The Collected Poems Of Winnie H. Riddle
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Evening
A curtain of rose and purple and gold,
Hangs low in the western sky.
The sun disappears behind it,
Then shadows steal softly nigh.
From the pasture the sheep come to the fold,
In the shed, the cattle low.
Downy birds twitter in their nests
And soft little breezes blow.
A star trembles high in the purple sky,
The tired child leaves his play.
And flowers close their pretty eyes,
It is the end of the day.
In the window, now a candle light burns,
On the hearth the fire glows.
The good man comes home from his work,
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About the Book
I, James Skipper, have carefully recopied Winnie H. Riddle's poems from the drafts that my mother retyped and then saved and my desire as her grandson, is to now make these poems available to others who may enjoy reading about the things that influenced her enough to make note of.
About the Author
During the Depression Era years, my grandfather worked for the railroad and had to live at wherever location his job needed him to be. Sometimes, he had to work in different towns other than his regular place of residence which was located in Syracuse, Indiana. My mother and her sister, the last siblings of a seven children family still living at home, stayed in Syracuse with their grandparents during that time as they were still attending high school. My grandmother would stay with my grandfather for a week or so and then return home and stay with my mother and her sister, about the same length of time. It was during this time, in the late 1920’s and early 1930’s, that she penned the following poems. My grandmother’s married name was Winnie Riddle and that is how she signed, as author, many of her works. She didn’t have a middle name, so sometimes in other poems, that she wrote, she would sign her name as Winnie H. Riddle. The ‘H’ standing for her maiden name, which was Holloway. Some of these poems were published in the local newspaper during the time they were written, which was known as the Syracuse/Wawasee Journal. However, they never reached notoriety beyond those publications. As my grandmother completed writing and then editing each poem to it’s final draft, my mother would then re-type them for her. My mother kept these poems in safe storage through the years, even after my grandmother’s death in 1966.