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as yet, untitled - yes woe is me... an untitled poem!
I can carry thoughts
Across the wide blue seas
Crested waves, through any length
All I ask is you believe
Your soul glitters already beyond the sun’s own glow
And what mysteries you hide behind your eyes
I shall endeavor to learn and know
If it was within my power to give you wings…
Flights of fancy lost in dreams of you
A fire feeds and burns with passions brew
And wild flowers sing
Should the earth shake and quiver from
The trembling of my heart
I’d raise up to sky above
And set you down on stars of love
I’d cease to want or care to be
So long as you are flying with me.
Perhaps if I should hold my breath
Till consciousness doth flee away
My head would clear and dreams would pass
With daylight’s dawn and onslaught on its way
Would that you were real, for paths for you I’d gladly clear
Just point in a direction true
I’ll find a path, ask not where nor who
So long as I can spend the time with you.
I see the darkness mazes, flicker in your eyes
The haunted knowing Mona Lisa smiles when you try.
I’d try to banish shadows and bring you light
Always seeking truth in love, and good in right
You’re a world of hurt, a world of pain
With simple touch of palm to palm
I’ll draw it out, the wrong, the blame.
With eyes deeply shut and heart wide open
I can see you through my hidden sight
And feel you by your goodness’ light
Then in my arms’ embraces
Banish shadows, fears, all traces.
In winter’s heart, you stand in cold
Encompassed in artistic hold
And though I possess none of the art
I can stand beside you and warm your heart.
For music dances on your tongue and laughter’s music, then you’re done
In desperate hope that you’ll find your need
This one shall go, for home is where you lead.
- Roy Hall (2004)
This one was for Annie Goth (nickname)... We had a good time writing poetry together, until she discovered I was a Republican. LOL! Liberals... they think they have a monopoly on art.
Thanksgiving Day Dinner
We have our family gathered here,
To talk about another year,
Of children’s teeth and strength of limb,
And who gave birth to another him.
The table almost makes a sound,
As yet more burden is inbound,
A noble bird makes its last flight,
And joins us for a feast tonight.
With mashed potatoes, candied yams,
Peas and corn, and sugared hams,
Cranberry sauce to please the eye,
And don’t forget the pumpkin pie.
A bowl of gravy, steaming hot,
And Grandmom’s soup in the old stewpot,
Some buttered rolls and special bread,
But not a bite ‘til Grace is said.
Before you help to pass the bowls,
The One Who helped you reach your goals,
Is listening for your voices clear,
To give Him thanks is why we’re here.
Please just be patient for a mite,
And hold in check your appetite,
The Lord will get His just desserts,
With each strong voice that Love asserts.
NicknamedBob . . . . . November 21, 2004
© 2004