TIJUANA CHILDREN DREAM
Once in time in the sunlight land south of the border and the Rio Grande, a heart could turn to the children at play where laughter was sweet as dawn of day….
Margaret Roxby was an award-winning poet published internationally in poetry magazines and anthologies, in addition to her two chapbooks, Glass Rain, Golden Rain and Medley. She was a fellow with the World Poetry Society International, local chapter board member of the National League of American Pen Women, and active in the California Federation of Chapparal Poets. She was included in the World Who’s Who of Women, Yearbook of Modern Poetry (1971), and International Who’s Who in Poetry (1971-1973). Margaret was often requested to speak on poetry and to present book reviews to local organizations. Her favorite quote was, “God, you have been good to me. You gave me a love of poetry.”
Margaret also dabbled in prose publishing articles in the Sunday supplement for the Long Beach Independent-Press Telegram newspaper, Los Fierros, a publication of the Los Cerritos Docents. She had a long running column for LBCC General Adult Division newsletter. She authored several more articles, short stories and a science fiction novel.
Margaret was a native of West Virginia where she worked through the 1930’s depression as a typist/clerk typing 200+ wpm. After marriage and the start of WW2, she moved with her husband to Long Beach, California where she worked several years as a secretary. Margaret served several years as a Camp Fire Girls leader and was elected the area’s PTA representative to the state-wide convention. When her son was ready for pre-school, she enrolled in LB City College studying psychology and later creative writing with Alice Wright, founder of a popular, long-running writers’ conference hosted in Long Beach.
Once in time in the sunlight land south of the border and the Rio Grande, a heart could turn to the children at play where laughter was sweet as dawn of day….
There was the soundless plunge of the round midnight ember splitting cloud-carved marble….
Are poets superheroes?
The tale of how the “helpful” son ruined his mother’s social tea.
Let me go out some sudden day…To that perfect peace the still ones know….
Melpomene, the muse of song and subsequently tragedy. Where does she come to sing?
We like to believe that we are too sophisticated for superstition
only….
Often now when the sun goes down a sadness comes to touch my heart. I think of our tender yesterday—
A vein pulses at your temple—it signals….
There is a liberation when the green stem stretches….