The
Day
And
Sleep.
The
Time
To
Weep
In
Futile
Sorrow
Will
Come
Tomorrow,
If
Weep
We
Must.
Leave
Loss
Aside
And
Ride
A
Dream
Of
Peace
And
Blessed
Rest,
Until
Once
More
Again
We
Rise
Above
Our
Pain.
Forget
The Day And Sleep. The Time To Weep In Futile Sorrow Will Come Tomorrow, If Weep We Must. Leave Loss Aside And Ride A Dream Of Peace And Blessed Rest, Until Once More Again We Rise Above Our Pain.
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It
Is A Thing That Must Be Done Alone, To Find The Figure Hidden Within The Stone. A Solitary Task, Suited Up To Take The Blast Of Dust, In Goggles And A Must, The Tiresome Respirator To Save My Lungs. And There She Was, The Humble Torso Unsung, Unfinished, And Yet, I Took It As Far As I Could Get. To
The East, Light Thickens As If Approaching Night. Nature Has Ways To Catch Mankind’s Attention, Fires And Floods, Not To Mention Volcanoes That Spew, Earthquakes And Now, A New Disease Has Come To Call, Aiming To Wipe Out One And All. Presently, A Cloud Of Thick Sahara Sand And Dust Is Coming To Settle In A Dismal Crust, To Mix Life Up Like A Stew, And There’s Absolutely Nothing We Can Do. A
Pitiless Division, Knife Cut With Precision, Divides The Perfect Fruit. The Pale Meat Is Firm And Tartly Sweet. The Seed, A Flattened, Nutlike Thing, Does Not Cling, And Holding It Over A Cup, I Eat It Up. Defiant
Not To Be Life’s Client, My Impulse Was To Be Free, Deny Every Confine Of Society And Make It Fit My Wily Style. For Years I Existed On A Smile And A Strong Back To Make Up For What I Lacked. Funny How I Was Mistaken About The Truth, Trampled Somewhere In My Heedless Youth, But Now I Can See I Painted The Timeless Secrets Into The Present Me. The
Salary, Whereof Was But Small, I Quit The Bank And Left It All, To Marry And Domesticate With A Headlong, Reckless, Mate, An Irish Dreamer Full Of Charm, And On His Arm Crashed Into Life, Myself As Wife. Soon Joined By A Perfectly Wild, Precious Child, We Did Our Level Best, And Well, You Know The Rest. I’d
Write About The Passing Scene, But Honey, Its Gotten Too Damn Mean. Hard To Make A Jolly Rhyme In Such A Desperate Time. A Madman Is At The Helm, Destroying Daily Our Little Realm, And Threats Arise The Sun May Fall Down From The Skies, And For A Lark, Leave Us Poor Fools In The Dark. Press On, Neighbors, What Else Can We Do? It All Comes Down To Me And You To Somehow Struggle Through. Fairy
Tales Find A Way To Say What We Yearn To Believe, That Any Day Our Prince Will Come And Life Will Cease To Be Humdrum. That Beauty And Grace Dwell In An Imagined Place, Far From Daily Chores And A Host Of Tiresome Bores. In Our Dreams It Seems We Take The Rainbow Road To, With A Kiss, Fulfill Our Wish And Reveal A Handsome Lover Within A Warty Toad. Buried
Deep, Relics Sleep, Fragments Of The Past Linger Until The Last Battle Horn Sounds, And Warrior Memories Of Youth Are Taken From The Ground. What Remains Of Uncharted Pains, Cannot Be Seen, And The Green Verdure Where They Lay Is Exposed To The Light Of Present Day, Too Late For Tears That Cannot Bridge The Years. Wow!
Can’t Tell You How, Haven’t A Moment Now, Though I Can Swear I Have A Lot To Share, But Hey, I’m Late, It Will Have To Wait, Don’t Take It Wrong, So Long! |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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