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Cindy Cayton Poem
I thought for a long time
to try and do something right
(in your eyes)
I've taken the blows
and the comparatives
of every beauty you know
You love me, you loathe me,
I'm evil and detestable
You take me to my depth,
then, deny I've ever been
(there in the shadows of destruction)
(where one must sometimes fight to see the light)
I've been under bondage, n'er a day passes
that I do not try
Yet you splattered the truth and it helped me
for all the time living and giving,
never drawing a breath for today;
reflections of the past
Today my God Given name is special
For maybe I am not what I seem
Beneath this shell, redemptions plea
Seven years and months I've thought of how I could say
what it is that I need to say
Once the weight of humanity sat upon me,
every part of me cared and in my depth,
darkness and despair shadowed me, moving about
It doesn't matter the cost,
the dead are not living, but it's the lost
Lost was I, so cold to the Lord and I told you so
You were nice to me and cared
I loved you
Far be it to me now to brush back the tears streaming
at all cost, freedom is what I want
free to believe that I can be redeemed
Somewhere in days ago
was the writer that was the big joke
the one whose feelings meant the least
This monster
something evil
Your woe
A Wo-Man
Trust me not, for I do not love you anymore
Lest I shall die a horrible death
Seven years and months to say what I needed to say
You gave me brushed pink and yellow pastels of love
and brushing another tear back,
where the darkness's of all your lusts and loathing resides
Do not trust me, for I do not, could not love you any longer
Stars at night tell me I am right
they synchronize their twinkling with fallen hopes gone by
still it is beautiful
a light none the less
Where struggling through our nightmares we found dreams, awakening this
dawn
Do not trust me, I am deceit, I am your fear, I am the worst for you truthfully
I am your woe, man
Your woe
Now go
For John Rhinem aka Johnny
link<>, John Rhine M John Rhinemiller Rachel st cross, tristen temple
poetrysoup.com Jeremy Street Christopher Marcum whoopi goldburg
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
(please send commentary to: misscindycayton@rocketmail.com )
The day~
What does it mean?
Some effects are the rooster crows on time, the sun rises and soon sets as we
grow one day older.
Some look back on the days gone by and are satisfied, others feel as if they
have not given enough or even failed. Yet, it is much better to think of
pleasantries than errs. One can think of either in excess.
But the day. Ah yes, it is filled with lessons, reminiscing, happiness, love and
sometimes through grief and travesty God provides something so sweet to
touch our hearts and souls.
He, an omnipotent God of truth, has taken dirt from the earth and started
mankind.
Sometimes as I browse with the remote I end up on the discovery channel
and I ponder.
One day, I saw in the middle of foreign mountains was a place believed to be
a meeting place for the gods.
"It's possible", I said to myself. There are other gods I don't serve.
I thought about my journey. My walk, if you will, leaving the foothills at age
sixteen to be a humanitarian.
I stood in that corn field back home all those years ago and spoke to God.
"God, I am angry with you. I want to go see the world and need. I hope you
will let me come back and serve you."
So many times I thought I was through being a humanitarian. I thought I was
a good Christian. God pulled and tugged showing me yet again human stance.
He wasn't through with me yet. He showed me more.
I put my mind to work studying the gospel. I worshipped in many churches
including Jehovah Witness, Mormon, Full Gospel, while attending Mass some.
In fact, over a decade I realized I had studied or worshipped in every
denomination in America except for Seventh Day Adventist.
Luke warm? I've been spewed a bit.
One day years ago I couldn't bring myself to conform to a church. I thought
there was no place for a loner like me...so I spent time with a monk for nearly
a year. In life, I learned with Bhaskar all the things I already knew. The
beauty of all creation. I thought about that meeting place in the mountains
and smiled. My mother and father taught me there are reasons for all things
but it is not for us to question.
Then there are friends like Johnny Hannah, that doesn't believe in God, any
god. "Oil is from dead dinosaurs" (as NASA searches on).
The day: what does it mean? Your voice matters.
The day, my grass needs mowed but that's life being hacked with the blade.
The good Lord willing and the creeks don't rise, I'll have a beautiful yard
tomorrow.
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed.
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it,
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed.
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it,
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
Once a year we come together as Americans and celebrate Thanksgiving.
The Indians greeted the Pilgrims, "How", one said.
Perhaps this meant hello, or maybe, just maybe by the grace of God it really did mean how....?
How will we come together and fix a feast? How will we communicate? It is still this way in America today.
A day to Thank God for what we have and the people in our lives.
As we set the table in remembrance please do not forget the harvest.
