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Viewing 1 - 6 out of 6 Blogs.


Yesterday
Posted On 03/22/2008 20:52:49

Downward spirals out of control
Try not to look back, try hard to let go.

Memories flying past
Yesterday is gone to fast.
With a moment left to reason
It was never meant to last.

A misty fog engulfs the shadows
Of days long gone by.
Leaving the spirits of yesterday
Wandering aimlessly
In the farthest corners 
Of my mind.

Time, it seems to go so slowly
As each fleeting second
Leaves a permanent mark.
On the quest for tomorrow
Do the footprints of today
           Embark.

Tags: Poetry Writing


The Dying Spirit
Posted On 03/20/2008 21:18:35

When I longed to stand beside you,
When I reached out to take your hand,
I turned and looked
To where you stood,
But you were no longer there.

If I cried a thousand years
My heart, It would not heal.
My soul would yearn,
But never learn,
To accept
That your not coming home again.

Only you could cure this heartache,
Only you could take my hand,
Open my eyes up,
Make me see,
make me understand.

Oh, how I cried,
When it came time,
To say that last good-bye.

I stood there,
As I stand now,
Refusing to believe,
Refusing to see,
That you are gone.
You will never be
Coming back home to me.

I kneel and I touch,
The fresh mound
Of dirt at my feet.
As I look up,
Through tear filled eyes I see,
The name upon the stone
That marks the grave,
Of the one I loved,
The one that left me
All alone.

It was always you
Who would wipe the tears from my eyes.
It was always you
Who would comfort me
Under cloudy skies.
It was always you
Who would cheer me up
When I was down.

But now you are gone,
My heart is broken,
My tears abound.
How will I ever go on without you?
How will I learn to survive?
Who will wipe away my tears,
And comfort me under this cloudy sky?


I feel that every breathe I take,
Will be my last within this life.
Emptiness fills my lonely soul,
You took my spirit with you,
The day
That you died.

Tags: Poetry Writing


School Bus Driver
Posted On 03/20/2008 16:54:25

 

There are only a few of us
Who have what it takes
To drive that big yellow bus.

Nerves made of steel
Patience built to last.
A good sence of humor.
Ability,
To let the small things pass.


Kind but firm
Are the words you speak.
As you look back in your mirror
Over all 22 seats.

The chatter is never ending.
And laughter will abound.
If you don't have
What it takes
Your head will surely pound.

Some days may seem easy.
Others especially hard.
People say, "You must be crazy!"
You reply, "I love my job."

You let out a sigh
When Sarah cries for Mommy.
You shake your head
When Johnny wets his pants.

You keep your cool
When Tommy won't listen
And Maggie
Stands in the aisle to dance.

The little ones have a way
Of warming up your heart.
And even the high schoolers
Though they won't admit it,
Will be your friends
From the very start.

Soon enough a bond has formed
And your 'students'
Become your 'kids'.
Even the ones
That claim to hate you
All year long,
Will say they'll miss you
When summer break
Comes along.

And when you are impatient
And want the school year to end,
After a little rest
You're ready
To drive that
Big yellow bus
......Again.

Tags: Poetrywriting


Good Night Angel
Posted On 03/20/2008 16:48:50

 

Lonely girl
Sits in the corner
Of a cold dark room.
Her life has been nothing
But despair and gloom.

Tears stream down
Her pretty face
She knows she's
A loner
A total disgrace.

Torn between pain
And the loved ones
She will leave behind,
Confusion batters
Her already feeble mind.

An open bottle of pills
Sits waiting on the floor.
She struggles
She cries
She screams.
She just can't
Take it
Anymore.


She's loved
She's laughed
She's cried.
She wanted a friend
God knows
She tried.

No one would have her
They pushed her away.
Many would ignore her
Or lie to get their way.

"No one will miss me
They want me to die."

And with a shaking hand,
She scribbles a final good-bye.

"I'm sorry.
I hope you understand.
All of you I love.
It's me I can not stand.
My life is a failure.
My mind is a mess.
Too many I've hurt
I've caused too much distress.
Everything I do
Is wrong.
With nobody
Do I belong.
I've cried out for help,
But no one see's my pain.
Why should anyone care?
What have they to gain?
I promise it didn't hurt.
I promise I didn't suffer.
Give my love
To those who will miss me.
Tell them all
I'll still love them forever."

