This is my aunt--my mother's much-older sister, who lived from 1909 to 1996. She was a single working-girl in Texas from the late 1920's through the 1940's. Marrying at age 40, she continued with her secretarial career until retirement. Much like Emily Dickinson, she wrote poetry that was almost never seen by anyone. She typed the early ones and hand-wrote the later poems--most of them were on nice stationery paper. The first set was bound with a ribbon. Her poetry ranged from deeply philosophical to sentimental to whimsical: all intelligent and masterful in style.
I will be posting some of my favorites here, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
by Veneta Donaldson
Man's life is but a pattern here
That molds his own infinity
Beyond his laughter and his tear,
Deception and veracity.
Sometimes the pattern's mutable
And precious gain is lost to him;
Often opaque, insensible,
And all the hours are aimless, dim.
Perhaps but once within his soul
His life is clear as God's own star;
He sees ahead the final goal
And knows why mortal patterns are.
The following poems by Veneta Donaldson are included in this series:
- Akin to Prayer
- Tornado Town
- An Aquarelle
- His Mother's Prayer
- Reiteration
- Beauty
- Surely They Remember
- To N.J.D. and P.C. McC.
- I Saw Her Standing There
- I Often Wonder
- The Clock
- The Answer
- Old Houses
- Summer's Child
- Haven
- Within the Night
- The Darkened Hours
- They Told Me —
- In Memoriam
- Impasse
- Moment Exquisite
- Little Old Lady in Blue
- And Now I Keep My Promise
Additional poetry by Veneta Donaldson
- Picture of Autumn
- Time of Yule
- Faith Absolute
- God's Artistry
- The Language of Autumn
- Snow Flakes
- Glimpse of Spring
- I Watched a Star
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