With shining eyes, the prettiest
advances leading all the rest.
She skips with glee beneath blue skies,
the prettiest with shining eyes.
The second, with a warming smile,
comes dressed in lace, and all the while
she lithely romps beneath the sun
with warming smile, the second one.
And woebegone, the daughter third,
walks, scowling, speaking not a word.
She trudges slowly on and on -
the daughter third and woebegone.
Now comes along a steadfast son
whose sauntering seems never done.
He perseveres though winds be strong.
A steadfast son now comes along.
The second boy along the trail
has charity, which does not fail.
He renders aid and brings sweet joy
along the trail, the second boy.
Another son, now onward pressed,
endures although fatigued and stressed.
He's labored much and cannot run,
now onward pressed, another son.
At course's end, a daughter fair
who rests - lets down her golden hair.
Most cheerful, tender, gracious friend,
the daughter at the course's end.
(Please click on "About Poem" to see the
fortune-telling nursery rhyme this is based on.)
For Francine Roberts'
children in rhyme Poetry Contest
Come let me rock you gently
and as we softly sway
I'll share with you a story
and rock your cares away.
In the years that I have known
there has been much I've seen
the big "to do's" the nothing days
and all those in between.
To all I've offered comfort
and a quiet place to rest
I've rocked my share of little ones
(oh, how I love them best!).
A very tender memory
of all those that I hold
is one of love and caring
that now is growing old.
A Grandma and a little girl
placed firmly on her knee
would for hours sit and play
and we would rock so free!
The laughter in their voices
(to which I'd add a creak!)
would fill my day with pleasure
and with pure joy I'd squeak!
Oh how I loved the songs they sang
and the games they played
and all the Bible stories told
when we were all so staid.
How glad I was to share it all
we were a happy set
this is my sweetest memory
(the best one I've had yet!).
Now as our time is winding down
(it's nearly at an end!)
I bid you please come back and sit
when you have time to spend.
Together we will gently sway
and stories will unfold
and I will rock your cares away
as each new one is told.
Inspired by Deborah Guzzis' The Chairs Tale contest
I asked what’s worse than death,
You say people that help you survive.
You say: “ I don’t feel anything anymore.”
You make every one out to be your enemy,
But your enemy itself is you!
You say that none of us care,
When it’s you that don’t care.
You say that none of us love you,
When it’s you that doesn’t love yourself.
You say you have a very empty feeling,
When you are the only one that can fill it.
You say we broke you down emotionally,
When it was you, yourself who did it,
By not talking about the things that bothered you.
You say: “ I can’t go on.”
When you know you can, with help, make it.
You feel sorry for yourself,
When you should feel sorry for those who love you.
You only think of yourself and you don’t
See the suffer in the eyes of other.
To me she died a few days ago.
To me you are a total stranger.
My heart is struck with sorrow
For the monster she become destroyed
Everything good that’s left.
To me you are a nobody,
Because she would never have done
What sorrow you did.
To me you don’t exist,
For she would never destroy
What’s good in life.
If only she could be here,
She would clean up the destruction
If she was here
She would have thought of us and never
Cause so much sorrow.
You know time choose you,
You can not choose time.
For time and place and how
Is special itself.
Why put yourself through so much,
Pain, when it is not your time to go.
Where is home: heaven, earth or hell,
How would you know?
You sound and act so pathetic,
She would never have done that.
Why should I feel sorry for you.
It is only you, you care about.
I’ll rather weep for the person you hide
Just to become a self-conscious monster
When it’s only you that can stop.
The night approaches me again and you're not here still with me
And here under my breath I call your name and I watch your loving face
And there among the dark shadows you'll come back again the same
I hear your haunting tune and I know that you'll be waitin' this time for me.
Release me from all this pain I'm sufferin "Come to me"and just take my hand
Hold me in your arms so tight and please never ever let me again go
Together we'll dream of that other time and fly away to that magical time band
There is no other place like this in heaven or earth where our love can only but glow.
Join me here tonight,hear my voice into the night and just be mine for all time
Come to me right now and give me all your love before the night is carried away
Let me kiss your lips,caress and love you all night til we both see a brand-new day
Disperse all the dark shadows in which I exist,come to me and be mine for all times.
Dorian Petersen Potter
July 18, 2010
This poem amongt many others that I'd written in my life,had been inspired by
my very favorite and most beloved vampire character of all time,
"Barnabas Collins" from the most popular daytime soap opera series ever
produced on T.V. in my opinion, "Dark Shadows." This whole DVD collection is most
And Jonathan Frid is so awesome!
I'm still waiting
How much time has elapsed
Think I'll read
While I'm waiting
I just read a chapter
I do believe my call is being answered
No, a voice on a machine echoes
"Your call will be taken in the order in which it was received"
What number caller was I
Probably the 1000th caller
I'll touch up my manicure
While I'm waiting
I'm still waiting
I smudged my polish on one nail
Wonder If I have time to fix it
Before they break their necks to take my call
They must be averaging one call every ten minutes
I'll continue reading
Another chapter done
I'm still waiting
He remembers when his many bolts
weren't ringed in rust,
and his seams weren't blackened
with years of grime and dust.
The post upon which he sat
was gray and weathered now,
and had become just slightly
west of plumb somehow.
The screw that held his little flag
had long ago come loose,
chipped and faded, no longer red,
it was of little use.
The driveway that he guarded
was dirt and deeply sloped,
and halfway down it gently curved
around a massive oak.
