Over The Hill Poems - Poems about Over The Hill

I have counted her footsteps for thirty-seven years the same path worn into my slope, the same pause at the thorny ridge where she catches her breath and adjusts the weight on her spine. Her daughters used to follow, small shadows learning the art of bending without breaking. Now I watch the granddaughters in school uniforms, walking the...

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If You Love If you love him, dear airy blonde lady, the one love is yours Only one, the only yours, you created him; the soul is yours This poor boy could have been yours. But you dropped him From your heart. Dumped guy. Yeah. From your sexy walk The train floor crackled under your gazelle steps. He knelt down In...

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No Flag on the Hill He woke to the hiss of burning plastic a child's shoe, half-melted in the road. Something like singing came from the mosque, but it was only wind through broken glass. The birds left weeks ago. Even the dogs are quiet now. A rusted swing creaks in a schoolyard where no one plays anymore. A mother once painted the front...

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I saw a Man today as he walked the hill Tears and drops of blood did equal spill From brutally torn flesh and eyes of pain I saw a Man today my inadequate refrain I saw a Man today unjustly convicted His trial was short and clearly scripted The verdict assured without any proof I saw a Man today who spoke only...

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In forgotten fields of green, Where laughter echoed, wild and free, I chase the ghosts of childhood's dream, And whispers of yesterday's sweet theme. Sunday morning, bright and fair, Church bells chime, with love and care, Father's prayers, a gentle guide, We're lost in warmth, where love resides. The Lord's guidance, a beacon bright, Leads us through life's plodding night, In innocence, we took it...

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They wake before the mist lifts in bamboo huts nailed to the spine of hills, children with feet toughened by stone, learning to climb before they can read. The school a distant building where the teacher comes twice a week, or not at all. Lessons written in a language that does not speak their names. A girl hums an old tune as she carries water...

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I am the watchman on the hill, My brother’s cry, I hear it still. Though shadows stretch and winds grow wild, I’ll cross the dark to find the child. Not born of blood alone is kin, But shared the fight we hold within— When sorrow knocks or hunger calls, My hands become the sheltering walls. His burden is not his to bear, If I...

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Spring Hiku 7 cherry blossoms shine ...

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What do I see, you are looking back at me. In my youth wearing a top of pink polka dots, with a skirt of green and orange fabric knots. As I looked-I laughed until I cried, every time the wilderness mirrors walk by. These very old mirrors are such a thrill, they love my fashion wear even if it is over...

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wild horse on a hill so at peace with waves crashing chilling with his friends...

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There was a rocky hill where I thought could rest myself, But when I sat there; saw people as small as elves, The sky was dark over there, All that the self knew was- the place where I sat wasn't fair. But my tired feet still forced me , The bats flew above my head with an attitude of fully...

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Fresh ocean air Oh, take me there! To the place below the hill Three hundred years I hold it dear Ancestors can be felt still For all I've roamed My heart knows home And it cannot get it's fill How does it long! For ancient song And the view from mine own sill A seat of peace My mind's at ease Oh, the terrors a place can kill Soon I'll...

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I plant a tree on top of the hill and there it stood still I water it with my tears and it kept blooming throughout the year and now it is spreading it’s branches everywhere and its trunks is parachuting into the sky but its main root is getting dry cause no more tears are left in my eyes the hill top...

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Off fish hill Daylight saving time 2025 min(no) newt effect on me. As part and parcel of terpsichorean repertoire, one whirling dervish flaps his wings at the speed of sound. With twenty three hours Sunday March 9th, 2025 essentially 2:00:00 to 2:59:59 does not exist in the night of the switch (back to the house of Pooh Corner) not only in Pennsylvania (but...

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Written: January 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Regina Mcintosh "There are twilight times when only the moon will muse on my misery." By POET. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shadowy stillness does embrace Showing the town such a showplace People...

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