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

Glory and the smell of lightning
And I, my mouth full of salt
Gazing on the polished stone
Of a silk-purple draped palace

Pleading at the threshold
No heed for the crystal sphere
Already emptied from pockets
Stomach starving from fear

The already delivered cry
“Lord have mercy on me!”
A sound not heard from hell
But a lonely heart’s mourning

Warmed by a breeze of breath
Becoming known in knowing
Commingled but never confused
Many by grace one, yet many

(Non-commercial reuse free provided attribution)
http://nothinghypothetical.wordpress.com/2010/02/25/no-heed-for-the-crystal-sphere/

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at No Heed for the Crystal Sphere.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Sun rise… sun set…..

And soon after his next birthday, her old mansion would be sold,

Since she died, and he would miss them both, as nine years changed the date.

He completed school, did two years work, and started college late.

(2)At the end of his first Uni year, he used semester break,

To get on his pushbike, ride ten miles, and use the street to take

Some new photographs of that old house, that stood in Memory Lane.

Then a lady pulled up in the drive, and Tom had to explain.

(3)So he told her how he’d visited his great aunt, and she’d died.

She invited him to take more pictures of the house inside.

They exchanged their names, and hers was Angel. She had long blond hair,

And she wore a dark blue dress, which caught his eyes and made him stare.

(4)Angel showed him in, and chatted, as the camera’s shutters moved

More than those beside the windows, and he noticed she approved

Of his dedicated efforts to preserve the life he’d known.

He used up his roll of film, while she was talking on the phone.

(5)He soon asked her if he could come back, when he had bought some more.

She took out an unused roll of film she’d kept in her desk drawer.

“You can have this as a gift, if you could stay for lunch as well,”

Angel told him, and he found himself enchanted by her spell.

(6)With her wedding ring to think of, he stayed focused on the shots

That he took of her interiors, while Angel warmed some pots.

She prepared a tasty pasta, which they ate, while she detailed

How she’d married, bought the house, and then her husband’s health had failed.

(7)For two years she’d been a widow, and the house was now a shrine,

And the memories of their lost loved ones would start to intertwine,

As a thirty year old widow, and a boy were growing fond

Of each other, with that mansion as a setting for a bond.

(8)He told stories of old visits there, and picnics on the lawn.

Then the sunlight shone upon her face, as Angel had to yawn.

She proposed that they might have the next day’s lunch out on the grass,

And he thought of Angel married, when those years had had to pass.

(9)Now they shared the common ground, specifically that block of land,

And the ghosts they knew that no-one else could ever understand.

He accepted her proposal, and soon bought a “Thank you” card,

And some chocolates, which he handed her, as they walked through her yard.

(10)They enjoyed the picnic lunch, and she invited him to stay,

For a chat up on the balcony, and let him lead the way.

She was thrilled by how he knew his way around each nook and cranny,

And he told her how he’d used the cellar once, to hide from Nanny.

(11)They walked out onto the balcony, and Tom said, “When I came,

I was glad to see the garden and the house looked just the same.

It feels just like fifteen years ago, on days when my great aunt

And I both looked out at every creeper vine and growing plant.”

(12)”Tom, you’re sweet to buy me chocolates,” Angel candidly responded,

“And it’s nice the way we’ve shared the stories of this house and bonded.

For the first time, I’ve met someone who has helped me break the seal,

Of the lonely widow syndrome, but I don’t know how you feel.”

(13)”I feel nice,” said Tom, “It’s special to be spending two days here.”

Angel thanked him and then asked, “But have I got the wrong idea?
What I mean, is: Do you like me, or do you just like this place?”

He had never had a girlfriend. Now this doll was giving chase.

(14)”Yes, I really like you, Angel. I’m just scared to mix my past

With a future that could hurt me, if your feelings might not last.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, and she said, “You’re the younger man.

But you’ve thought this out so deeply, since your visits here began.

(15)I have turned away proposals from each Dick, and every Harry,

But not every Tom, because you’re one, whom I would love to carry

Me across the threshold in the future, once we two have dated

For the next two years, until such time as you have graduated.”

(16)Tom said, “When I first met you, I was unnerved about one thing,

As I came to take the pictures, and I saw your wedding ring.

I still thought it would be wrong to interrupt your right to grieve.

With my photographs all taken, I decided I should leave.”

(17)”You don’t have to leave,” said Angel, “With your help, my grief has gone.

If you’d like to see some more of me, I’m ready to move on.”

“I sure would,” said Tom, “if I don’t disappoint you. Being new

To this dating thing, I guess you’ll have to teach me what to do.”

