Resting Place

Writing a poem with a migraine headache is pretty draining.  But I couldn't sleep and I was antsy so I did it anyways.  I think it turned out alright, hope you guys enjoy it.  Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading guys!

Resting Place
 
Twas on that dark and starry night,
that I set out by firelight.

To be alone with you once more,
and reminisce the days of yore.

As I approached your resting place,
my heart and head began to race.

"I brought these flowers for you to keep,
at your side while you sleep.

I just want to let you know,
a couple things before I go."

I knelt my weary body down,
and tried to fight the looming frown.

"Do you remember that day we met?
we talked and talked, until sunset."

At your side, I stayed till morn,
and told the story of the love we'd sworn.

It's now time that I most go,
but there's one more thing, that you must know.

I love you more then the word can say,
I'll see you again, when death comes my way.

The Road We've Taken

This next poem tells a story.  It's a look into the history of a tradition, a tradition of my family and friends.  A tradition that we cherish, but one we don't always think about. It's just there, and has become a part of us, changing and growing as we do, yet remaining the same at it's core.  I hope those of you who read this are reminded of these not so thought of traditions in your lives; and are able to relive, reminisce, and cherish the subtleties of life.   Enjoy!

The Road We've Taken 

A mile long loop,
of hard packed dirt.
A mother, a father, a little red wagon
pulling their children in their wake.
A grandmother, a grandson, an adventure
comparing treasures picked from the road.
A jog in the morning, a walk in the afternoon, a stroll at night,
5 deer, 2 rabbits, and a turtle, maybe a skunk.
A boyfriend, a girlfriend, and a long distance call,
pacing back and fourth arguing alone.
A midnight expedition with the whole crew and all,
"Shooting stars, U.F.O.'s, wolves, and a bear?"

She was an old dirt road,
old cabins lined her, that hadn't aged well,
others received face-lifts over the years.
Apple trees old and twisted,
now-a-days lacking apples, yet their beauty remains.
Views of the lake, as the setting sun paints it,
yards for grazing, where the wild life play.
Rotting apples and piles of poop,
reasons to watch your feet as a car passes by.

Shirts ringing wet from the pouring rain,
we still walked, muddy shoes and all.
Sweat rolled down our face from the sweltering heat,
we still walked, panting and dragging hind dog.

She's touched my sole, as well as others,
My grandparents, parents and brother as well,
Aunt's, Uncles, and cousins a like,
neighbors, friends, and of course girlfriends too.
Don't forget the dogs, who marked her their own.

Shes gone now, that old dirt road of ours.
You can bury our old girl,
but you can't pave over our memories,
our tradition.
It may not be the road less taken,
but it's the road we chose.

Hourglass

This poem was written after my grandfather passed in April 2009.  Please don't let that fact scare you away from telling me what you think about this poem, because I really value and appreciate true reactions and thoughts to my poetry.  I want to know what you really think about it, comments only help me learn new things.  Thanks for reading my work.  There will definitely be more to come, I'm hoping to write some more new product in the real near future as well.

Hourglass

He's a tired old man,
His years have slipped away
like sands in an hour glass,
slowly, gradually,
wearing away at his body.
Each grain, a moment,
a memory,
slipping through the narrow space
we know as the present.
Coming to rest, mingling, and mixing
with others that we store deep inside.
He now lays in bed,
unable to walk,
unable to hear,
his vision been gone
for many a year.
Only a few specks remain,
waiting to fall,
used not anymore
to store memories,
but to recount,
and wade through those
made once before.

No longer responding
to those around him,
yet interacting
with the unseen,
showing excitement,
and wonder,
like a child
who maintains his innocence.
It won't be to long now,
he lies quiet,
no expression on his face,
no life, behind his eyes.
His breathing slows,
little, by little
each breath farther apart,
shorter, shallower
then the last
till there was nothing,
his body completely limp,
lifeless.
He slipped away so peacefully,
so tranquil,
the way it should be.

The begining

Poetry seems to be a dieing art.  There are still people who hold a passion for poetry, but it is that community only who reads poetry for the most part these days.  I'm hoping that people from this community will find this blog and enjoy reading and commenting on my poetry.  I would love to discuss poems with you whether it be one of mine, yours or a well known poem that you would like to talk about.  Consider this a poetry club of sorts.  I would love to read your poems and give you feed back on your work.  Yes, I am a poetry enthusiast; but I also have a background in literature too.  I graduated from the University of Michigan with a BA in English based in Literature, I also have an AA in Journalism.  I just self published my first poetry book based on a book I created for an artist book making class.  The title is From one generation.... To the next! It is comprised of poems written by my grandmother and poems written by myself each of which have to do with the topic of Time/aging in some way.  If you like a copy Just leave a comment and I'll give you the information (They're $5.) I'll leave you with a poem for the day:


What have you to say?

When that day arrives,
with your demise,
what have you to say?

"I love you dear,
don't shed a tear,
for it will be okay,

you must be strong,
and carry on,
I have to go away,

we will meet once more,
like the days of yore,
but amid this life gay."

To your children who mourn,
to whom love you've sworn,
what can you profess?

"I love you so,
though death doth blow,
you mustn't take distress,

for part of me,
is part of thee,
and that you can caress,

you must go fore,
and your life adore,
from this you can't digress."

Was your life fulfilled,
or left untilled,
what have you to say?

"A life proofread,
would look better instead,
though to my dismay.

The things I've done,
I'd trade for none,
for if I'd changed my way,

this family of mine,
would not be thine,
and to that I shout a nay."