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Cynthia King Poem
She stares out the window at the old folks home.
She feels like it is all a dream and cries when she is alone
No one comes to visit her although visits are allowed each day.
Her children say it is just too hard and live too far away.
They were married very young, but were so much in love.
When hard times seemed too much they prayed to God above.
The children grew up happy-then they moved away.
The couple did not notice the passing of each day.
He was sick for many years and she stayed at his side.
She prayed a cure would soon be found for the cancer eating him alive.
Her hands sometimes hurt and her body was old.
But with him at her side she felt good as gold.
She plays with her fingers as she watches him breathe.
She watches the clock and she starts to grieve.
His body has become silent and still.
The nurses come in with forms that need to be filled.
She is numb as she listens to sermons of life after death.
Friends of the family say sorry, and wish her the best.
The medical bills are too much for her to pay alone.
The bank has come to say they are taking her home.
She can't believe that after sixty years he is gone.
This old folks home- she knows he would say is wrong.
She takes the medication that she does not need.
She takes out her old worn Bible and sits down to read.
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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Cynthia King Poem
Welcome America to tonights addition of the six o'clock news!
San Fransisco has been shaken by yet another quake.
New Orleans has been buried and is now a great lake.
The body of a four year old has been recovered from a dumpster,
wrapped in a garbage bag.
A group of rioters were seen burning the American flag.
A father could not take the pressure-he shot his wife and kids.
We had a sighting of Bin Ladin, but he must have ran and hid.
We seized thirty pounds of explosives from an airline terminal.
We still don't have the prison space to deal with all our criminals.
Because of oil shortages gas prices have reached an all time high.
A bigger corporation has come to town so many jobs will die.
We have lost the war on drugs-I have to tell the truth.
We had to spend your social security-apologies to our youth.
A woman was found stabbed to death in her home.
Due to police cut backs no one was at the phones.
Well, that's all the time we have today, please join us again at ten.
I'm sure we'll have a lot more stories to report by then.
Please don't use any water tomorrow as supplies are low this year.
We are happy to report you got your news first here!
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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Cynthia King Poem
Her closet can hold jackets for four,
but only three coats hang behind that door.
The children help her set her table for four,
but one seat remains empty, he's not there anymore.
Her children are tucked in to sleep for the night.
One by one she turns out the lights.
In the quiet of her room she finds she can't sleep.
Alone in her bed she softly weeps.
The sun seems so angry as she wakes for the day.
The children are up and busy at play.
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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Cynthia King Poem
Walls of stone hold him in.
Bars of steel block his view.
Locked away for mortal sins.
No hope was left alive in him
But in his dreams he's home with her,
And things are now as they once were.
Laughter from a child so small
The beautiful touch before the fall.
A dream so full of life for him,
That he can not tell now from then.
When he wakes he dreams of sleep.
Every morning his soul does weep.
From what he's done there is no escape.
From what he's lost he learned to late.
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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Cynthia King Poem
What do I do when it all falls apart,
When I'm left holding nothing but a broken heart,
When dreams I once cherished are tossed aside,
When I just want to stop and get off of this ride?
What do I do when the demons come calling,
When even the angels can't keep me from falling,
When there is nothing but evil outside my door,
When I see no reason to live any more?
What do I do when the powder is snow white,
When the cool clear bottle is all that feels right,
When addiction has taken a hold on my soul,
When forgetting this life is my only goal?
What do I do when I've lost the fight,
When that silver blade dances in the dark of the night,
When my blood spills forth pure, dark, and red,
When all I believed in is withered and dead.
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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Cynthia King Poem
She sat next to you in school every day.
You sometimes saw her, but never knew her name.
Such a quiet girl lost in her own way.
She cried a lot as the world slept.
Her mind drifting away as her body wept.
Fists of stone may pummel her,
And though no one hears her screams,
She knows her God is watching her.
He sends her the sweetest dreams.
She reaches out to Heaven.
To a love greater than she's ever known.
A small girl who was so early broken
And God looked down and he saw her tears.
He saw the object of all her fears
How God wept at her unjust treatment!
"My angel,"he cried "Come home."
Copyright © Cynthia King | Year Posted 2006
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