HOUSEBOAT SUMMER
Days were idly spent
in the lazy warmth of that houseboat summer
cares and worries forgotten
Drifting slowly on a raft
fingers dangling in the water
dozing in the afternoon's warmth
hot sun baking the skin
Skinny dipping in a hidden cove
laughing, diving, splashing
the coolness of the water
comforted burning skin
Tired by hot glistening sun, cool water
lulled by waves against the rocks
wind rustling through the trees
sleep and dreams soon took over
In the lazy warmth of that houseboat summer
days were idly spent
the houseboat, the lake was the world top 
CAN MAN
A ray from the early morning sun,
dances across the loading dock,
sliding between the slats,
into the eyes of the sleeping man.
He moves, groans, covers his head,
rolls back into his sleeping bag,
the sun brightening his hideaway.
He gives up, reaches for his pants,
pulls out a cigarette, and a bottle,
his morning has begun.
Struggling out from the dock,
picking up his stick, and bag,
he starts the day's rounds.
Leaving the bright sunlight,
he slips into a dark alleyway,
stepping over litter, avoiding a rat or two.
Pulling out his stick,
he digs in dumpsters,
searching for treasures
that can be hocked or sold.
His bag begins to fill up
with aluminum cans, bits of iron,
copper wiring, other recylables.
Towards days end, he sells his loot,
buys a burger, a bottle, cigarettes,
and heads for home beneath the dock.
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SUMMER NIGHTS
On warm summer nights
pin points of light
dance across the lawn
as children frolic
among the trees
catching fireflies.
Squeals of delight
mingle with the
drone of a million insects
pulsating in the sultry air,
bringing the night alive.
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COUNTRY MEMORIES
magnolias, gardenias, azaleas,
live oaks, bamboo, Spanish moss,
crepe myrtle, fig trees, flowers --
filling the yard.
snakes, chameleons, spiders,
mosquitoes, flies, ants, field
mice, cats -- inside and outside.
violet cologne, citronella, cattle feed,
slop jars, mildew, dampness,
rag weed, cow chips, moss --
odors wafting through the air.
cicadas, locust, mocking birds,
black birds, blue jays, owls,
oil wells, cows, chickens,
train whistles, thunder -- sounds
breaking the country stillness.
childhood memories of my
Grandparents farm.
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THE WALL
black granite
against the green
of summer's grass
a wall carrying
names of those
who fell in Vietnam
names
cut into stone's
blackness
friends
loved ones
touch the wall
remember
console
begin to heal
the spirits of
those listed are
felt by all who visit
bringing realization
of the sacrifices
the losses
even to those
who thought
they did not care
closing negative
ambivalent attitudes
ending innocence
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MOUNTAIN STILLNESS
Hundreds of stars twinkle, sparkle
against the velvet blackness of the sky
on the cold, clear moonless night.
No city lights, no city noise, no city smells,
just the mountain stillness.
Wind sighing through the trees,
creek water cascading over rocks,
crackling wood in a campfire,
the scream of a cougar, screech of an owl
the only sounds breaking the mountain stillness.
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BRACES AND BUBBLE GUM
Would you like to be beautiful in 18 months?
Or would you rather chew bubble gum?
That was the dilemma I faced one summer.
I enjoyed blowing bubbles, not minding
when the bubble popped and covered my face.
To be beautiful I would give up this pleasure,
that everyone else could still enjoy.
Soon I was seated in the dental office -
with fear and trepidation I waited -
the dentist came in - filled my mouth with wax-
then wires, and cement - hammered on my molars -
jerked on my bicuspids - gums bled -head ached.
Wires filled my mouth -
stretched across my teeth - tore at my tongue.
Soup and eggnogs became my diet -
bubble gum was no longer wanted.
In 18 months those braces made me beautiful -
the pain was soon forgotten because
bubble gum once again was mine.
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CHILDHOOD DREAMS
The mournful sounds of a steam engine whistle,
the clickity clack of wheels,
echoed through the night when the wind was right.
Miles from the railroad track,
these sounds brought dreams of adventure
to the child as she dozed through the night.
Freedom of spirit, a vagabond life,
these desires for an unrestricted way of life,
never came about - existing only in childhood dreams
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SNOW BOUND CABIN
Grey smoke plume rises from the chimney
of a snow bound cabin nestled against piney woods,
a blazing fireplace warms those inside.
Ice crystals shimmer, sparkle in the cold, crisp air.
Snow crunches under the feet of a lone deer,
the only sound breaking the silence.
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BULL RIDIN' MAN
In denim shirt and jeans of blue,
he strode up to the chute,
looked at the bull of brownish hue,
and climbed upon the brute.
Suddenly the gate sprung out,
from the chute they bounded,
cowboy and bull began their bout,
until the whistle sounded.
Upon the ground he fell,
the bull toward him ran,
clowns rushed out pell mell,
in time to save his can.
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THE GARDEN
The garden atop the hill
looks down upon a valley
Riotous masses of garden flowers
tumble down the brambles slope
joining checkerboard fields,
green piney woods on the valley floor
Water, cascading, tumbling from a dam
becomes a shiny, silver snake
curving through the valley
on its journey to the sea
A green-blue lake sparkles in the sun
as the valley reaches for distant mountains
cloaked in blue-gray mists
snow capped peaks disappear into the clouds
The garden atop the hill
looks down upon a valley
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BURNING LEAVES
Fall brings warm days,
cool crisp nights --
green leaves become
red, gold, orange
before falling to the ground --
to be raked into piles for
children to jump into --
afterwards the leaves are burned.
Gray plumes of smoke
lazily spiral upward,
the fragrance of burning
leaves fills the air --
reminding us that winder
will soon be here.
