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Laural Wilson Poem
Rows and rows of flashing lights. slot machines
Aglo. Tables lined with their best felt, ready
For the Go. Jackpots, Jackpots all around, Hey
Folks lay your money down. Keno, poker and the craps.
For the very rich and fat there's Baccarat.
I love the sights and sounds of it. I even love
The clammer. The loud and happy sounds, a recent
lucky winner.
Am I having lucky times with quarter, nickle and
A dime? Time goes by so quickly, the money starts
To trickle. I'm down to my last nickles.
A pretty waitress came around to offer some
Refreshment. I said " I'd like a tall-cold beer".
She said "I'll be righ back." I put the money
in the slot and all the bells start ringing. I
am sure that that sweet girl brought me what I
Got - Luck - "Jackpot."
Copyright © Laural Wilson | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Laural Wilson Poem
Scattered all about the ground, yellow-buttery ,
profound. When her day is finally gone, dandelion
lingers on and makes her way back home again.
Little parachutes go out and fly on wings of windy
air. Landing on the mountain tops, found one on
the front-porch stair. Little vagabond gets round
as she flutters to the ground to put her little
feet back down again on some remote terrain.
Buttercup of nature simply graces country road and
sits beside the garden path to make some color,
create a splash. If ever there be a hunger here,
little flower of the air will fill our portion to
the top with leafy greens we need so much.
Should I return to earth again, I wish to be a
dandelion, for she is true in form and substance,
and she will never fail for God has made her
perfect.
Copyright © Laural Wilson | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Laural Wilson Poem
Awake, sleep is washed from dreamy eyes. Instincts old and new
arrive to drive the days's perspective.
I must convey that my heart sings when java, hot and steamy, brewed in
my own pot or not, flavored with my favorite mocha, mint or cream,
wakes me from a hazy dream. Another jewel of life is toast
to eat, when made just right, covered with the gel of bee or berry.
I turn again at night to the chance that I might marry ala mode with
apple pie. I could have A bulging belly, several chins and tighter
rings. Thus I end another day with wise and prudent leadings. Where is
the nearest fast-food restaurant so I can get my feeding?
Copyright © Laural Wilson | Year Posted 2005
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