(18)Summer sun lit up the garden, but the balcony was shady,

As she smiled and moved towards him. “Have you ever kissed a lady?”

Angel asked. He said, “I’ve never had a girlfriend, so to speak. ”

Then she smiled, and put one hand behind his neck, and kissed his cheek.

(19)Then she placed her other arm around his back, and took the lead,

As she taught him every kissing move, until they both agreed,

That the time had come to move inside and use the couch instead.

They were both too clean in mind, to jump the gun, and use the bed.

(20)They sat on the couch, and felt the cushions underneath them dip,

And he ran each finger slowly over her soft lower lip.

They embraced, and felt their touching cheeks was unity assured,

As Tom realized this vacation would leave no time to be bored.

(21)She’d inherited a chain of fashion stores, that dealt in flowers

As a sideline to enhance the atmosphere in business hours.

As the owner, she could take time off, to coincide with his,

Angel told him, as she poured some lemonade that kept its fizz.

(22)With the daylight saving sunlight still to last for quite a while,

Angel’s bicycle and his went wheeling round, until a mile

Of her suburb had been covered, and he hazarded a guess

That her own department store supplied her flowery white long dress.

(23)”I designed this one myself,” she said, “with flowers in pale red.

They’re the same as those that grow around the mansion’s old back shed.

Then the “tailor made” department had it made in several days.

Will you let me read your college work: those stories, and the plays?”

(24)She was lost in everything he wrote; and used her drawing skill

To make illustrations for the novels he worked on, until

One book publisher, who’d previously turned his books away,

Had a change of heart, and knew that now the customers would pay.

(25)When his college course was finished, and he didn’t have to cram,

Putting dates with her on hold, the night before his last exam,

He rode out of university, a bachelor of study

Up to Angel’s suburb, skidding on some road that rain made muddy.

(26)He fell off the bike, and hit his head, and passed out on the road,

Where his girlfriend lived, while clouds above went into downpour mode.

Then eventually her car pulled up, when she came driving by,

And she thought that he was dead, and stroked his head, and had to cry.

(27)”Tom, I loved you more than even my old husband. It’s not fair,”

Angel wept, as he woke up, and felt her fingers on his hair.

“It’s alright. I skidded off the road, fell down, and then I must

Have collapsed, once I had hit my head, and ended up concussed.

(28)Roadside grass has saved me from a bruise. I’m glad you came and found

Me down here, and kept me safe, since there was no-one else around.”

She secured the car, and left it, and they walked the pushbike in,

And she bandaged his right hand with rolls of something soft and thin.

(29)Angel gently held his hands and said, “I thought I’d lost another,

And before we could get married.” Then she used her lips to smother

Him with countless lovely kisses. Tom said, “Does this really mean,

That you’re seriously willing to get married? I’m still keen.

(30)And in fact, that’s why I cycled up. I hope this isn’t rash.

Could you help me open this? My hands are clumsy from the crash.”

He took out a small container, and she lifted up the lid,

And she saw a wedding ring, and said, “Of course I’m still keen, kid.

(31)Now I guess it’s time to take this old ring off, and start anew.”

“You don’t need to take it off,” said Tom, “I’m sure there’s room for two,

Your first ring is on your right hand, as a memory and a token,

And this new one tells the world the sleeping widow has awoken.”

(32)”I can’t believe how sweet you are,” said Angel, “I’ll do what you’ve said,

Now I think you should lie down, since you just hurt your handsome head.

I’ll still stay and keep you company, and make some wedding plans.”

They discussed things, and her sports car soon drove westward, dragging cans.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at THE MANSION IN MEMORY LANE.

An Angel helped me write these lines-
She is always here with me!
Im sending HER to you today,
In a dreamers poetry!

I tell her “fly away out WEST!”
“Across the prairies wide-
And help a heart to find her rest-
The lonely bed beside!

Thy say there is a better land-
And it must surely be-
Or else why would an Angel come
And…..stay an hour……with me?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at A Better Land.

The endless plains reach on-
Nor know the dawning-
WORDS ON THE SKY-
WHO TAKES CARE OF MY SHEEP?

Who looks after the Fold?
Why did God MAKE THEM?
to seek for HOME, within
A heartless world?
The lonely wind blowns on–
Nor waits to answer
While winter comes-
With withered leaves underled-

Come to me throgh the dusk-
cross the cornfield-
Oh Dreamer, whome I knew
In years gone by-
Before the little DEER
Came to the prairie-
To leap in glad disdain
Through prairie sky!

