In hopes he’ll listen to my words of a world grown cold

This is not a prayer to save our souls, rather plea to believe

Our hearts are still lined with gold.

Man has no qualms of being heartless but he also has none to

LOVE…

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

Must we be scared to dive from the cliff just cause death may present??

Must we hold ourselves stagnant cause one left us cold??

Should we breathe only cause its required not because its worth it??

Should we love only cause its whats we are supposed to do??

Should we die cause one wouldn’t let us live??

Alas we should fight for our chance at life!!!

Alas we steal back our hearts from those who have stolen it!!!

Alas we rejoice for we are meant to live with love and happiness!!!

Everlasting….

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

1 quote 4 that!

‘Be Yourself’

I could write the many things i wish to say,

Here, now, just to enchant your mind

And then, to delete all i wrote, in the next day,

Just to show you that was nothing written yesterday,

And you was blind…

I could write the many things i like to do,

In quick phrases, to satisfy your curiosity, today,

But later, i will erase all the words i wrote you,

And all you’ll see will be a clear background, gray…

I could write a lot of words, describing myself,

Just to show how interesting person i can be,

But right after that i won’t say anything,

And i will leave and let u solve that mystery…

I could write u a collection of books with my life,

Just to show the beauty of Life,

But right after that, i will burn those books,

Cos the complex words are nothing to me,

But only the simplest ones,

Full of truth, cold as ice,

Will be those musical tones,

That i always wish to hear,

So, then, these ones are written but not deleted;

These truths, now, were stated.

@Th3Mirr0r

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Poems – part 1.

so many lay around in worry some just go through life in a hurry some fall down and some climb up ..i just ride around in my old truck living and learning and exploreing life to it’s best stopping at times just to rest in the life is knowledge abode… if you seek it then you shall find gold.. live not for the moment! but live for the end cause everything else in the middle is fun to the end
tis only as easy as making a pie! taking time to make it sweet and rise to the sky! the careing and loving you spend on such a thing , can bring you love and laughter when with someone else you share the same thing. life and love are like cooking a simple pie.. its the time you take to add the extra spice that catches one;s eye.. remember this always for in this world is a must, if you ere forget love will go abust .’copyright 12/19/2009 aka louintexas

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at tis it life?.

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

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at christmas year round.

 Trees decked out in Joseph’s coat

Reds, yellows, orange, rust, green

And every hue in between.

 Leaves dancing and fluttering in the wind

 Drop to earth

In a dizzy spin.

This wonderful display

Is short lived.

Winters winds will soon move in,

 Earth takes on a

Different glow

With the arrival of first white snow.

Bundle up and brave the cold

Use both hands

Your hat to hold.

Quickly scurry to where

You’re going

Because the winds are

Coldly blowing.

Hurry home where the fire glows.

It will toast your frozen toes.

Have yourself a nice

Hot toddy

It will quickly

Warm your body.

Slip off your shoes

Turn the TV on

 Watch the news.

Sleepily walk up the stairs

For your nightly snooze.

Say your prayers

 jump into bed.

Let the winds howl

And scream

While you enjoy

 Some pleasant dream.

Thomas Fenning

10/22/04

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

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.

The song of love is a bright song-
Tho bound in pain and woe-
The song of love is a dear old song-
FROM THE DAYS OF LONG AGO!

Say Darling Say-
When I am far away-
Gone like the days of September-
Will you feel sad,
To think you never had
SENT ME A LINE TO REMEMBER?

Say darling say-
Sumer has sped away-
Summer is gone, with its dreaming;
Oer the hills of home
Cold winds roam-
And goldenrods are gleaming.

Say Darling say-
Life has flown away,
Its so many years since we were young-
Rainbows of Spring,
Once were EVERYTHING-
SEND ME A LINE TO REMEMBER!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Song of Love.

A hundred morners came to eat;
Yaaa..A hundred MOURNERS came to eat;
But none of them was me;
And therre were three Ministers….
Just like the “Fiddlers Three”.

Thirty-five cars went rolling by-
And even the dogs behave-
Because they knew they were hauling George
FROM ROCKHAM, TO THE GRAVE.

Now some day we will see his name
Upon a cold gray stone-
For Angels came from far away-
And George went with them HOME.

I tried to only tell the truth-
But found to my surprise-
That truth is often only tears-
That shine in a womans eyes.

GEORGE, and the days gone by.

As to us all the last day came-
And we laid GEORGE away;
And they sang “Down By the Riverside”-
For thats where he longed to stay.

George was not an old man yet-
He was only sixty-four-
And his long days on the farm were gone-
Like days that come no more!

We plow the fields ED used to know-
We follow the winding ways
Of the quiet creek, when the sun hangs low,
At the end of summer day.
At the end of SUMMER DAYS.

We lift the planks by the old red barn-
And the NIGHT LIGHT burns there still-
We fix the fence, for the BOSS is gone-
Tho it winds o’er many a hill.

The old gray house stands just the same,
As it did all the years before;
And the cement steps where they will walk
Through snow and wind, no more.

And it seems only a little while,
Since that windy day-
When George and Ed cam down to help
Us move the cattle away,

They said GOODBYE to the FARM that day-
The tree lined creek, and the “Medder”-
THEY HELPED US GOOD……I think they knew,
IT WAS THEIR LAST JOG TOGETHER!

They tried to keep their creekside farm
A single Paradise……….
Nor cared to steer their SHIP by the light
THAT SHINES IN WOMENS EYES!

For their LOVE was the lonely farm-
Where now the wild winds roam-
And there was never a Maiden’s Smile
COULD LURE THEM FAR FROM HOME.

DAYS GONE BY

We plow as they the Old Home Fields-
The meadow sings its song-
And all the winds of summer weave
Adown the rows or corn!

They say he’s gone to the FISHING STREAMS,
That are free of EARTHLY PAIN!
tho nobody knows just WHERE HE WENT,
HE GOT THERE JUST THE SAME.

Now we still plow the bottom fields-
We hear the rustling corn-
While all the winds of summer weave-
And the meadow sings its song.

There are no more trips to Rochester;
And tho they cried and cried-
GEORGE has lost all his troubles
DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at They Buried George.