She takes the pills
Then lies down to sleep.
Never to awaken again.


But her spirit lives on.
Keeping watch
From above
Over her few
Faithful friends.

Goodnight Angel
Rest in peace.
May your spirit live on
May your soul now be free.

 

 

 

Tags: Poetrywriting


Baby Blue Rocker
Posted On 03/20/2008 15:40:56

 

In a cozy little cabin
Sitting high up in the snow covered mountains,
Far away from the city below
Lies a woman
Wrapped in the arms of her lover.
Their bodies warmed
By the fires' soft, amber glow.

While miles away
On the outskirts of town,
A man labors for his wages,
In the dark, dusty mines
Far beneath the ground.

He works hard, at a dangerous job,
To provide for his lovely wife.
To him, she is,
The very breath that gives him life.

The hours slowly pass by
As thoughts of her, are always on his mind.
A smile escapes,
Brightening his dust covered face,
As he pictures her there
Awaiting his return home.
He sees her there, waiting for him
In the baby blue rocker he gave her,
For their first anniversary.

As he walks up the steps
Of their front porch,
She smiles sweetly
And welcomes him home
Into her open arms.

She was only fifteen
When they exchanged vows.
She was a picture of beauty
In her Mothers' satin gown.

It's been twenty long years
Since he placed that ring upon
her finger.
Surrendering unto her
His undying love,
In a moment he will always remember.

Growing up in such a small town
Mining was the way of life.
As young girls, the women knew
That they, like their Mothers,
Were destined to become
A coal miners wife.

At an early age they learned,
The dangers the men faced
Each and every day,
For the sake of keeping food on the table,
And to have a warm bed at night
In which to lay.

They saw the grief stricken faces
Of the women, whose husbands
The Lord had called home.
They knew the meaning all too well,
Of what it meant to be alone.

She loved her husband
With all of her heart,
But loneliness preyed upon her
From the very start.

Five years or so after they married,
She couldn't bear staying home anymore.
She took a job as a checkout girl,
Down out the local General Store.

It was only a matter of time until,
A young lawyer walked into the store.
He was looking to get directions
To the cabin, left to him
By a relative some time ago.

The moment her eyes met his,
They instantly melted her heart.
It was from that moment on.
The little cabin and that young man
Became her refuge
From a lonely heart.

But she was always there,
Waiting on the porch by the door
When her husband was due back home.
And for twenty years, she would welcome him,
With open arms,
As the joy of seeing her
Through his weary, blue eyes shown.

But then came the day,
As everyone in town knew it would.
An explosion was heard in the distance
That put a hush over that little town.
And with an ashen face,
There in the doorway
Of their home she stood.

And in an instant,
The guilt consumed her,
It was more than she could take.
The love that she had taken for granted
Was gone,
She had lost,
Her dear husband, to a miners cruel fate.

She no longer went to the cabin,
To be with her lover of fifteen years.
Instead, she spent her days
In tears, alone,
In that baby blue rocker
Knowing that her Jake,
Would never again,
Be coming home.

She passed away, many years later,
At the age of seventy-four.
They say they found her,
With her arms open wide,
Her tears long gone,
In that baby blue rocker
By the door.

 

Tags: Poetrywriting


My Poetry
Posted On 03/20/2008 14:46:14

My poetry saves me
From a feeble soul.
Without poetry
Life would take its toll.

An escape from daily madness
A new road, never traveled.
A secret place within myself
Where I can go
Just to unravel.

Poetry is my Journal.
My account of life events.
Poetry is a story
That tells where I have been.

Read my words
Then you will see,
That you
Can take a glimpse
Of what lies
Inside of me.

Special are the words
That flow from soul to paper.
The power behind the verse
Is a trait rarely mastered.

I take pride in the words I write.
It is my own unique art.
Poetry is the one thing
That will never change.
My poetry and I
Will never part.

Tags: Poetrywriting





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