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Wyoming Haiku
grass, pine, yarrow, sage
Hog farms, sugar beets, feed lots
Wyoming perfume
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WYOMING
Some call it a barren, God-forsaken land
with lonely vistas of nothingness,
not fit for man or beast.
Others call it God's country,
because it brings quiet contemplation,
and fills the soul with peace.
Most times it appears to be buried in the past,
other times it seems to be growing too fast.
No matter what you feel, what you thing,
it is a gift from God - it is Wyoming.
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WYOMING WINDS
Some say the wind always blows in Wyoming,
and indeed it appears that this is true.
Trains blow off the tracks,
cars and trucks overturn,
trees bow down to meet the earth,
signs come off their posts.
Some say we'd be better off without the wind,
and indeed some days it appears this is true.
But summer days are cooled by breezes,
Chinook winds warm up winter's cold,
and chase away snow storm remnants
Wind bothers some people, depresses them,
others hardly notice it's there.
Some say that we'd be better off with the wind,
and indeed some days it appears that this is true.
But would Wyoming be Wyoming without the wind?
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WYOMING HAIKU TWO
fields of wild flowers
antelope, buffalo graze
Wyoming summer
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The Lady
Every morning she is sitting on the bench,
face turned toward the sun, eyes closed,
basking in the warmth from the rays.
She wears a scarf around her head,
Layers of sweathers and shirts
a long skirt, tall socks, sandals.
A plastic bag, small back pack,
are next to her on the bench,
and sometimes a book.
There is a regal bearing in her posture.
Who is she, where did she come from,
where does she spend her time
when not on the sunny corner?
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NOSTALGIA
I went back to visit
the school that I attended
from kindergarten through
all of high school
The smells were the same
wafting down the halls
from classrooms, open lockers,
science lab, gym, cafeteria, shop -
Chalk, paste, peanut butter, clay,
formaldehyde, sawdust, cabbage,
sweat, dirty socks - mingled into
memories, youthful dreams -
The years drained away,
voices of friends gone by
echoed in my head -
paraded through my mind -
as I walked the once familiar halls,
breathed in the never changing
smells of the school building
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PICNICS AND JUMP ROPES
The grassy commons next to the school
filled up with town folks
carrying folding tables, blankets,
lawn chairs, picnic baskets to be shared.
Tables soon overflowed with fried chicken,
potato salad, chocolate cake, ice cream -
kids and dogs raced among the tables,
as the adults readied the meal.
Visiting, gossiping, they finished the food.
Games and contests soon started up -
soft ball for some, badminton for others,
a tug-of-war, a 3 legged race, and best of all,
a jump rope contest for the kids.
The kids lined up -
each determined to win -
concentrating - they jumped
one by one, they fell aside
until only one was left -me!
a perfect ending to a small town picnic.
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THE SHORE
The air begins to smell of salt,
the dampness can be felt,
ocean glimpses soon appear.
Sandy, palmetto-dotted dunes
break the view.
On the other side
wide, white sand beaches
reach for the sea.
Waves swell and roll,
lapping at the shore,
moving sand, leaving shells,
sometimes a jelly fish or two.
Shore birds dart along the beach,
sea gulls swoop down for food,
a pelican sits nearby watching.
Fishermen cast out to sea,
children splash at water's edge,
swimmers bob among the waves.
A warm, lazy summer day at the shore.
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SILVER CANOE
The silver canoe moves silently across the lake,
the splash of the paddles the only sound
as an alligator glides slowly past.
The canoe slips into a jungle like canal,
hidden by flowers cascading from the bank above.
Trees laden with Spanish Moss hang low over the
water, brush against the canoe.
Rays from the morning sun dance across the water as
the silver canoe moves from the canal into a still lake.
Mangroves rise from the water.
Weaving through them,
the canoe disappears into a hidden cove.
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Sunflowers
I'm ridin' down a country lane,
among fields of gold,
majestic on tall green stems,
faces turned toward the sky,
sunflowers bow in the wind.
My eyes water, nose runs --
I sneeze and sneeze and sneeze.
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THE WANDERER
A colorful cloak across his shoulders,
jaunty cap atop his head,
his world on his back,
he wanders.
Sometimes alone,
sometimes with others.
A happy soul,
a talented artist,
making friends as he goes.
Hitchhiking,
hopping a freight,
sometimes catching a bus.
Selling his art work,
buying food,
cigarettes,
booze,
sometimes a ride,
or a room.
Sleeping by the tracks,
in a cemetery,
on a river bank.
He wanders,
sometimes alone,
sometimes with others.
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Virginia's Drawings
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Biography: Virginia Sellner was born in Baton Rouge, Lousisana and grew up in Norris, Tennessee. She graduated from Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida. Following college she worked in Tokyo, Japan as a civilian employee of the U. S. Army attached to the 1st Cavalry Division. She met her husband while stationed in Japan. They have 3 grown sons and 3 grandchildren. In 1968, the Sellners moved to Cheyenne from Alexandria, Virginia. She volunteered with Cub Scouts, Hospital Auxiliary, and church groups after moving to Cheyenne. Since 1980 she has worked for a variety of agencies working with the poor and homeless and is currently the Director of the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless. She started writing poetry in 1995. Her poems have been published in the Journal - Serendipty Poets of Cheyenne; High Plains Register (LCCC); Fence Post; Spare Change; Street Beat Quarterly; Burnside Cadillac; StreetViews, The Book and The Magazine; Feeling Trees, on line magazine; Wyozine, on line publication; and a variety of poetry collections. She published her chap book Reflections in 1998. top
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