Back when we would walk in the spring-green wood
Holding hands, hearts joined only as lovers can
Thoughts circle round those days in the deep wildwood
Now aged, bent way past young adulthood
Young love comes in glimpses in this lifespan
Longing for Jesus' relief of my orphanhood
These memoriesI try to bury never Go away
Tnar girl has my soul, my heart she went and stole
While burdens that I have to carry, haunt me everyday
it seems that even love, will always take it's toll
I remember that day, when she looked me in the eye
I learned right then,That nothin lasts forever
She turned right around, and never said goodbye.
like a moment lost in time, that youl always treasure
IL put my pain In these words, and hope it never returns
And look up at the stars, that circle round mars
IL try to go and heal, from all of lifes burns
And try to remember, there's beauty in my scars
I fall apart at night, lost in moonlight,
Waiting for the sun, to come and reignite
These memoriesI try to bury never Go away,
These burdens that I have to carry,haunt me everyday,
I gave that girl my soul, my heart she went and stole,
it seems that even love will always take it's toll ,
I remember that day, when she looked me in the eye ,
Turned right around and never said goodbye.
Itd like I learned right then,That nothin lasts forever,
like a moment lost in time, that youl always treasure
Il put my pain in these words , and hope it never returns
And try to go and heal from all of lifes burns.
I look at up the stars that circle round mars
while I try to remember , There's beauty in my scars
I fall apart at night lost in moonlight
Waiting for the sun to come and reignite
These memoriesI try to bury never Go away,
These burdens that I have to carry,haunt me everyday,
I gave that girl my soul, my heart she went and stole,
it seems that even love will always take it's toll ,
I remember that day, when she looked me in the eye ,
Turned right around and never said goodbye.
Itd like I learned right then,That nothin lasts forever,
like a moment lost in time, that youl always treasure
IL put my pain in these words and hope it never returns
And try to go and heal from all of lifes burns
IL look up at the stars that circle round mars
And try to remember there's beauty in my scars
These memoriesI try to bury never Go away,
These burdens that I have to carry,
haunt me everyday, I gave that girl my soul,
and my heart she went and stole,
it seems thateven love, will always take it's toll ,
I remember that day, when she looked me in the eye ,
Turned right around and never said goodbye.
Itd like I learned right then,That nothin lasts forever,
like a moment lost in time, that youl always treasure
I fall apart at night, lost inmoonlight,
Waiting for the sun to come and reignite,
I've become an empty shell, it's not hard to tell
I could really use some help, or a wishing well.
I Got so many bad habits , I took to many tablets,
now I'm here with an empty medicine cabinet.
Il put my pain in these words ,
and hope it never returns
And try to go and heal from all of lifes burns.
I look at up the stars that circle round mars
while I try to remember , There's beaut
They robbed the people of their wealth,
Built grand halls, boasting stealth.
In gleaming cars, they roamed the streets,
Wearing titles, pride complete.
For power and fame, they sought the throne,
Flags waved high, their might was shown.
But their chariots of luxury, cold as stone,
Never graced the humble home.
Their voices silent, never raised,
For the people's needs, they never praised.
The cries of the poor, they did ignore,
Except when elections knocked at the door.
But when the reaper came to call,
And took their child beyond the wall,
They wept, knowing sins they'd sown,
The burden of guilt, now fully known.
No iron fortress could withstand,
The Lord's decree, firm and grand.
For justice reigns, a truth profound,
The wicked's wealth will circle 'round.
The whistle blows, the chugging starts -
A steam train ride in France -
For those who like to try things
From the past, this is your chance.
Since when it’s time to turn around,
The leading car’s unlatched
And driven to a turntable
Before it’s reattached.
The locomotive then gets cranked,
By hand! one circle ‘round.
The engineer next drives to where
The once-caboose is found.
The train is reconnected
And goes back the way it came,
Passing trees and giant rock formations,
Looking all the same.
An aqueduct appears and there’s
An eagle in the sky,
But what impresses most on board
As we go zipping by
Is a trio by the river,
Down below and quickly viewed,
Being very French, relaxing
Near the water, in the nude.
Bow to the partner in the corner
Hey, this dance ain't nothin' but torture!
Heads lean left and circle to a line
Guzzle down that old moonshine!