Now some might think that he'd be bored,
stuck there night and day,
but he found entertainment
in the things that came his way.
He pondered long and hard on things
before making up his mind,
there was no hurry, he reasoned,
when all you have is time.
He carefully watched a nest of ants
both day and night for weeks,
before he reached the conclusion
that ants must never sleep.
He marveled at the seasons
and loved both sun and snow,
but sometimes he felt beaten down
when the wind-whipped rain would blow.
He loved the feel of bird feet
when they used him as a perch,
and when a truck would rumble by
he'd feel his spirit lurch.
He delighted in the field mice,
and wept with the mourning doves,
was suspicious of the furry raccoons,
with their masks and leather gloves.
Though days and months and years went by,
and he was oft ignored,
his life of perfect stillness
was itself a rich reward.
So as we hurtle past him,
with our tires spitting rocks,
perhaps we could learn something
from our stoic old mailbox.
As I sit in my window sill.
Relaxed no thrill.
Time goes by, but it seems the world stands still.
I sit and gaze .
By the beauty that sits in front of me.
The stars winks at me, twinkles and dance.
So magnificant I saw in watch in a trance.
The love I felt between us must be true romance.
But suddenly it fades.
It fades so quickly and with little warning.
Because within a few moments it will soon be morning.
So sadly it leaves, but leaves with a kiss of delight.
The wind whispers its goodbyes and promise to return tomorrow night.
The unwritten lyrics swarm in my head like a hornets nest, the studio is silent. The microphone taunts me in it's little square box, but it waits for a time when we can talk in private.
I hear the instrumental get louder from the twist of a knob. The song wrote its self as my head starts to bob. I cram into the booth and close the door with confidence. That I will come out feeling new and get praised with compliments.
I get loud with excitement and shake hands with my buddies. Hope that I can continue this hobby, but we see no money.
I made music for years not thinking what my future entailed. All my friends will understand when its time to set sail.
We have low quality equipment and no food for our stomachs. We grow into men and instead of friends, we are now distant cousins.
Yamaha impressed me the first time I laid eyes on her glistening blond maple wood, her stylish body details, her long fretted mother-of-pearl inlay; lobed with golden keys. Her voice called to me the first time I held her in my arms. I strummed her six strings slowly in the key of G, then moved softly to D and C. All the while, I searched earnestly for her purity in sound quality and style. She was not the most beautiful in the showroom. But oh yes! She did flatter me with her musical presence. She was beautiful to me! I knew from that moment on she would be mine for eternity.
Within the hour, I took her home to meet the family. She was shy on the journey, not making a sound; perhaps due to this being her first automobile ride or simply wanting to see a world she was now a part of. Yamaha was cased in alligator leather, a brown dressing which was stylish for the day. We were both nervous as we arrived and got out of the car. My strong caressing grip on her handle assured her she wouldn’t fall and it would be alright. She knew it would be alright as I smiled at her.
I opened the door, allowing her to enter first. When in the living room, I called to everyone to come meet the newest member of the family. Dad was taken by her simple yet elegant beauty and style. Mom touched her first and she was most pleased. At that moment I realized the importance of first impressions as Mom marveled at how pretty she was. I sat down in the best chair in the living room while Mom listed to Yamaha talk and I sang a popular country love song. I was pleased with the family acquaintance to Yamaha. It was evident she had become a part of the family.
The first few weeks, I couldn’t keep Yamaha out of my arms. I longed to be with her every minute of the day. In my eye, she made me smile by just gazing upon her. I fumbled with her in those beginning days. She ignored my elementary attempts at refinery and permitted me the time to catch up to her mastery rather than bow down to my level. Like any two lovers, both must reach to the need of the other. Only then is love truly in harmony.
Today, Yamaha is not the young glistening blond I held in my arms some thirty years removed. Her wood has been scared by my love to play her. She has received countless face lifts which cover her tainted mother-of-pearl. Her brown leather case dress stands in need of a seamstress care. But as with all things having been learned through love, we now make beautiful music together. She is my treasure, a light into my soul's well. She amplifies my inner being. As I perform, she is glorified. We have grown old together,and gotten better in time. I still hold her in my arms day by day as this lover has risen to her grace and expectations. She is my treasure for a life time.
Wade through the lake’s water so shallow,
A woman & a man hands entwined like a gallow.
Wade did she,
Wade did he.
Above their necks the furious waters rose,
Trod they together steps softly with no morose,
Spellbound they moved without a care,
Deeper and deeper where no one would dare.
Trod they further unto the middle they reached,
Realized she now an early vow she had breached,
No further she could wade,
But bitter memories afar refrained they to fade.
Drifting by now so weak was she,
So clasped them eyelids so all she could see was he,
A time came on when a boat roared by,
A wave it created ,it washed her eyes.
The heady din grown a was peaking,
Alas! Her dream was at an end that she was seeking.
The fingered band, beacon it began,
A time had come her life to regain.
Realized, she that moments spent in love,
Will fly away now like the dove.
Struck her like a bolt to her love away,
Will he take me home today?
Guessed she by now that the time was over for her space,
And on the pathway her love left behind in a cold place.
A now thinks she that dwells in another dimension,
Poor man left aghast to brood and fate too cruel to mention.
Ghastly her act ,in all this land had never been,
People shun now the disheartened lover whenever he be rarely seen.
Stares does he strangely at the door,
For he believes that the path will bring her once more…