Wake me in the morning
long before the sun;
I swear I will be here
when the day is done.
Might be open spaces
under distant skies,
They’ll be changing colors, too,
with another morning’s rise.
I been across this whole land,
sometimes more than twice;
Even though it was in my dreams
it looked so very nice.
Still I have been grounded,
I got no need to roam,
And lucky are the people
who find their forever home.
As changes come and go,
while mountains drift to sea,
There will be some standing there
crying out that they been freed.
Footprints on the shoreline
been washed away by rain,
Those once on the mountain now
know the meaning of their pain.
Some call it a resting place,
this little piece of ground;
They speak soft “you’re lost to us”
but I believe we been found.
Words fade slow on tombstones
as the years pass us by,
Soon everyone comes to know
that home sweet home can’t be denied.
I have a dream I could quit drifting around
and I could take up a wife and settle down
Together we’d buy us a small piece of ground
a place we could share and let our love abound
We’d sit on the porch and smell the wildflowers
that float upon the breeze after spring showers
Hold hands and gaze at the sunrise for hours
all the happiness in the world would be ours
We could walk side by side while time drifted by
watching the clouds moving across the blue sky
Could raise our children and watch while they try
to grow to be adults right before our eyes
That’s this old cowboy’s dream that will never be
the life I’ve always known is on the prairie
M fate is to wander ever endlessly
I’m afraid it’s too late to ever change me
One Piece of ground
We were good sound
Many green tree
Now building lee
No concrete wall
Pure humane pearl
Once we enjoyed
All fakes avoid
Canvas comes to dye
To make true dream high
World infrastructure
Ruining the nature
Village to town
Modern’s no bound
Elites walk through
Denying moan
Now modernism
Treachery dome
Passionate dream
Apartheid cream
Let’s make a canvas
Where world is campus
Free from treacherous
Module of rules trust
-28/01/2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
The last piece of ground beef
No larger than a quarter
Eyed longingly by eight little eyes
their manners for most part in order
First eye each other to look for a nod
And then to look at the plate
Or to look for intent
Should appetite break free in hope to fully sate
Suddenly a hand shot out
to make three laps in au jus
Popped it into her grease rimmed mouth
And bid the whole matter adeau
Cottonwood and royal pine, majestic oak and fields of wheat
All you hear are birds, and the pitter patter of little feet
The smell of lilac fills the air, dirt roads far as one can see
Just beware of certain flowers and the stinging bumble bee
A cornucopia to run and play, safe and free from harm
There is no place I would rather be, than right here on this farm
This is my sanctuary, so many often wonder why
I’ll always love the country, it’s where I live and where I’ll die
I am thankful of this piece of ground, and all that I can see
Our life is what we make it, don’t let regret take hold of thee
August 17, 2020
In my garden flowers grow,
But I did not plant them though.
Borne on the wind, wild seeds found
Just by chance my piece of ground.
Through the winter months they slept,
Beneath the soil, safely kept.
Then when springtime called anew,
Their time had come, so they grew.
A riot of colour filled my plot,
Wild flowers grew in every spot.
What could a spirit be but lifted,
To see the beauty nature gifted.
You could tell he didn’t know
Who he was or where to go
You’d find him around town
Bedded down on a piece of ground
I’m sure there was a time
When he was just so fine
But that was long ago
When his world was aglow
Now there are no dreams
And the world is so mean
Well he doesn’t know who he is
Or his life he no longer wants to live.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Warmth and understanding,
With nothing to assume,
Gentle like her yoga,
Dark eyes were shining too.
Disturbing my indifference,
She moved into the room
With understated presence,
And saturated mood.
She didn’t disregard me, but
Her walls were never down,
The wolves that she kept waiting
Always were around.
It’s better left platonic,
Precious, sacred piece of ground.
A Single Tree
Steve L. Siegel
August, 2015
-:-
Up on the upper Hoh River there is a trail
Only two and haft miles long, at end of trail is a tree
Were it has turned into a cross all by Gods own hands
People have been coming up there for years to see.
-:-
There is no pastor up here
Only a log beam made into a bench
Where people come pray or meditate
Some getting closer to God within the tree’s reach.
Myself it was time for self-reflections
I knew that for me it was time to grow
Where I learned that a little rain must fall
Some-times for Jesus, so that I can learn to be the show.
-:-
I sure don’t know why this tree grew this way
By the laws nature it should not have
Nothing has ever hurt this tree
No fire or lighting has ever have.
-:-
I do truly believe that this tree
Has seen more people turn their lives around
Then any church or pastor on any Sunday
Maybe, that’s why God put this tree in this piece of ground.
-:-
Author’s Notes
This tree is for real it is a big spruce somehow instead going straight up
It has two branches that forms a cross.
It at Olympic Nat, Park, Hol campgrounds
There's room for improvement in my heart
continually I'm aware of love's presence in my life
I better be fair at least with others if not myself
If I lost this precious piece of ground
tell me would i be capable of winning her heart at last
Or suffer the shame of loss and defeat that seeks its hold on all our lives
but the past has no hold on what the future brings
if you believe in something enough it comes alive
because it grows from the seed of hope that generous souls love sow
without question I love to see it spring to life
and prosper the one that watered it everyday
And I see the plant wither when left alone
it grew bitter with deceit till it died from despair
My own garden poisoned by lies false friends enjoy to toss around
None loyal to the cause no mention of Honor leave it out
frequently I battled with the thought
till i learned acceptance and told my heart to be strong
my soul responded in a rare kind of way it's difficulties that cause us to grow
will i find the fortune in misfortune finally at last
Or be trodden by the force failure often brings
If I found I had to search for a needle in the hay,
I would certainly choose to do so on a summer's day.
I wouldn't want it in a hay bale, fed to a hungry horse.
So I must find that sharp needle, and I know that, of course.
I can only search that haystack, a little at a time.
So I must have a big ladder, upon the top to climb.
When I've looked at that first handful and no needle I've found,
I will carry needleless handful to a piece of ground.
There I will start another haystack with handful of hay
That I have searched for needles on this bright and sunny day.
As one of the hay piles lessens, the other starts to grow.
I am sure one has no needles, of other I can't know.
When I've looked at every piece of hay in that big hay stack,
And even through the pieces that were left in the hayrack,
And tedious task is ended, if that needle I don't find
After all else has been driven from out my fevered mind,
I surely will be fussed and not at my cheeriest best
If I should find that missing needle in an unfinshed vest.
Oh, the falling rain.
What a welcomed sound.
To ease the pain,
and soften the hard thirsty ground.
A prayer answered, to save
us from this drought.
To quite our blatant doubt.
So rain please fall down.
Kiss my little piece of ground.
Rain on my roof top,
please fall softly upon
my weak and tired crop.
Fill up the pond for my cows,
and soften the earth for my plows.
I know hard times can't last
forever, but I sure could use
the rain to make it through
the endeavor.
What a sigh of relief, to hear
the rain bringing back life.
To wash away the
harsh sun and it's strife.
Lord, I work the land,
to feed my family.
You know between you and me,
this is not for gain.
But I do need this rain.
Sarah Comstock
4/12/06
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