Well, he walked away mid august,
Was following the yellow moon;
If he had left a letter there,
Would've said I won't be back too soon.
And not one time did he look back
At that house upon the plains;
He prayed that those crops would grow
And family survived the pain.
He passed through the land he knew
When he was a much younger man;
He walks back and forth across fields
As though they were built to his plan.
Recalls all the hard work he'd done
But with loving family by his side
They fell in love with their domain.
He did not know the time would come
When he'd leave without a goodbye;
Thought he'd live to a ripe old age,
For the life of him knew not why.
Suddenly, now, the clouds rolled in
And he took one last look to home;
Just when he was lifted up
He read his name upon the stone.
10~14~2016 Oh, Yes Please Dare
Trust in love and just let go…
I will show you a view through a rainbow.
Yay! You took a chance and let go of the reins.
You are a rare soul and a treasure to behold.
A human still brave enough to risk others’ disdain.
You made a choice to accompany me, so bold.
For there is no excitement or joy without risk of pain.
You may see sights which support your wildest dreams I’m told.
one who has not failed
not willing to take a risk
may live to a ripe old age
so safe yet mundane
what drags they bore me so
dare to see through a rainbow
Three Style II – Poetry contest
Another winding road, another hardship.
"Builds character," they say;
Well, I must be one helluva character by now I guess.
Still I smile and laugh at myself for the little quirks i have.
Like enjoying how a sneeze feels;
Ahh, Im still alive
Living in this hive.
Being pushed and prodded to conformity;
"Get with the program," they say.
Well I've always Kinda gone against the grain
Teeth into the wind
And a sailors spiteful Arrgh! every now and then.
I love being Alive
Born to Survive
"But your my family, my blood," they say.
Right... You' ve had me bleeding for years,
And never once provided a band-aid.
If time heals all wounds ,
I'm going to live to a ripe old age.
And the Sign-post says I'm Alive.
Alive, Alive, Alive.
Her friends all departed before her,
No one was left to mourn her passing,
The curse of being somewhat blessed
With a life that is long lasting.
She buried her husband twenty years ago;
Lived in solitude ever since;
Every obituary she read of a friend
Brought tears and made her wince.
Of sound body and sound mind
For a century and more;
Sounds like a gift you might want
But the last twenty years she abhorred.
When at last her body gave out
And released her tormented soul;
No one was left to eulogize her
And make sure her story was told.
The preacher read from the bible
At a service that no one attended;
In a cheap coffin she was lain
And placed in a plot that will go untended.
She had shed tears at many a funeral
For people she dearly loved
But no one is left to cry for her
As she passes to the skies above.
I hope I live to a ripe old age,
But not the oldest of my peers;
I don’t wish to be so alone
In my autumn years.
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