She
Loved,
And
Art,
Went
At
Life
With
An
Eager
Heart,
And
Lived
To
Reach
The
Century
Mark,
Before
She
Slipped
Away,
Into
The
Dark.
I Still
Lovingly
Recall
All
She
Had
To
Teach
Me
Of
Gracious
Beauty
Divine,
And
How
To
Make
A
Scrap
Of
It
Mine.
Music
She Loved, And Art, Went At Life With An Eager Heart, And Lived To Reach The Century Mark, Before She Slipped Away, Into The Dark. I Still Lovingly Recall All She Had To Teach Me Of Gracious Beauty Divine, And How To Make A Scrap Of It Mine.
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I Promise
I’ll Finish This Current Piece Of Prose And Paint, But That Ain’t The Way It Goes. I Just Write On, And Am Never Done. It May All Be Only For Myself, And Wind Up On My Crowded Shelf, But I Still Have A Lot To Say, And Will Paint Another Day. A
Rare, Rain Drenched Day, The Air Dense And Gray, Wind Blowing Showers Past To Streak The Window Glass And Dim The Light Into A Lasting Night. Tilling
We Plant Our Seeds In Loving Hope, And If The Harvest Fails To Come, Struck Dumb, We Must Plow On, Turning Over The Clay Of Yesterday, To Find Another Way. He’s
The Kind Of Man Who Would Wreck Your Chaste Plans, And Slowly, Passionately, Love You All Up, Hot To Hold As A Coffee Cup, Then Cover You In Frost, And That’s The Cost Of Falling In With Such Persuasive Men, But Then Again… Come
With Me, Morning Is Soon, And We Will See What’s Left Of The Moon, Or If It’s Gone, Swallowed By The Dawn. We Have So Little Time To Track The Moon’s Slow Climb And Gentle Fall, But If We Hurry, We Can See It All. Dear
Miss Clarke Was Afraid Of The Dark, And Would Never Dare To Walk In The Park, Did Not Care For The Country Life, Crammed With Unknown Potential Strife, So Lived In Town, With Plenty Of Policemen All Around. Alas, It Came To Pass, She Cut Her Thumb On A Piece Of Glass, Expired Under A Hundred Watt Light, And Was Carried Away On A Bright Sunny Day. It
Was A Long Time Ago, You Know, And In Another Place, But I Recall His Face Like Yesterday, As He Drifted Away Like A Ship Leaving Port, Breaking Hearts For Sport. Doubt
Prompts The Heart To Regress, Uncertainty A Caltrop To My Progress As I Hesitate, Then Take The Plunge, Fear To Expunge. Down
Through The Fields Where Wild Rage Grows, Along The Path Where No Honest Soul Goes, You Will Come To The Place Evil Spirits Dwell, Humming Their Death Knell, Stirring A Simmering Caldron Of Vicious Lies To Beguile The Unwise Into Treason, For Crass Political Reasons, And Will Cackle And Gloat As They Steal Your Vote. Don’t Believe What They Sell, And Send Them All Back To Hell. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
June 2023
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