Details |
Matt Bradford Poem
There I sit in the light
During the darkness of the day
Making my concessions known
To the One on the right
Who has shown me the might
By which has replenished this, this battered soul
There is a face that I know
Of locks streaming free
For whom, for whom so many tears fell
In that light where I sit
In the comfort of the One
Who can, Who can for this one make it well
How sweet the sound
Of a love beyond compare
Relieving the fears of a wretch like me
There will be many dangers, toils and snares
There will be down right dissapointment
Over those things beyond our reach
I want to grab you and hold you
In that place so precious where
We've been brought through safe thus far
Across the fields of grace
There I see up ahead a ways
The band dressed in blue, white and red
Being dimmed by a worldly haze
In a place found with favor from up above
I see the band by whom their being led
She reminds me of things to come
Copyright © Matt Bradford | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Matt Bradford Poem
He stands there in his hallowed halls
Looking over the crowds
Meet me on the field of legends below the Tower
And he sees the colorful star
Looks him up and down
He sees a little of himself in number eleven's frown
Looking for the next dreamer to wake up
And make some memories before his day of destiny calls
King of the Mountain
Tasted of the Real Thing
The crunch of victory, a Golden Sunday when he was the one
The Stander of the Mountain is among us
Let us sit and talk of old times
When the men of Davy Crockett's range and the Plains
Withered in a crimson heat
Well even the Hurricane winds obeyed at one Lonestar Disciple's feet
Uniter of the kids of cotton fields, the city streets
The gateways where greatness gets a second birth
King of the Mountain
Nothing could be finer than the red cross
Waving high again in such uncivil days
Mulitudes from William Penn's land to Trojan soil took notice
Packoderm portraits indelible strokes painted by its sage
Well it will be knocking on your door tonight
He wants to see if you can remember right
The lessons carved in limestone and a wishbone leg
The echos of Saturday soliliquys striking a unison of chords
The stripes from gentle hands of steel shaping a warrior's reward
The fuel for another march up life's greatest hills
When it was over
The world sat there and looked stunned
My old friend watching the setting of his day
Tomorrow was way in the distance
Nobody could think much about it
There is nothing wrong if we remember today
I recall when you bowed before the Land of Lincoln crowd
The Million Dollar sounds rang in Graceland town
The girls in short skirts screaming loud
Stander on the Mountain
Looking for a new place to dream from
To reap from the seeds sown yesterday
The big man around town
Nothing could be finer than to drink from
To think from the cup passed from your old sage
When he was the one
Stander on the Mountain is among us
The Cap will never go away
Copyright © Matt Bradford | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Matt Bradford Poem
The light comes on and my heart ablaze
A man named Chang completes catharsis
One cross of power brought genesis
To enlarge one's coast in adding another
The results rang resolute from Great Beyond
Dreams of majestic meetings imagined for ions
At last hills trodden once above my grasp
Rain falls soft and wind whisks my back
Pete and Andre plays Stars and Stripes again
The lights go out and my spirit sinks
Hopes deferred many years hath made me sick
One ton of fears knocked me down
As many pounds brought me to my knees
To no avail would go such pleas
Nightmares of friends never made
Once again pull the covers over my head
The skies spell the impending shame
Tiger Tim's waiting to be tamed
Betwixt and between Big Ben's tick and tock
Changing of the guard concerning one's worldly lot
The fortnight's feast of wunderkinds needs an Abraham at the table
A mere Chaldean Yank in waiting willing and able
From a trespasser and a common gravedigger
To a server and a courtly centre of attention
As content to punchlines given and unrelenting to the taking of no prisoners
Opposing forces are met as imposters in the face of ecstasy and agony
Same today and tomorrow as was so in the days of Kipling
Copyright © Matt Bradford | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Matt Bradford Poem
Sweet land of liberty
For men like you and me
It's milk and honey
Spoiled and sour
City and serenity
Sunken below blackened hills
It's banner and wings torn and muddy
Melting memories of Mayflower
Winter comes in like a flood in God's country
While the good ones slumber in God's country
Arise in me chariot
Eternal flame from sea to sea
It's torch and fire
Rekindled and brighter
Cities of hospitable means
Beneath the royal ridge
It's railroad crossed and hedges cut asunder
The colonial soil once trodden by our ancestors
The same plains soon traversed by the world's finest players
Ring a sweet melody from Rome to the Empire's Olympus
Summer comes in like a banner raised in God's country
While the good ones yearn and discover in God's country
We'll bust through brassy skies
On wings of love let us watch and remember
The days the demons died
He's liberty, He's recovered and rescued you and me
Sweetness and savour
Refined and empowered
His city of golden avenues
Risen over angelic houses and hotels
It's gates and tower high and gleaming
Copyright © Matt Bradford | Year Posted 2005
|