Life is understanding, faith, hope, giving and giving thanks in this nation; One Nation, Under God, Indivisible... With Liberty and Justice for All.
This year's harvest laid upon the table top.
There's turkey and dressing, potatoes and noodles, with a bit of an implemented side dish of green bean casserole to suit, cranberry sauce of course! My friend may I have some corn before the pumpkin pie?
China or casual, or just a plain paper plate one may wonder. This is some of the abundance we ponder.
The women in the kitchen bring it all together and the men make small talk as the children learn a tradition that they too, will carry on.
There's nothing left in the fields. It's time to share.
It's the harvest!
Winter's soon to appear.
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
to
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
Lucinda Cayton Price expired of natural causes from an ongoing terminal illness April 5, 2015 at home. She left behind three children and a grandchild. A mother and four siblings. She was a gifted writer, ex specialist for the U.S. and received two ( never before earned) Star Accredidations for the Mind. There will be a three day wake in Glenford Ohio's standing church and ashes will be spread at Hopewell Indian Fort in Glenford. She left her memoirs and her best never seen work to her children. Some under the name little bird.
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2015
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Cindy Cayton Poem
Standing across the road from the church where I was confirmed; a teen
Blue jean jacket and jeans, Converses, I felt pretty cool with a pack of
Marlboro reds in my pocket, blue tip matches..
It was time away from tending the flock of sheep back home, and my regular
after school job supported my later habit.
Perhaps I wasn't that bad, seems as though I was not getting caught smoking
in the bathroom.
Deep in those Appalachian hills I wondered at times as the rain would come, I
would grab my old jacket to take a walk. Funny how that warm summer rain
was the ailment, my mother in a distance calling me back in, and my: "I'm
fine Mom... Just taking a walk".
Farm life was not hard, not so much a lady until later years. It
was the eighties, Finding myself on those sleepy little streets of the Village,
where they roll up the side walks at five pm, and every once in awhile, when I
felt the coolest of my cool, all by myself, I'd take a Marlboro out of my jacket,
strike a blue tip off my zipper and toss it.
The farm got foreclosed on in my adulthood, no lambs
play king of the mountain, butting each other off the huge stump in the rock
in the pasture.
I walked back to that sleepy little Village when I came back not long ago, My
blue jean jacket and jeans, converses, Marlboros and blue tips.... The village
was a ghost town, nothing open but a pharmacy that had opened thirty years
ago it was a store in a bank building that Bonnie and Clyde hit, and closed it
on down.
I was rather amused with the vault open, storing two liters of Pepsi
there, browsing at the sunglasses too long with the elderly working, I was
asked if I was going to buy something. I said well, you took out the fountain
coke machine, so I guess not, I walked outside the door, lit a cigarette with
my blue tip, and slowly walked down the side walk, the sun set different,
shadows fading Of used to be's, they never mattered to me really....
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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Cindy Cayton Poem
LONESOME ROAD is a paved road that on a country drive in Perry county. Around Ziontown, Ohio. Population. 1. Cherokee Bison Ranch located on Lonesome Road. Around The Square Magazine. NOBLE COUNTY. A monthly publication. The magazine is free the third Monday of every month. Local authors. Is available:
WWW.Journal-leader.com
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2015
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Cindy Cayton Poem
:)
Author Note:
45 minutes in the district library trying to find former president Jimmy Carter's and wife Rosalyn's book they wrote in the 1980's on Youth cause my children are driving me nuts.
(hahaha)
Good day though, even if I didn't get the title of the book for my birthday.
Oh well, the gov. probably with holding it, cause even the Carter Center doesn't know(previous phone contact).
On a light note, about 7 or 8 years ago on a Christian site Lucinda Price aka Cindy Cayton, me, wrote a response and the government locked it you have to write and ask for Lucinda Price's writing. A man, Christian man of authority's answer was because men had authority. It wasn't an argument. ?????
Got a nurse yesterday coming to the house cause my Family Dr. that I went to school with sent one. I am diabetic. (I do not give my blood or urine..(My American right)
Oh, well, I did "The Brian" as a 5th grade science fair project, made my model out of homemade play dough, colored it redish... they took the model, thought it was good. But I ended up CRAZY????????????
It was cold and rainy previous days but today is a beautiful day outside in Ohio!!! Much to appreciate. Thanks Poetry Soup for letting me be a free member for7 or 8 years now. Come January (I don't take money for my writing because my talents are God given) I want to be a member and give away magazines, newspaper subscriptions, and maybe an illustrated childrens book that benefits World Vision children... bye!!!! :)
Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014
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