Rosemary C. Wilkinson


Rosemary Regina Challoner Wilkinson is a award-winning contemporary poet. She is Honorary President of World Academy of Arts and Culture / World Congress of Poets (served as Secretary General then President from 1994-2003).

Rosemary C. Wilkinson wrote her first poem at age 14, served 10 years hospital administration, reared 4 children. When President Kennedy was shot she wrote her 2nd poem; from then on she could not stop the poetry flowing. She is the author of 22 poetry books, some of wich is translated into 38 languages. Her prose works include AN HISTORICAL EPIC translated into Mandarin (published in NEW LITERATURE, Taipei) and biography of EPIC OF THE SHIP'S CAPTAIN / ARTIST.

Wilkinson was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, reared in New York and San Fransisco, presently residing in the Foothills of mighty Sierra Nevada Mountains, northeast of San Francisco, writing her 40 year literary career autobiography titled POET: UPLIFT MANKIND.

1. Take a Walk With Me

Here at 3,000 feet in foothills of the
Sierra Nevada mountains, let us walk along
paths of 100 feet cedars, pines, black oaks,
Chinese pistache, crepe myrtle, low madrone,
manzanita, mountain misery, mid sparse homes.

Traveling down to Placerville feast
the splendor of purple lupine, daffodils,
jonquils, peeping up, with forsythia,
scotch broom plentiful spreading
over green hills to pink, white dogwood, galore.

Yes, this is Spring blooming out in full glory
we yearn for when winter slips, Spring is totally here.

April 8, 2007, 2:53 P.M.

2. We Came To See...

(VA Hospital)

We came to see where injured soldiers
walk limping, some in wheel chairs,
came to see agony they grimace
when sitting, as if in pain,
yes, we came to see, learned of a noble courag'ing.

If not among so many others waiting a turn
to hobble into M.D. visits, lab exams,
surgery, eye, ear, nose, frosted toes
repair; I would hide my face in book and
let a tear or two run down between as I look.

So I search for some solace, midst all of this, like
Chesterton viewing Botticelli's "Mystic Nativity"
in National Gallery to sooth hurt in my heart,
in these chaotic times, for some happiness,
like heaven, on the day we celebrate our Christmas.

Feb 11, 2007, 7:45 P.M.

3. Miracle of Order in Creation

Wind blows swiftly falling oak leaves
at my feet as I rustle through them
deep breathing this December air as new
storm drives close - birds fly to cover
in all this splendor and glory I feel uplifted, mind and spirit.

Oh! the wonder of the Lord of faithfulness and love, I say
as I look about these sky-tall pines yielding majesty of God
and seeing dignity in human beings, though alone, yes,
in all of nature I see God's goodness for when beholding
beauty and love it is as if I have arrived already in heaven.

December 8, 2006, 7:35 P.M.

4. This Is The Moment

This is the moment
when I see the dull sky
sprinkle pure white flakes
bending ponderosa pines fifty feet tall
creating a dripping "in tune"
as the sun shines through.
I smell the clean air, inhaling deep
within me, as I touch covered leaves
of flowers frozen, no longer to breathe
fragrance stifled by cleansing thereof,
imbuing soft stillness, I feel,
bringing peace within.

© Rosemary C. Wilkinson