Poems (4)

These are some poems that I wrote a little later on... (I wrote the others almost three years ago)

Grandfather's Hand

The knurled roots of an ancient oak
come to life in the soft glow
of the late Autumn moon
and wave gently back.
The red oak of California
that has stood for countless seasons
and weathered many a storm.
"What have you learned
in all your years
from misery and strife?
And if you could
turn back the clock,
would you,
or would you not?"
"I would not
turn back the clock,
for who knows what that would do?
For I don't want
to risk the life
I have lived here with you."





Heaven's Jewel

Beauty of a pearl
'Tis a wonder to behold
A jewel of heaven






Midnight Hour

The chime of the midnight hour
rang through the town.
A mother with a voice of silk
soothed her crying babe.
With a lullaby of an angel in the clouds,
of a far away place.
She returned to her needle and thread
as the clock struck one.
And gazed across the blueberry fields,
ripe with tomorrow's harvest.






Skating

It beckons me
forward, the
lure of the ice.
So wild so free!
I twirl
in the sunset.





Great Dragon

The great dragon
sparkles in
the late afternoon sun.
Encrusted gems
gleam against his hide
numbering in the thousands.
But though the
gems number many
the dragon's
wisdom is far greater!






Trapped

Trapped in a
cage of glass
she yearns to be free.
But how much
do they know?
Her eyes narrow
she will
soon find out!







Little Monster

I exit the bus of noisy children
And walk across the lawn.
A blanket of white beneath my feet
Crunching louder
With every step I take.
Glass door revealing a pom
With a topaz coat of fur
And a smiling face.
His deep amber eyes gleam with excitement
As I approach.
He paws at the door
Longing to fly, to be free.
I turn the handle
And let the little monster out












Strike While the Head Wears the Crown

Whispers in the wind,
rumors spread,
tales of woe and conquest fill the air.

Some say the Queen is dead,
others that she's hiding.
But all we know for sure:
darkness is rising.

To say that we're scared is one thing,
but saying we're terrified would be closer to the truth.
The Queen is dead or hiding,
she can't help us now.

All my life, darkness gathered
Waiting,
until it can strike while the head wears the crown.