Over the hill what does those words mean
Are we no use to those around
Or are we building another's dream
To help them have a life quite sound
Are we no use to those around
Only if our wisdom seeds have no bed
To help them have a life quite sound
Instead of one that's filled with dread
Only if our wisdom seeds have no bed
Will we be without a harvest
Instead of one that's filled with dread
I want a life that will find rest
Will we be without a harvest
Or will you reap eternally
I want a life that will find rest
When I have been all I can be
Now will you reap eternally
Or are we building another's dreams
When I have been all I can be
Over the hill what does those words mean
House on the hill barricaded by brick, placed in 1981.
Sheltered by the flood, but bound and bathed
With the anguish of the mourning there.
Mostly by the caretakers of the children,
And then too the children as they grow older.
But they swore never to be like them, and that they would move away.
Across state lines in houses shielded by a sea of forest.
They would stay in touch, but just enough to get away with it.
Just enough to stay out of the mouths of those they ran from.
But close enough to not feel guilt for cutting ties.
One day that house won’t be ours.
It will return to the hill as it was made,
And remain a living relic in the stories we tell, and in our hearts.
Not for the suffering it kept shut inside,
But for the nesting it provided, and the memories that took the shape of us.
Sad memories to past belong,
as sunlight slides behind the hill
she thinks of what has come and gone,
how love once lived so very strong
but ended young by war’s sharp prong~
she longs for her lost lover still
and hears the call of their heart song
as sunlight slides behind the hill!
The bright morning sun awakes,
peeking over the hill,
kissing the pink mountain tops.
Living
a dream ...
Reality
orphaned
Time in a
capsule
Sealed away
from our view
Embracing
the crowd
Shunning
the critic
Poseurs
retreating
To hide in
the queue
Moving
each soul
To joy
or to terror
Art
holding sway
Over darkness
and light
Onward
we move
Immune
to convention
And cresting
the hill
Our spirits
— take flight
(Dreamsleep: July, 2026)
As sunlight slides behind the hill
Lord, your kindness for all to see.
You love as our dreams do fulfill.
As sunlight slides behind the hill
Devoutly walk in grace with thee,
But bathe in the light; let us free.
As sunlight slides behind the hill
Lord, your kindness for all to see.
As sunlight slides behind the hill,
The world turns lax with fading light,
A quiet hush begins to spill.
As sunlight slides behind the hill,
Ongoing day's work can roost still,
Shadows lengthen with coming night.
As sunlight slides behind the hill,
The world turns lax in fading light.
My Heart Is A Secret Garden,
where love and pain live and hide.
Love finds pretty flowers blooming,
as the bright sun peeks over the hill.
The love that fills my heart and soul,
coming from the many who love me,
The pain from the rose thorns that prick my being,
from those who want to hurt me.
Oh yes, my heart is a a secret garden,
exploring life and what it has to give.
Here’s my lovely grass of home
What defines it is that never
It obtains pale yellow tone
Remains emerald green forever
Over there across the field
There’s a hill you used to know
Walked upon its lanes until
You felt tired enough to go
Backwards to the sweetest home
With its garden paradise
Where the smoothly cut green lawn
Glints with water from the skies
You come down for tea and biscuits
We talk rubbish ‘bout the weather
Though one thing we both implicit
That it can’t get any better.
A love was born in Newfoundland
For a wonderful winter thrill.
As a brothers and sisters band
We would trek to our favorite hill.
With toboggan in tow behind
And a forward lean in the wind,
We braved the elements unkind
To launch freezing runs for the win!
Our thrill was called Suicide Hill
Where the locals who dared would go.
With the chance of boredom nil
We lined up and flew through the snow.
Our cheeks red as roses in bloom
And hands frozen curled 'round the rope
Time and again, we'd all make room
And board the toboggan once more.
Eden for good men
Hell is waiting evil men
is it not that clear?
I wish I were a ginger girl from south shligooooo!
Like Queen Maeve, sip soup called "loo la loop"
Stand on the Hill of Tara
Read The Lebor Gabála
Taste Conn ale ‘til I’m numpty, numpty noo
It's getting dark
Still I can see,
As I embark
On this journey
Take me where you will, I say
Take me where you will,
It's best I do not stay
Behind this lowly hill
The moon resides there
On the other side,
Beaming light so fair
Away from where I hide
The stars, they drop
As I look their way,
About the hilltop
And still... I stay
On this journey
As I embark,
Still I can see
It's getting dark.
Kids can never have their fill
Of sledding down a snowy hill
And naturally, our local place
Was packed with families who embrace
The city life and came prepared
To romp in spaces to be shared.
Their bright toboggans let them slide,
Enjoying extra time outside,
When normally, they’d be in class
Until the school day hours would pass.
Today, though, lessons would be taught
On Zoom, so every student ought
To be home staring at a screen
Which isn’t part of their routine.
So many bailed, I’d have to guess,
Based on the joy none could suppress.
These snowy days are very rare
And therefore, it is only fair
That every child who has the chance
Grabs all the fun that Nature grants.
A young man with dreams down his head,
To soar to the sky he was led;
He climbed the hill so fast,
His own self he surpassed,
Then thought his freedom may be dead.
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