for Wintersong

Long, long
after life's throng
there will always be a
Wintersong singing  in each breath
of earth 

© 2010  Doris Swearingen
charcoal by Sabresun © 2010
Chimes of Wintersong

We shared the same moonlight 
that showered down upon us,
Simple souls in love with nature…
Your words and talent carried 
me down...
A trail lush with serenity,
To a place we both knew well.

 I always sensed your free spirit 
knew mine…
Perhaps they hide together,
Off the beaten path,
Avoiding the noise and hectic pace…
Of concrete and skyscrapers.
Privacy and solitude you 
seemed to value,
Only showing your face…
Encompassed with hair wild,
Through verses and images created…
With your pen…so skilled and humble.

So now you run…
Barefoot and free…
Where your spirit soars
Free from pain and suffering.
And with a prayer, I make a vow…

Next time we meet and recognize 
each other…
When I too take that voyage home

to the heavens...
I’ll be sure to take the time…
To know you better.
Rest well dear poet.

© 2010 Erin Woods
In the rainy days
   and through the days of sun
You were a child at play
a leaf, a tree, an eagle
  the sky
        a poet with visions to share

You were never too old to be young
How grand your wings must be
     fluttering through the halls of heaven
landing on a rainbow strand
    looking back at earth and saying
         with a Wintersong smile