There are those like feathers
Roving about without a care
Then one day you search for them
And they just are not there
Then there are those like lemons
Soured while still on the tree
Just waiting to be plucked
Just longing to be free
There are those like ice
Frozen and cold
Quickly melted by the sun
Flowing to quench the thirst of an empty soul
Then there are those like garments
Worn with pride
They are as personal as fingerprints
But rarely reliable as guides
No power unless you grant them access
Just opinions
Lustful roving eye, we decry
Base animal instinct
At life’s end, do we laugh or cry
Are our thoughts, by love inked
Earth life a gift; use it
Lamp of bliss in heart lit
Love’s path to the summit
God utters a sigh
Lustful roving eye
08-February-2022
Quietus
I’LL GO ONCE MORE A ROVING
I’ll go once more a roving
Past my door beyond my gate
Fear and rules no more condoning
No authority berate
No more now for me to hunker
Nor to lock myself away
Loose the latch and leave the bunker
I regret I cannot stay
Take the path along the river
Cross the Heath and by the shore
In the sun I’ll no more shiver
I’ll go roving forth once more
Friends I’ll greet if not too nearing
But not veer nor shy away
Share the freedom with a clearing
Of restriction on our day
‘Safety first’ a favoured adage
In life values that we weigh
With elan as of a cabbage
Flinching ever from a fray
Those before us saw affliction
Faced a world surfeit with strife
Ventured forth without restriction
They embraced the game of life
Give us freedom of decision
May we not give reasoned voice?
Be not treated with derision
As if children, make no choice
In regime with no imposing
An existence smooth and bland
Let us go once more a roving
Wander free across the land
A sweet scent of wood on the morning air
The dawning of another day
When nature's escapades begin Unwrapping in this November woods.
Searching for the first of a burst of a brand new HORIZON greeting
A fading night, roving over crinkled leaves newly fallen
The majesty of dawn
Kicking up my heels on this juvenile morning
I feel the immaculate PRESENCE of nature from miles around
A hallowed log with early morning visitors seeking
Treasures for their troves
Keeping on my best quietness I envisioned a boiling star take the sky
A golden treat of slivers of purple and simmering crimson bold
A sunrise New and gold, I witnessed the flaring horizon as I
Ventured forward gently uncovering a new born tranquil day.
A simple golden band that he wore upon his hand
Didn't seem to matter much to him.
He had a rovin' eye and it settled by and by
On a woman at her best when lights are dim.
The gossip got around in this little western town,
And it came to roost for good with his own wife.
She knew his kind of man and she made up her own plan
To settle once for all his sorry life.
She waited until June - a Sunday at high noon,
And fried some chicken bought right from the store.
She said ,"Your time is short, if didn't know you ort,
"When you spent my egg money on a whore."
He was chewin' on a thigh when she shot him in the eye,
And finished with about a pound of lead.
She ate up all the chicken gave the dog the plate for lickin',
Then made sure one more time that he was dead.
Well the sheriff came around from that little western town -
Said he hadn't seen her man in quite awhile.
She had said,"Me neither and I'm thankful for the breather"
And the sheriff tipped his hat and winked a smile.
11-28-18
For Brian Strand's End of November , 2018 contest
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