Roll away to a half sashay
Get down on your knees and pray.
Circle round and round with the dear little thing
but for God's sakes don't let her sing!
Meet your partner and promenade
Slip a little 'shine in the lemonade!
Allemande left with your left hand
Drop him in a big box of quicksand!
Black-eyed Susan, a Summer doll.
Bright, yellow, with downturned petals.
My childhood shadow skips along
the trail with honeysuckle scent.
Flow’rs stunning in a garden fete.
Her sunrays smile in a vast field.
Petals dance in a circle ‘round
Susan’s sun-soaked, ebony eye.
LATE BLOOMER
sun highlights
the bod of oak bark -
Autumn knight
CLINGERS
won’t let go -
cling to puppy love,
its branches
CLEAVERS
cleaves to old
relationship vow -
storm shakes loose
LANDING
the leaves land
amidst the old maids’
bitterness
BRITTLE BONES
the children
jump in old gals’ laps
living loud
RING AROUND THE ROSIES
circle round
sing, “ashes…ashes…”
and fall down
LEARNING CURVE
life up there
in the lusty air
now seems strange
GONE WITH THE WIND
scattering
the old bats’ ashes
to the wind
REBORN
phoenix lands
a bitty wiser
and lighter
She sits on a stool
in the middle of a yesterday room
eyes squeezed shut
as her phantoms circle ‘round
circle ‘round 'n 'round
their hollowed voices chant an endless
why? why did you…? whydidyou??
mantra|mantra_ing
from all that hard mined deep time
from days long-ago-past yet-not
those never-really-past days of ago.
their discordant chords siphoned
from yesterdays' poor performance
those depths of times behind her, yet-not,
those never-really-locked loosely keyed doors
from all that of the 'whatever' she
stuffed behind closed doors.
Her eyes with dead-ended sight fused shut
for she cannot force them open
for she cannot bear
to see the tragic
sweet lives randomly
pieced apart
strewn crazily
at her feet…
all that of all the what
of those shoulda-beens
all that
what-coulda-shoulda-mighta-been
but wasn't.
to press on strings, these digits, sore
thru pain, let chord and cadence pour
oh how could I so long ignore
that sound that stirred my spirit
and what had helped me hear it?
thru all those years of muse mistrust
and jousting gists that seemed unjust
you sat unvoiced, and gathered dust
yet, now, your tongue is finding
such beauty midst your binding
in dreams, I felt you’ve longed for my
soft press, to make you, sweetly, cry
hushed, empty hours with but a sigh
this heart, so lone and aching …
my passions - bloodless, breaking
still, life’s a circle, round-and-round
too long I walked that barren ground
and now, once more, in you I’ve found
that silence, strained, defeats me
and how your voice completes me
oh beg, forgive this daft old man
I missed your smooth neck ‘neath my hand
and each dear note that you command
let’s coax these dulcet hours …
where ballads bloom like flowers
come, guitar … let ballads bloom.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 6, 2023
Watermelon wheels circle round and round,
thump, thump, thumping, on bumpy ground.
The pits sparkle, as they spin and whirl,
and juicy pink flesh, flashes and twirls;
the treads of its rind, striped green,
a watermelon bike, a fruitful machine.
Date: July 9, 2022
For: A watermelon Fantasy Ride to Feed My Imagination Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
They come in like birds.
Slipping through the walls.
Others like to perch on the stalls.
Handbags and purses, clutched to their chests,
The rest circle round, eyeing their culprits.
Some squawk and wave at people they think they know.
The leaders stand over their roost,
Circulating snapshots of a perfect life.
I am looking for a book I left
on a train back in 88.
A book concerning explorations made
on the Metropolitan line
between Harrow-On-The-Hill and Croxley.
An odyssey
only reaching its destination today
as I now circle low
over the Jovian moon Calisto.
Close to her sad old face
I can see that she was
a good mother and an unfaithful wife.
Diana, Zeus clad in the form of Artemis
all three orbiting a scandalous history
disguised as pulp fiction.
Her womb is full of dead stars now
but she shines by the light of Jupiter himself.
As predicted in an overlong story
they still circle round the same
orbit of West London,
where a book I had almost finished
must always lay completely unread
as a tale planted by the very God's
that stirred my younger mind
to be a train reading rider
in the first place.
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