Past yesterday’s townhouses.

In each nostalgic molecule

Is something, which arouses.

Old lessons learned so long ago

(Viola, drums or trigon)

Resurface, just enough to know:

Those tunes aren’t fully bygone.

A new sound crashes near the bay,

And shakes the stone rotunda.
The sky shows nature’s cabaret,

With sudden roaring thunder.

Brief moments pass, and summer heat

(Which caused the town to swelter))

Gives way to frantic dampening feet,

Which find a tunnel’s shelter.

Some recent wounds are laundered clean;

But past lives’ recollection

Remains, where tables and caffeine

Accompany retrospection.

The railway tracks are drowned in rain,

Up on the bridge, forestalling

The movement of the peak hour train;

As time froze memories falling.

An hour of this would irk some folk;

But nature gives a quarter,

So ferns and flowers can quickly soak
Themselves in purest water.

Then skies, which were extremely dark

(To back-project on lightning)

Conclude their cloud-to-cloud skylark,

With sunshine slowly brightening.

Those footsteps cling to water drops,

When they resume their movement:

Brief souvenirs of how life stops,

And starts with cleansed improvement.

Should company find its calling here,

The call would be for cuddles,

And sharing views of boats and pier,

With boots in smaller puddles.

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This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at CABARET OF THE CLOUDS.

Have you ever considered?

How fortunate you are

To gaze at the sky

And see a star,

And say to yourself

I wonder how many there are?

To walk through a garden

And smell the rose.

Skip through dewy grass

In your bare feet and toes

Before the sun arose?

 Take long walks on

A crisp fall day.

Build a snowman

On a cold wintry night

Giving him eyes of coal

And a nose carrot bright.

Swim in a creek

On a warm summers noon.

Ride a roller coaster

At a county fair,

Or spin in a Ferris wheel

And view the world from the air.

 Ride in a convertible,

With wind ruffling your hair.

Build a sandcastle

In a secluded cay

Only to have a wave

 Wash it away.

Go deep-sea fishing

On a party boat

Only to return home

With an empty tote.

Explore the bright moon

Lighting the sky at night

Wondering what it would be like

To go they’re in flight.

Watch an Eagle soar high in the sky

Floating on air currents

And wondering how and why,

Then suddenly

Swoop down

And snatch its prey

It saw from so far away.

Tom Fenning

2004

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Fortunate.

She looked at me, and her deep dark eyes,
Where the shadows, when twilight is dim-
And I talked with her Grandma-
Beside the old boat,
That travels the Waves, no more!

Such a little time, we have in this world-
Where waves and winds are free!
And the sun shines down, from the drifting sky,
Such a little time, till the years go by-
Little GIRL, and her Grandma, and……me.

Then she emptied the basket,
Her brown hands held,
Of driftwood, to dry on the sand-
A small girl of China-
Only seven years old-
Little girl…..of a far away Land!

Dark were her eyes-
Like her pitiful life-
By the shore of the boundless sea-
And…the overturned wreck of a lonely boat-
Was her HOME, but the sounding sea!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at DARK WERE HER EYES.

We saw again the river flow,
WHERE THE LINCOLN GUNBOATS LAY!
WE HEARD THE DRUMS THAT LED THE BOYS
FROM ‘LANTA TO THE BAY.

We saw Old Lincoln, on his knees,
All quiet like….to pray…..
THAT THEY COULD CUT ACROSS THE SOUTH-
A THOUSAND MILES AWAY!

Old Lincoln was so much like me-
I know his spirit cried,
For all the sarrows in this world-
And……the young BOYS that died!

WE HEARD AGAIN, THE ROLLING DRUM-
We heard the Bugal BLOW-
Tho all these VISIONS, drifted by
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Dream Boat.

Have you ever considered?

How fortunate you are

To gaze at the sky

Bejeweled by stars

And say to yourself

I wonder how many there are?

To walk through a garden

And smell the rose.

Skip through lush dewy fescue

In your bare feet and toes

Before the sun arose?

Take long walks on

A crisp fall day.

Letting your woes

Stay they lay.

Build a snowman

On a cold wintry night

Giving him eyes of coal

And a nose carrot bright.

Swim in a creek

On a warm summers noon.

Washing away

Sadness and gloom.

Ride a roller coaster

At a county fair,

Or spin in a Ferris wheel

And view the world from the air.

Ride in a convertible,

With wind ruffling your hair.

Cleansing the mind

From the days care.

Build a sandcastle

In a secluded cay

Only to have a wave

 Wash it away.

Go deep-sea fishing

On a party boat

Only to return home

With an empty tote.

Explore the bright moon

Lighting the sky at night

Wondering what it would be like

To go they’re in flight.

Watch an Eagle soar high in the sky

Floating on air currents

Zig zaging side to side

Then suddenly

Swoop down

And snatch its prey

It saw from far away.

Tom Fenning

2004

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Fortunate.

Banished the victim that sat in the dark
Watched as the wreckage boarded boats to embark
The suicide mission left a corpse of the soul
Bit on the bullet that ate at the hole
As the lyrics are written on the tomb of demise
All the old pieces are broken down lies
Pretend that the missing are remembered in time
Theyโ€™ve given their speeches and fallen in line

Quiet excursions clear the mind for re-birth
Perspective yields promise of a widening girth
Fed from the blessings at fortitudeโ€™s table
Found myself hungry and found myself able

Copyright SGW 2008

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Altered.

Related links:
– Encounter South Africa
– Andries Pretorius
– Dingaan kaSenzangakhona

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Blood river train.

My soul was in a slumber

Then you came and showered

Your fragrance through your kisses

And awakened me from my sleepโ€ฆ

I am now imprisoned in a solitary

Cell, of your ardent love.

The heart yearns for looking out,

To see the vistas of green plush valleys;

Sylvan hills, where the nymphs roam;

The stream where the thousand suns

Envisions through bubbles and foams;

Where the green paddy fields ripple

In the breeze, and the lonely man angling

For a stray fish and sings his

Favorite lines, of a popular ballad;

Where, the one legged stork watch

The clouds wandering over the distant

Horizon, casting a shadow, over the

Dales. and the hills on its sojourn;

Where, the boatman sings a mournful lyric

And rows happily against the tideโ€ฆ.

The rain splattering on the placid lake

Making tiny holes in the surfaceโ€ฆ.

Where the rain drips through the leaves

Of the needle trees, in lustrous rivulets;

Where the urchins play and gleefully

Jump naked, into the murky pond.

Your soothing fingers caressing my nape,

While you stand close, embracing me,

Arouse me from these reveries of the

Long forgotten fantasies, suddenly

I realize, that all these are embedded

In your feather touchโ€ฆโ€ฆโ€ฆโ€ฆ

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Feather touchโ€ฆโ€ฆ..