Unfinished poem
Storms thundered, howled, screamed
and slammed the cabin's outer walls,
but he cared not for the snow piled high
and none for the winter squalls.
He paid his debt to those he owed
for his trespass,or so he thought,
but a fire blazed within his eyes.
a fire incensed and burning hot.
"Go back" the wind whispered,
to when life was filled with simplicity,
but his mind could not convince his
soul of the need for urgency.
Kickin the words down the road
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Sweeping over
She Swept
Day and night she swept ,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a little bit of hope
for her husband was no more.
Monday was laundry day,
so she hung laundry on the line
telling neighbors she was OK;
they thought she was looking fine.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a speck of dignity
beyond the safety of her door.
Tuesday was market day,
and the few coins she held near,
were not enough for what she needed;
she clenched them tight in fear.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
retreating into her little world
with little hope of having more.
Wednesday was a special day,
as she sat mumbling at his graveside,
telling how she'd spent the years
saying she would live until she died.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
but now she was getting weary
of pushing dust underneath the door.
Thursday passed in a foggy blur
as she swept the floor once more
and she strained to remember his face
but her eyes were tired and sore.
Clutching a broom in her hands,
Friday found her lying on the floor
with gold coins scattered everywhere,
and the sleeping widow swept no more.
mg
Day and night she swept ,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a little bit of hope
for her husband was no more.
Monday was laundry day,
so she hung laundry on the line
telling neighbors she was OK;
they thought she was looking fine.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor
looking for a speck of dignity
beyond the safety of her door.
Tuesday was market day,
and the few coins she held near,
were not enough for what she needed;
she clenched them tight in fear.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
retreating into her little world
with little hope of having more.
Wednesday was a special day,
as she sat mumbling at his graveside,
telling how she'd spent the years
saying she would live until she died.
Day and night she swept,
night and day she swept the floor,
but now she was getting weary
of pushing dust underneath the door.
Thursday passed in a foggy blur
as she swept the floor once more
and she strained to remember his face
but her eyes were tired and sore.
Clutching a broom in her hands,
Friday found her lying on the floor
with gold coins scattered everywhere,
and the sleeping widow swept no more.
mg
Thursday, May 2, 2013
It's Late
It's late, the lights are out save one;
its streams uncover my thoughts,
and I know I should be sleeping
but memories stir like fine mist.
In foggy past, school bells ring
calling the curious to their door
but I languish beside a rushing stream
where currents play and sing.
My neighbor throws his book away
as soon as school lets out,
but somewhere in the distance
he hears the echoes of learning.
I lay on the earth midst sun flowers
closing my eyes while sipping beauty
and the sun gently kisses my face
reminding me, I'm never alone.
Embracing warmth upon my face
while cool breezes caress my hair,
I desire a return to childhood days
when the world was right side up.
When the moon comes out of hiding
I am two dozen miles down the road,
but it seems like a short distance
from my youth to the present time.
It's quiet in this meadow of mine
as I turn back for one last look
hearing nature sigh in whispers
singing songs I've long forgotten.
It's late, all lights are out save one;
its streams cover over my thoughts,
painting meadows and sunflowers
amidst noise of rolling thunder.
It's late, the lights are out save one;
its streams uncover my thoughts,
and I know I should be sleeping
but memories stir like fine mist.
In foggy past, school bells ring
calling the curious to their door
but I languish beside a rushing stream
where currents play and sing.
My neighbor throws his book away
as soon as school lets out,
but somewhere in the distance
he hears the echoes of learning.
I lay on the earth midst sun flowers
closing my eyes while sipping beauty
and the sun gently kisses my face
reminding me, I'm never alone.
Embracing warmth upon my face
while cool breezes caress my hair,
I desire a return to childhood days
when the world was right side up.
When the moon comes out of hiding
I am two dozen miles down the road,
but it seems like a short distance
from my youth to the present time.
It's quiet in this meadow of mine
as I turn back for one last look
hearing nature sigh in whispers
singing songs I've long forgotten.
It's late, all lights are out save one;
its streams cover over my thoughts,
painting meadows and sunflowers
amidst noise of rolling thunder.
Before you Know it
He placed 70 candles on her cake,
lighting each one with a smile,
and he heard her singing a little tune
Before you know it, you'll be old.
Around the door he peeped
he saw the brush glide through her hair,
her tresses blazed like polished silver
and he knew she would never be old.
To him, she was still the little girl
with raven braids and crooked teeth
swinging so high in a homemade swing,
he could not see her as old.
Her floral dress brought memories
of a school prom so long ago
where he reminded her of his undying love;
oh no, she would never grow old.
He mused how life takes you to the edge
of eternity and suspends you there
with the choicest pearl in all the world
she, who still adores him with her eyes.
He watched as she blew out the candles
and then she sang a little tune,
Before you know it, you'll be old
but we're lucky to be so young.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Enjoy yourself
Come in my friend, and dine with
folk
who live in mansions beyond the tower,
though you are not one of the elite
enjoy yourself as the man of the hour.
who live in mansions beyond the tower,
though you are not one of the elite
enjoy yourself as the man of the hour.
The candles glow like fine new
wine
caressed and held in Waterford crystal,
you must come in and enjoy yourself
before the evening meal grows dismal.
Old Herbert baked a fancy cake
caressed and held in Waterford crystal,
you must come in and enjoy yourself
before the evening meal grows dismal.
Old Herbert baked a fancy cake
filled with chocolate so I'm
told,
Kennealy roasted his favorite cow;
enjoy before the feast grows cold.
Kennealy roasted his favorite cow;
enjoy before the feast grows cold.
Twelve people sit round the elegant
table
and not one raised his fork til now,
and not one raised his fork til now,
but they will eat dessert cake first
for Kennealy, burnt the cow.
MG
Monday, April 1, 2013
Come out of the cave
Come out into the light and bask
in sunlight on a warm summer day,
for it's dark where you live and shadowy
and I want you to come out and play.
You may think someone blocked the light,
but it's locked right behind your own eyes
for the secret that kept you inside your cave,
is wrapped tightly in a bundle of lies.
Indeed, you are not defined by the cave
or defined by the shadows that scheme,
for you have a soul made of spirit
and a heart that wants to be clean.
So, come out of the cave and be seen.
Come out into the light and bask
in sunlight on a warm summer day,
for it's dark where you live and shadowy
and I want you to come out and play.
You may think someone blocked the light,
but it's locked right behind your own eyes
for the secret that kept you inside your cave,
is wrapped tightly in a bundle of lies.
Indeed, you are not defined by the cave
or defined by the shadows that scheme,
for you have a soul made of spirit
and a heart that wants to be clean.
So, come out of the cave and be seen.
Princess Power
She ruled over everyone around her,
she commanded all those in sight,
a narcissist ruled her own little world,
and demands preceded her day and night.
How unfortunate she became a mother,
for she had no concern; none that could last,
and they grew more distant as her son grew
for she couldn't control him as in the past.
He dared to stand up and that wouldn't do
for she was a princess and he was a peasant
created to perform all her verbal commands,
she'd show him, and it wouldn't be pleasant.
What could she do to make his life miserable
she pondered alone in her room that day,
to bend and shape him to her selfish will?
Oh, but she would find a way to make him pay.
Her goal was to bring him home on his knees
so she took his money, and his Christmas gift
and she would not, could not call it stealing,
but it gouged a new wound and widened the rift.
He was wounded by her wicked schemes
as she turned her back on him that crucial hour,
but he knew her better than anyone else
and he determined to escape her power.
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