This once was an empty hope chest,
All my wishes it was waiting to hold,
Now it keeps the things I love best,
As my life begins to unfold.
A hope chest holds things from the past,
It locks away secrets of when we wept,
And poems written to make memories last,
In my Mom's diary of thoughts she kept.
A porcelain doll, of which I was very fond,
My Grandma made her, with care and grace,
She had long hair, curly, blonde,
And a blue dress trimmed in white lace.
My hope chest holds everything I love,
Like old photographs that are looking worn,
And the wishes that I've dreamt of,
Ever since the day I was born.
My hope chest may hold new things,
Like a Valentine my first love sent me,
Maybe, eventually an engagement ring,
And the rose that won him my heart's key.
If there is a newborn on the way,
My hope chest will hold many things,
Like maybe, a baby blanket, someday,
A reminder of what life can bring.
A melody from yesteryear
Plays softly on the wind--
A mix of myrrh and honey,
A wistful sweet and bitter blend.
Fond memories of bygone days,
Of long departed friends.
Of hollyhocks and lilacs,
A reverie that never ends.
A vision of a one-room school
Set in a woodland glade--
Of children playing joyfully
There in a spreading oak tree's shade.
A farmer toiling in his field
Behind a horse and plow.
No air conditioned tractors
As modern farmers do it now.
A rustic, weathered, country church,
A Sunday morning bright
Glows fondly now in memory,
Bathed in nostalgia's hallowed light.
A barefoot boy with fishing pole
Beside a lazy stream.
A song in perfect harmony
Played in that golden summer dream.
Oh memories, sweet memories
Locked in my soul to stay.
Oh melody, sweet melody,
A haunting song of yesterday.
Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.
The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.
Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.
Under the oaks where we first kissed,
And made incessant late night love.
Is shaded with memories of great times,
That my heart and soul are so proud of.
Under the oaks where time stood still,
I held you many times in my arms.
Where light dappled in the gaps of leaves,
As I gave you, your first gold charm.
Under the oaks marks the place,
Where you rest to the end of days.
I visit your plot with my heart on my sleeve,
Asking why God took you away.
Evening softly pours down from the hills..
The birds quiet , I hear the old dog bark
Another day will soon be put to sleep
And again I will be alone in the dark
The scent of lilac now comes to me..
The breeze gentle as a baby's sigh
The old back porch a haven now
As I prepare myself to say goodbye
Never thinking it would be this way..
So many days without much meaning
Hearing the creak of the rocking chair
Now to the past my thoughts are leaning
THE SEASONS OF MY LIFE
In the Spring time I was blossoming,
The world was bright and new.
I learned to laugh annd cry and fight,
For what I knew was true.
That there`s a time to have your fun,
And there`s a time for work,
A time when we must learn to earn,
And value all life`s perks.
In Summer time I learned of life,
Of people and the world.
I learned that life`s a mixture,
Of experience, a whirl,
That sometimes life moves way too fast,
It should be sipped and savored,
Or else it plays out way too soon,
And loses all it`s flavor.
In Fall I learned acceptance,
That what must be will be.
It does no good to fuss and fret,
`Bout what was denied me;
For some it seems are richly blessed,
While others get the crumbs,
Who gets what is up to God,
From Whom all good things come.
Now Winter fast approaches,
And what`s important now,
Is what memories I`ll leave behind,
Who remembers me, --- and how.
For At This Age Contest by Nette Onclaud
KEEPING UP WITH THE DOW JONESES
These here are the indisputable facts
I was born on the right side of the tracks
WITH People who only smiled if their stocks or equity increased
If not they wouldn’t have minded becoming deceased
They had big cars, big bucks and big time class
With a million dollar house mortgaged up the a*s
Their children went to private schools in uniforms
With charming and well decorated dorms
I looked at their faces and wondered why I didn’t fit
That’s when the fire in my belly was originally lit
I had no desire to play with kids from private schools
Nor did I ever agree to obey by their rules
So one day I skipped over steel and these here are the facts
The people I found lived in tents, not even shanties or shacks
But they didn’t have to read Dow Jones in order to smile
And couldn’t care less about having Gucci type style
They smiled at things people ignore like little tykes at play
And somehow or other they AWOKE contented day after day
They had no stocks to watch fretfully fall or RESOUNDINGLY rise
And you could see the easiness in their gleaming eyes
That which I observed in them appealed to me a great deal
The wrong side people taught me how satisfied I could feel
They lived out of back-packs, antique cedar chests and sacks
So if you come a’looking for me I’ll be on the wrong side of the tracks
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
come kiss the frost
from off late apple themes
the carnival is coming into town
where everything is nothing that it seems
hitch up the pony,
take the surrey down.
Let's take the long way 'cross the summer bridge,
the one where first you dared to touch my hand,
I still love seeing sunsets from the ridge
and down below the colors are so grand.
the county fair is finer from up here
all candy apple reds and spinning beams
the zephyr through the pines is all we hear ,
a place to sit and contemplate our dreams
the fantasy is kinder than the truth
recall the ferris wheel at sweet sixteen,
let's share that secret summer of our youth
and go back home to cherish where we've been.
Drive across the country
Let imagination flow
Tumbleweed and flat lands
Reveal a western show
Mile markers pave the way
Across this land sublime
Wind blows through the car
On my arm sunshine
Generations of people
Spirits across the land
Occupy a history
Of faces in the sand
Deep inside our spirit
Adheres to our respect
This peaceful land of bounty
No one shall reject
Fresh cut grass lingers
The present rescinding more
Where old shacks and farms
Grasp our inner core
Land abound with wisdom
Dust has settled down
Enjoy driving the distance
See another town
The moon, pausing near her zenith,
On that balmy night in May,
Painted a warm, nocturnal landscape,
In varying shades gray.
A mockingbird insomniac,
With golden harp did play,
And serenade his lady love
With songs as bright as day.
A shy, retiring whip-poor-will
In some hidden, forest swale,
Intoned his lonely-heart refrain,
In a melancholy wail.
The gentle breeze, that washed my face,
Tasted honeysuckle sweet,
While silver dewdrops glistened,
On the grass beneath my feet.
Though my magic, childhood years have gone
On frightened wings of flight,
I treasure, in my reverie,
That enchanted full moon night.