Author Topic: Oldies ... but hey, maybe worth keeping  (Read 1647 times)

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Offline daisyxo

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Oldies ... but hey, maybe worth keeping
« on: February 06, 2008, 06:42 PM »
Just a few of the older poems ..... hope you enjoy reading them  :poet


Dreams in the Sand

I watched a small child
building his dream home,
a castle in the sand.
I asked him why he built it
so close to the water's edge.

All that hard work
the devotion and care
to make it just right
then one wave would
wash it away.

He told me that his dream
was always in his heart
and even if the wave destroyed it,
he would rebuild even better
the next time.

I continued my walk along the shore
tucking away his wisdom for another time.
Waves were gliding around my feet
and I became lost in thoughts of the one I love.

I knelt at the water's edge
and let my finger sink deep into the sand
drawing a symbol of the love I felt for him.

The next wave that slid upon the shore
washed the sandy heart away.
All the devotion and care
to make it just right
then one wave
and it was gone.

I recalled the wise words
of the little boy
and his castle in the sand.

The image had washed away
from the sandy beach
but nothing can destroy our dreams
if we hold them deep within our heart.


In The Face of Dawn

Wave upon wave no end in sight
tossed on the sea through dark of night
clinging to the sides, and their life by a thread
wishing they were home safely tucked into bed,
as the storm continued to rage on and on
they clung to their faith and prayed for dawn.

Help us dear Lord, please calm the storm
return us to our loved ones safe and warm
if the watery grave is where our souls depart
forgive us our sins, make us pure of heart,
as the storm continued to rage on and on
they prayed to God they'd live to see dawn.

Thunder rolled and the lightning danced
the Captain stared at the storm entranced
while his crew and passengers clung to the side
he knew they were in for one hell of a ride,
as the storm continued to rage on and on
their ship capsized in the face of dawn.

A north wind blew and clouds began shifting
the sun shone down upon wreckage left drifting
waves became calm and survivors cried
for the souls that floated away with the tide,
as the raging storm swiftly moved on and on
they gathered their strength and prayed at dawn.


Fantasy's Fire

Castles and fairies,
angels and elves
little golden books
placed on the shelves.

Gremlins and goblins
under your bed
invading your dreams,
it's all in your head.

The Cyclops and Sinbad
unicorns and Zeus
The Wizard of Oz
and sweet Mother Goose.

Wizards and dragons
time travel machines
bedknobs and broomsticks
and Jack's magic beans.

A passion for adventure
dreams and desire
is all that it takes
to ignite fantasy's fire.


Heavenly Bound

The engine stopped, I was out of gas
metal twisted and scattered around
that fateful night my car stalled out
on the tracks of the Alaska bound.

The 510 Express came barreling down
my heart was fluttering fast
feelings of doom I tried to shake
images flashed from my past.

Pulled from the wreckage barely alive
God had answered my prayer
for many others, their number was up
death angels and satan were there.

Their screams of pain I'll never forget
loved ones searched and cried
feelings of guilt, it was all my fault
it should have been me who died.

Part of my soul remains on that spot
searching for peace in the night
walking that space between heaven and hell
when the moon shines full and bright.

Some nights I hear the conductor's call
as he gathers lost souls around
All Aboard! Welcome to the 510 Express
this ghost train is heavenly bound.


Kerosine Light

Each night, in shadows cast
from out of his mind, ancestors past.

Their lives being shaped by quill in hand
stories of families who tilled the land.

Images projected upon the wall
he writes of town square and city hall.

Characters do battle to share the page
his desk of wood, their lamplit stage.

Adventure, suspense, romantic views
silhouettes dancing in faded hues.

Chapters unfolding with fresh appeal
he'll walk in their path to know how they feel.

A nightly ritual, it's always the same
the oil runs dry and extinguishes the flame.

Ancestors past then bid him goodnight
vowing to return with the kerosine light.


I can't seem to find the picture that goes with this poem - just as a note to keep in mind as you read, the "archways of gold" are lights on the side of a bridge - not in any way connected to the "golden arches"

Oblivious Beauty

A structure of beauty
when viewed from the street
engineering and design
certainly no small feat
the soft yellow glow
that beams through the night
almost makes us forget
what is hidden from sight.

Concealed in the shadows
among the archways of gold
a 14 year old huddles
she's frightened and cold
the streets are no place
for a young girl to roam
but there's no place to go
she can't face life at home.

Deeper in the shadows
away from the street
a homeless man rummages
to find something to eat
his life is now different
been down on his luck
he picks up cans to recycle
just to make a quick buck.

Shouts and then echoes
among the archways of gold
slurred words and obscenities
accompany drugs being sold
prepackaged goods
known as sugar or honey
obscure in the shadows
as they count their money.

At first glance it may appear
that all is fine and well
but look beneath the surface
to see another's private hell
life in the shadows continues
oblivious people travel by
as the beauty of the archways
lights up the midnight sky.


Storybook Dreams

To ride in the coach
a dream of all young girls
grand balls with fine dresses
and tresses of curls.

White gloves to their elbows
a Prince on their arm
with manners and poise
elegance and charm.

Horses prancing
distinguished crown
smiles from peasants
as they ride through town.

Curtsies and bows
as guests are greeted
fine crystal and china
at tables they're seated.

Coy smiles and swoons
as he asks her to dance
she'll lose track of time
could be her last chance.

Twirling and spinning
all through the night
fanning themselves
when heads feel light.

In this storybook dream
at midnight's approach
leaving behind a glass slipper
she heads for her coach.

Cobblestone streets
horses step high
riding through darkness
waving dreams goodbye.


We Are ...

We are the eyes for the blind
and ears for shut-ins.

We carve new paths for those
who have lost their way.

We are dreamers and lovers
by night and day.

We are happiness and sorrow
life and death.

We are heartache and smiles
your fantasy and reality.

We are the wind and sea
the stars, moon, and sun.

We are a whisper, a kiss
or a scream of terror.

We are winter and spring
summer, and fall.

We are love and faith
hate and misfortune.

We are the rich and poor
from all walks of life.

We are teachers to newcomers
young and old.

We are Shakespeare and Byron
Poe and Longfellow.

We are yesterday
today and tomorrow.

We are Poets.


~ Marsha ~

"Abilities wither under faultfinding, blossom with encouragement." -- Donald A. Laird