Soon to come--another work in progress--posting on The Big Read!
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Best Wishes For You, My Friend
Courage to be true,
Honor in all you do,
Integrity you never rue,
Forgiveness for all,
Understanding not to fall,
Nobility to stand tall,
Grace for big and small;
Never forsake these, my friend.
God grant you strength for each here penned.
Honor in all you do,
Integrity you never rue,
Forgiveness for all,
Understanding not to fall,
Nobility to stand tall,
Grace for big and small;
Never forsake these, my friend.
God grant you strength for each here penned.
A Fairy Tale World
The even sky is hidden, clouds hang unbidden.
Rain begins to fall, shadows do grow tall.
Behind a pane glows a light, in a room not too bright,
With a blanket clutched tight, its patches not quite right,
There huddles a little boy, his face lit with joy.
His hands cradle with glee a special key.
This key—special! Rare and like no other!
Rain begins to fall, shadows do grow tall.
Behind a pane glows a light, in a room not too bright,
With a blanket clutched tight, its patches not quite right,
There huddles a little boy, his face lit with joy.
His hands cradle with glee a special key.
This key—special! Rare and like no other!
He turns it again; look, there he is! In a glen far from this lowly den!
He stands straight and tall, to wield a sword, no longer too small,
The doer of many a good deed, and owner of a handsome steed.
All his dreams have come true, a dragon he just slew.
He stands straight and tall, to wield a sword, no longer too small,
The doer of many a good deed, and owner of a handsome steed.
All his dreams have come true, a dragon he just slew.
Miles away in a city house, one with many a mouse,
And other little critters of the night, shines a different light.
This one is smoky and dim, in a room no less grim.
Outside another pane, sounds ceaseless rain;
Close to something she holds, heedless of her tears and cold,
A little girl bends, as a prayer she sends,
For the key she has to work—just one more time.
And other little critters of the night, shines a different light.
This one is smoky and dim, in a room no less grim.
Outside another pane, sounds ceaseless rain;
Close to something she holds, heedless of her tears and cold,
A little girl bends, as a prayer she sends,
For the key she has to work—just one more time.
Look! There she is! No longer covered in grime, but with beauty sublime!
Her gown is long, around her crowds an adoring throng.
Her cascade of curls is adorned with pearls.
No other is so fair, or so stately—anywhere.
Her gown is long, around her crowds an adoring throng.
Her cascade of curls is adorned with pearls.
No other is so fair, or so stately—anywhere.
Just a city section away, is a tall house of grey.
A light shines here too, a here that has nothing in lieu,
A place of plenty; satin and silk, cookies, cake, and milk,
Where all is warm, no matter the storm,
(Which is hardly heard in a place so grand, with everything name brand!)
Here lies a little girl lean and gaunt, who never leaves this haunt.
Her sickness cannot wrench away what she holds before she turns it!
A light shines here too, a here that has nothing in lieu,
A place of plenty; satin and silk, cookies, cake, and milk,
Where all is warm, no matter the storm,
(Which is hardly heard in a place so grand, with everything name brand!)
Here lies a little girl lean and gaunt, who never leaves this haunt.
Her sickness cannot wrench away what she holds before she turns it!
Is that the small lady of wealth? There with a glow of health?
The one with the worn dress? What happened to her shoes is anyone’s guess!
She is smiling, walking, running! The difference is too stunning…
Is this her dream? To dance in a sunbeam?
The one with the worn dress? What happened to her shoes is anyone’s guess!
She is smiling, walking, running! The difference is too stunning…
Is this her dream? To dance in a sunbeam?
“Stop! What is this key? Of what you speak, dare you let me seek?”
This challenge as you throw away your book and give me a look.
“You just had it,” I say. You laugh. “Nay!
“That book has a verse and no more! In blank pages, it has a store…”
“Wait. I’ll show you.” My voice is soft as an adieu.
“In my heart and yours,” reads the script, “Is our very own world,
“Locked away. Pick up a key, and anything is yours.”
“Here.” I hold out a pen. “Here’s my key. You can borrow it.”
This challenge as you throw away your book and give me a look.
“You just had it,” I say. You laugh. “Nay!
“That book has a verse and no more! In blank pages, it has a store…”
“Wait. I’ll show you.” My voice is soft as an adieu.
“In my heart and yours,” reads the script, “Is our very own world,
“Locked away. Pick up a key, and anything is yours.”
“Here.” I hold out a pen. “Here’s my key. You can borrow it.”
This last verse went somewhat awry. The ending should be about reading books, not writing...that I must fix. However, it is now way too late--or rather way too early--and poetry revision will have to wait for another day. Or even later today...just...anytime really, other than right now. :-)
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