Posted by: penpatience | December 1, 2017


WRITERS WORDS: “I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.”-James Michener




     Once upon a time there was a young girl named Margaret Ellen Weldon. One of ten children, she was born in Indian Territory, now the state of Oklahoma. The daughter of a farmer and rancher, she grew up with a great knowledge and appreciation of nature.  Called “Marge,” she began writing in her high school years, but writing was put on hold after marrying a railroad engineer and moving to Nevada where she raised two sons.

     Marge became a member of our family when her son married my sister and over the years she became a proud grandma of two granddaughters and two grandsons. Later, during her retirement years, Marge moved again to a ranch in Oregon where she resumed writing.

     Time passed. When Marge’s husband died; she sold the Oregon ranch and moved to Phoenix, Arizona to be near her only surviving son and grandchildren. One day, and it was only by chance, my sister was helping her elderly mother-in-law with household chores when she opened a bureau drawer and discovered saved snippets of prose and poetry Marge had written and collected over many years. Enthralled with the find, Michelin and Marge ditched the housework that day and after reading many poems decided they were good enough for publication.

     Marge named the poetry collection, “Random Thoughts,” and her book of poetry, published in 1989, won the Silver Poet Award from the World of Poetry. Her son, Jim, escorted Marge to Sacramento, California where she accepted the award. She was 85 years old.


There will be peace when all is still;

      No Life exists upon the hill,

Nor in the Valleys or Ocean deep

The sun shines on no time to keep.


No records show the winds that blow,

      The rain that falls, or depth of snow.

Ages may roll and leave no trace of the human race,

Upon this earth, or out in space.


Laughing waters may abound,

     No ears exist, there is no sound.

No songs to greet the coming spring,

There are no birds, their songs to sing.


Seasons come and seasons may go,

     There is no one to reap, no one to sow;

No bombs to burst forth in the sky;

No hearts to bleed, no eyes to cry.


No bells to ring on Christmas Day

No happy children’s voices say

     “Merry Christmas!”

For silence reigns upon the hill,

And there is Peace; stark Peace.

     Oh, Peace be still.

Random Thoughts – Dedication Excerpt:

“I dedicate this collection of poems to my parents for their work, love and devotion to the home where they brought up ten children; and for the privilege of growing up in a free and creedless atmosphere—where on festive occasions I enjoyed both my grandfathers who fought in the Civil War, one on the North, the other on the South, and see them gleefully watch their grandchildren skip to the tunes of Yankee Doodle and Dixie Land, and to my children and grandchildren for their effort to provide homes, where inquiring minds are not afraid to ask questions or seek answers.” –Margaret E. Weldon, Glendale Arizona, November 1989

Marge Weldon died in a warm Arizona winter in the year 2000. She was 94 years old and left her family cherished memories and an enduring love of nature.

Merry Christmas and a Happy and Safe New Year!





  1. So nice to read about Ms. Weldon. Well done, Frances! Best of holidays to you!


    • Thanks Carole, Happy Holidays to you and yours.


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