By guys and Dolls Ill miss ya's blog: "A Private Corner"

DO YOU HAVE A MANUSCRIPT? IF YOUR INTERESTED IN PUBLISHING YOUR WORK, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CONTACT MY PUBLISHING CONSULTANT AT MY PUBLISHERS. YOUR VOICE IN PRINT IS YOUR LEGACY! CONTACT TRACIE THROUGH THE INFORMATION BELOW...TELL HER YOUR CHAT PAL MARCIE CAUDELL SENT YOU...MUCH LUCK....MUCH LOVE. Authorhouse.com

In the mist and through the winds we hear thier voices call "Never give up the fight".. For our lives we give for all Wheather in the years of Connolly or the year of Bobby Sands Be it the day of Bloody Sunday Brit cowardus did show to all the lands We struggle on and hear their voices we feel them in the winds "Remember US" when Britain leaves our land They called us "Fenian Bastards" Proud to be one I am Copyright 1990 Marcie Phagan Caudell

HER LIFE IN SEASONS You were born and it was spring the roses were bright red and wore just enough dew to glisten The sun had arisen and shaun the brightest in creation you were a little girl and it was summer sounds of laughter abounded the cool breeze blew through our hair and left the scent of jasmine lingering You were grownig into a lady and it was fall the leaves changing rapidly from green to red to brown The winter came , the trees were bare as my heart the chill came and cracked my soul and you were gone The sweet memories of you linger sweetly Copyright 2005 Marcie Caudell

Thine image ravages the body It doth paralize me and taketh away speech Mine heart doth plumit to the earth Mine knees to carry me not If thou hast knowledge of this Whilst thou dissuade my affection Or shall ye name my love sovereign Ye to cultivate my days I shall be a slave to your embrace Call my name virtuous For thee doth complete my being And I shall bestoe thee all my days If thee doth name my love nonsence The sun shalt not shine Nor the birds to sing Then shall the world be my trepedation COPYRIGHT 2006 Marcie Caudell

Passions fire implores me As doth the hyacinth of pastoral views The melancoly of his voice doth bequeath joy to my soul What mysteries....life doth guard from me I shall manifest with thee I am perplexed with thine very being I implore thee...a gentle touch of mine cheek Wilst thou woe me once more with thine intoxicating smile Or doth my interpretations beguile me Oft I dream of thy chamber ye have ensconced from me ye hath not granted thy invatation I doth lisp at thine door amid the darkness Sensations journey through mine limbs Thee doth provoke ecstacies essence Virtues I doth bequeath thee freely Summon mine heart to thee and it be yours Copyright 2006 Marcie Caudell