The mother deer leaped
From her bed of brambles-
Or Russian thistle weeds-
And warmthless clay-
To meet a steelclad bullet-
Science molded-
To cut through her soft skin
Her heart away!

Her last call, like a
Falling star unheeded-
By men; but sent to bring
The young Faun home-
Was answered by the Father Deer,
Who hurried, to lend
His pitiful aid-
TO DAVE HIS HOME!
OUT THERE ON THE HEARTLESS
PRAIRIE…….all alone.

Those quick steps were his last-

He fell beside her-

His antlers in the dust-

Nor do they care-

BUT LAUGH, to see

the little FAUN come running-

the sunshine lingers-

on here silver hair.

The SHOOT IT TOO-

So they can get their LIMIT-

A Prairie Chicken calls

From far away-

They slip a noose around

Their head and pull it-

AND HANG THEM IN A TREE

FOR THEIR LAST DAY!

It was a old fall day

In earlt morning-

Even the drifting clouds

Seemed half asleep;

The endless plains reached on,

NOR KNEW THE DAWNING-

WORDS ON THE SKY-

WHO TAKES CARE OF MY SHEEP?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Who takes care of my sheep?.

Now my room is dark and lonely
I start to cry for my one and only
I close my eyes to see your face
Then back to sleep with no embrace

My dreams are vivid and colorful too
The things they lack are me with you
And In the morning when I wake
That’s when my heart… begins to ache

An empty bed is where I am
Then the tears they fall again
I look at your pillow… without a wrinkle
No lovely face with eyes that twinkle

To see your face…and then embrace
Is something that will never be replaced
And now that our love has truly ended
I pray my heart…will soon be mended

Ken Coleman ©

http://kencolemanpoems.blogspot.com/

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

There is no song so dear to me-
Till lifes last tale is told-
and over her tomb, the silver moon
Turns all her beams, to gold!

Was there a valley of singing trees?
And a kingdom by the sea?
And was there a girl who ran along
By the name of “Annabel Lee”?
Do you think that the Angels cried
When Annabel Lee was gone?

And the moon never beamed
But the Poet dreamed
Of his beautiful Annabel Lee-
And his thoughts went back
To the haunted tomb
Down by the lonely sea……
“TO HER TOMB….BY THE SOUNDING SEA!

My youth is gone, for many a year,
But the moon and the stars still gleam!
And I can never read Annabel Lee
Without going back, in a dream.

An the little valley they left one day
Is the same as it used to be-
And Poe said he was happy there……
IN THAT KINGDOM…….BY……THE……SEA!

And the moon never beams,
Without bringing him drams-
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee………
Yes the moon never beams,
Without bringing him dreams
And the stars that were beight as her eyes……
And the springtime valley they left one day….
Still under the moonlight lies.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at More Annabel Lee.

Because the road was steep and long-
And through a dark and lonely land-
God set upon my lips a song-
And…….put a lantern in my hand!

For tho the road was dark and long,
And through a dry and prairie land-
God gave me this gift of song-
And rhymes were lanterns….in my hand!

So I always carry these little rhymes-
And…..send them away….to you from me…….
SO READ THEM KIND…and understand…..
THEY ARE GIFTS……all wapped in poetry!

She is with me yet-
Tho the summers are gone-
And she never can come back again-
She is still with me yet-
And we sing our old songs-
On the strings of the long slanting rain!

She seems to be here-
And we still sing our songs-
On the weaving bright strings of the rain!

They left her out there in her grave
North of town-
She could write no more letters to me-
But a blue feather came here
That night, drifting down,
And I know that her heart is set free!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at To Hannah…..first poem…….

Out of the GOLD of the fading west,
On strings of the slanting rain;
ANGEL….bring me another song,
On the slanting strings of the rain!

You can laugh about “WHOSE BOYS THERE ARE”
In the shade of the appletree…
I have woven them into an ANGEL SONG….
AND THE SONG BELONGS TO ME!

Out of the DUST of a prairie road,
Softly the melodies chime-
Wrote on the clouds of the evening sky!
Played as the wings of the wind go by-
THIS SONG IS NOT YOURS……IT’S MINE

The road was steep and dark and long,
And though a bleak and lonely land-
but God gave me the GIFT OF SONG,
And put a lantern in my hand!

And I am faithful to my rhymes,
And though the dusty days they sing;
And where the wild wind leads away-
So short, the fleeting hours of May.

They have left her out there in her grave
North of town….
She can write no more letters to me;
But a BLUE FEATHER came, through the night,
Drifting down……
And I know that her HEART is set free!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at This Song is Mine.