When I Fall
By Frank Daub
When I fall unaware of sin,
is God aware of me? Does He
see sin as second chance to win
Eternity?
And if eternity’s the prize
Which degree will I find there?
The brightened streams of Paradise
Or the tempest--blackened air?
She notes how the days
have grown shorter.
A cacophony of grackles
near a cornfield fills the air.
A farmer across the road
walks along his field
checking his corn before harvest.
Leaves rustling
in the wind sing.
The construction crew
has passed her driveway.
She asks the flagger to
help her daughter across.
The school bus arrives
late afternoon. Lights flash
She rushes onto the porch
and hugs her daughter
who wears a backpack.
The mother notices
the sky is gold
as she looks out the window
and cooks supper on the stove.
Her daughter sits in a chair
hands folded on her lap.
So good to see her daughter
she thinks after letting go
in the morning and waiting
for a late afternoon embrace.
What a picturesque panorama this is.
My eyes peer into the beautiful landscape
Of my vast, vivid imagination...
It is such a wondrous escape!
Funny, serendipitously finding you here
In this Shangri-La, patiently waiting for me.
Believe me, there is no place
On this earth I'd rather be!
Here we are, blissfully walking among
A serene golden field without a fuss,
As the unstable world crumbles
Like Gibraltar all around us.
What an adventure! It's a sheer thrill
Getting away from it all with you
We'll chase butterflies to our heart's content,
Misspend our time taking in the view.
In this haven of peace and tranquility,
We'll repeatedly sojourn; it's our royal domain,
A welcoming, breathtaking getaway
To come back to again and again.
The sun affects so much of what we see
it pierces into these places so dark
without the sun, it remains hidden
it's been like that ever since the ark
These dark corners hidden away
we seem to miss that hidey-hole
except when that bright beam penetrates
it brings out what otherwise would have stole
Now your body also has dark places
that when the sun shines, it bright rays
it brings a rich glow upon your face
shows up God's hidden hand done with clay
The obvious darkness is in the night
out there, only the stars and the moon
brings light to the night out there
makes one wish for a bright high noon
There's an invisible darkness in our souls
which is worse than any other kind
for it will bring an eternal death
which only God's Son can everlastingly shine
Night and day, you show your way
Rain or shine, you taste like wine
You float in my mind, my eyes not blind
On boat or in coat, you stick and bind
Tokens or ticket, I bring without a bucket
Chips or biscuit, on tables you drain my pocket
Everyday you control my mind like a paddle
Sweeping me like a deck of cards on a mantle
With strokes you show your clean hands
Win or lose, burning my locks and strands
You know what you are
Everybody knows your name like a star
Star embodying a business that never dies
All nations benefit from you, in coins or in pies!
Penning in a crimson coloured covered book
at peace one summer in Limerick ,to be sure
Please ... please take a look
you'll see its plot is a bio adventure
aka that day swimming.. I lost ..my denture
Persisting through the horrors,
Overcoming the challenges,
One obstacle after another.
Rolling with the punches,
Embracing the challenges,
For I am an artist and a Mother.
Not resisting the difficult,
Progressing through hardship,
Experiences that would make one shudder.
Strength found in the chaos,
Dancing with the landslide,
Emotions a full speed runner.
I wish I could see
Oh the places, Dr. Seuss
where dreams have wings
where stubborn souls
fight gravity
Oh the places, Dr. Seuss
where rhyme and reason
two-step in the night
forgetting the obligations of love
I find structured chaos
exhilarating
when the rest of the world sleeps
Your characters smile
desperately
I overcompensate as well,
in my own way
The cat in a hat
is always balancing things
to negate loneliness
A fish in a bowl knows more than me
Tomorrow is always an option
“Tomorrow is another day”
Yes, Vivian Leigh, yes
Behold the mighty ego on two feet,
Whose brain is missing, though the suit is neat.
They walk around like kings of empty space,
With pride and panic painted on their face.
They talk for hours and say nothing new,
A one-person trash heap leaking out on cue.
Their grand ideas are small, absurd, and old,
Like yesterday’s stale soup left in the cold.
They open up their mouth to spin a tale,
Of how they fought a shark and rode a whale.
A walking billboard for a cheap brand name,
Where every minor errand wins them fame.
They brag of wealth they simply do not own,
And broadcast status from a cracked cell phone.
The room falls flat, the yawns begin to spread,
While they crown themselves inside their head.
They climb a molehill, screaming it’s Everest,
Convincing no one that they are the best.
A golden trophy made of painted tin,
All empty echo from their throat within.
One of the Seven Wonders
Its marble color changes
according to the sunlight
and moonlight at night.
Could never live in a city,
nothing about it feels right,
so cramped, crowded, and quite dirty,
hard angles always in sight.
The stress I see in the faces,
pricey closets for a home,
everything near someone else’s,
no land they can call their own.
Moving like rats in a subway,
nothing but concrete to walk,
all this to live where ‘things happen,’
at least that’s how many talk.
So few of them will have children,
the cost most just can’t afford,
and most went there for the fast life,
gives nothing but demands more.
The morals always declining,
any in they’ll tolerate,
cling to it amidst the chaos,
and die still claiming it’s great.
The crimes of degraded people,
city hall doing nothing,
don’t care to arrest criminals
when they need them all voting.
It hollows out the whole city,
great buildings rotting away,
the people not getting better,
the whole place endlessly fades.
And yet they say we should live there,
believe they top all the rest,
better than all of those ‘rednecks,’
see other folk as much less.
No, I can’t live in a city,
the whole place is insane,
no job, museum, or night club
can be worth that kind of pain.
You see them rise while still in the suburbs,
the rings of hills, the wilderness buffer;
smaller, more round than what waits further on,
some sport cabins atop with views quite long.
Down on the road some houses still pop up
for folks who hate the concrete, noise, and trucks,
and at crossroads, small stores with country themes,
selling jerky, t-shirts with wild scenes.
Then small motels folks claim on the weekend,
cars with kayaks, across the ponds to wend.
Just down from that, a smallish petting zoo,
with local critters strutting in plain view,
the kind you wish you could see in the woods,
but they all hide, and that’s for their own good.
Then a small lake, stubbed with second homes,
the kind that you hope someday you might own,
weathered docks and fishing boats on the lake,
could the trout here be big enough to take?
But now the peaks are stretching for the clouds,
buildings thin out, the road the forest crowds,
the foothills gone, these mountains your escape,
a wild land, the kind owned by the state.
surge into sheltered darkness
sky slithers through canopies
soles slip past red army ants
settled soils call back faintly
seeking upwards for reward
steep and sore our path to climb
success rests on moving clouds
BLUE ACRES
Blue Acres is where I want to be.
Fishing and writing are the life for me
Water all around me
please give me that river view.
The fishing
The silence
The writing time
The cooking
Blue Acres I’m on my way!
The Little Brown Church
By
J.A. Long
I belong to the honest little brown church on Simpson Road
The one that everybody passes like Levites in a hurry
Perhaps looking for something kind of furry critter
Or perhaps for a house sitter at the very last minute
Perhaps even for a Spinet
The little brown church that is located directly across the street
From the popular yellow colored diner
But on the same side of the street which
Usually has more parking spaces than cars
The little church that needs more people
Including students for its quiet Sunday School
The little church that was once larger on
Third Street- you must know the one
Places Categories
Definition | What is Places in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
area, city, community, country, district, domicile, dwelling, habitat, hamlet, hole, home, house, neighborhood, plant, position, region, residence, room, section, situation, town, venue, vicinity, village, zone,