The sting of the wind
On this cold spring day Reminds me of my Ancestors who rode This same wind As they trudged to work On early shift.
This connection, now, is
In my blood Deep in what I mean When I say these words In tones that rhyme.
Words that would’ve
Carried meaning in those Hungry days When this same old Mottled sky’d Pleased the eye of Those infected with These old discontents.
So, in this frail copse
Of poplar trees and Hawthorn bushes A moment’s respite Is offered me As I watch these birds Swing into this ghost Ridden air
And, just for a
Moment, I’m not there. Poems about History Poems about Memory Nice Poems on Old
Have something to say about the poem?
A city prepares to die. What is the real time now for blemishing the skin of a man? In your violet eyes I will find a moon for an encounter. An alien wall comes up between us.We cannot shed the
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the
We Start every morning like the old Silver Fox We get out of breath putting on our socks We look in the mirror and make such a fuss there’s two old people looking back at us We stumble to the
What I would tell you, only if I could I would tell you that I love you in the morning, over our morning coffee I would tell you that I love you, through a text, to see when we could
Only God’s love can find us Only the love we have in Jesus Is all the mercy to heal us From heartbreak and sorrow Fear of tomorrow The longing we carry inside Of our broken hearts Only God’s power and