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    Just Beyond View
    Just Beyond View
    Just Beyond View
    Ebook98 pages31 minutes

    Just Beyond View

    By Marilyn Stacy

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Marilyn Stacy has a knack for seeing beyond what most of us see, a knack enhanced by her years as a family counselor. Not only do her poems give us a glimpse of other dimensions—like astral travel and lucid dreaming—but they delve the layers of the human psyche in poignant and/or humorous understatement.
    ~~Barbara Blanks, Executive Board of Poetry Society of Texas, and author of Traveling Sideways, plus five other books.

    In "Just Beyond View," Marilyn Stacy takes us on a journey in verse through time and place where lines between real and imaginary are undefined, unnecessary, through past, present and future, all the way to heaven’s gate, where a keg of nails becomes a testimonial. Marilyn reminds us, promises us, we’re never alone. What an uplifting read!
    ~~Robert Schinzel, author of Into the Fire–A Cop’s View in Verse
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLulu.com
    Release dateJun 21, 2019
    ISBN9780359741595
    Just Beyond View

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      Book preview

      Just Beyond View - Marilyn Stacy

      Just Beyond View

      Just Beyond View

      Prize Winning Poems

      by

      Marilyn Stacy

      Copyright 2019 by Marilyn Stacy

      All Rights Reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any way without

      written permission from the author, except for reviewers who

      may quote brief passages in a review.

      ISBN 978-0-359-74159-5

      Other books by Marilyn Stacy:

      Poetry:

      Along the Path

      Dreams…and other altered states of consciousness

      Sometimes You Have to Laugh…a poet’s look at cancer

      Inside the Glow

      Non-fiction:

      Beyond the Horizon…travels through consciousness

      The author may be contacted at: stacymarilyn@gmail.com

      Special thanks to Barbara Blanks for her helpful editorial suggestions and technical assistance in completing this book.

      For Susan, Mike, Scott, Robert, James,

      Allison, Pam, Sang, and Mary

      Explain This

      Now that there’s time to do all the things

      I never had time for, I can’t remember

      what they were.

      Surprise Message   

      It was one of those thank God July mornings—

      still cool at eleven—when I started my walk.

      I picked up some nails in the street, like always,

      to keep folks from getting flat tires.

      The Roche Sisters were singing Hallelujah

      on my Walkman and I was singing along with them,

      then right in the middle of Lord of Lords

      a beat-up old van weaving down the street

      jumped the curb, and bang! Next thing I knew,

      I was at a kind of terminal, with long lines

      of people dragging baggage along.

      A tall, skinny kid pulled up in a motor cart, said hop on,

      and we zipped right to the front of the line,

      where an old man in a long brown robe

      and a gold fishing hat sat at a roll-top desk

      near a fancy gate. Peter! He shuffled through papers,

      pulled out a shiny golden key from a drawer,

      gave it to me and waved me on through.

      I don’t have to wait? I raised my eyebrows.

      He pointed to a keg of nails by the gate.

      You helped lots of folks you didn’t even know.

      You’re a poet. Think symbolism. Think metaphor.

      He glanced at the line, then back. Anything else?

      There was one more thing. I asked him to send

      my story down to earth, to maybe help people

      get to the front of the line when they come up.

      He said he would, but folks that think

      they already know everything won’t believe it.

      I took the key, thanked him,

      and danced through the gate.

      I’ve done all I can do.

      The rest is up to you.

      It’s irrational, but…

      Despite my aversion

      to superstitious thought,

      synchronicities

      have begun to occur—

      daily, hourly—in my life.

      People

      I haven’t heard from in months

      call me instantly

      when I think of them.

      Answers to questions

      cascade upon me

      almost before I can ask them.

      Yesterday

      as I retrieved

      the morning paper

      from the bushes,

      something

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