Fantasize

Let your thoughts go wild

Bring back your memories,

Your thoughts as a child.

Ride the range on a bucking bronc’

Drive a race car at Daytona Park.

Climb snow covered mount Kilimanjaro.

Fly high aloft in a gas filled balloon

Going higher and higher almost touching the moon.

Sail the seas in a four mast schooner

Circling the earth, catching large tuna.

Ride a motorcycle, jump over high dunes

Hearing the motor moaning zoom zoom.

These are the pleasures of youth

Before growing older

And

Discovering the truth.

Tom Fenning Friday,

July 17, 2009

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

Its all so different now, maybe my song can bring it back, for some of the farmers, of years ago.

Old Springtime

Oh the happy, happy Farmer-
He is getting ready now-
To harness up the horses -
and attach them, to the plow!

The wild geese, flying over-
Flying far- and flying free-
And the Prairie Farmer’s Dreaming -
There his greatest pleasures be!
He can hear the wild heese calling,
Flying free, and flying far-
And the tired farmers dreaming-
There his only pleasures are.

Theres a hill, away out yonder-
theres a field, that once was mine!
In the years, beyond tomorrow-
Take me back, to supper-time!

With the horses, standing chewing,
In the od grey barn, out there-
And the wind, just softly blowing,
O’er a land, of little care!

Take be back, to those old spring days-
When he Farmer, followed a plow,
And the world was way out yonder-
Past the hills- Forgotten now,

And the days, were long and quiet=
Even birds, had time to sing-
There were buffalo-trails to follow,
To get water, from the spring.

WE could hear, the wild geese calling-
From the clouds, that drift, and blow-
Drift and blow, across the summer,
And the spring-time, LONG AGO.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Dakota Farmer.

The wild geese flying over-
Flying far- and flying free-
Oh, the Prairie Farmers dreaming-
There his greatest pleasures be!

He can hear the wild geese calling
Flying free, and flying far-
And the tired Farmer’s dreaming-
There his only pleasures are!

Theres a hill, away out yonder-
Theres a field- that once was mine-
In the years beyond tomorrow,
Take me back, to supper-time!

With the horses standing chewing-
In the old grey barn, out there-
And the wind, just softly blowing-
O’er a Land of little care!

Take me back, to those old spring days,
When the Farmer, followed plow-
And the world was way out yonder-
Past the hills, we saw put west-
And the days were long, and quiet-
Even birds had time to sing-
When I heard, the wild geese calling-
From the clouds, that frift and blow-
Drift and blow, across te summer-
And- the – spring – time — long ago.

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

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at I have it none.

This night, these melodies, these festivities,
My angel!, will vanish into thin air..
The dreams we fondle today, will yield to harsh realities.
The mirth we hold on our lips, will fade to whimpers.

It is perfect while it lasts, ecstatic, sweet, and passionate.
Every moment a celebration!
Every night an odyssey, through the shores of
Lascivious pleasures and passions.
Every morning, filled with remembrances
Of plays, enacted in our bedchamber;
Of romantic ardours, sending shock waves
All through the senses, springing sensations;
Soul stirring, bewitching…

Here, in this night, when waves of every vital tissues
Are seeking its mate, for its unison,
This lake immersed in modesty, writes it stories
In poems, in the moonlight, with its toe nails.
Do we have any more secrets between us,
Left out to be narrated, of our amatory tales?

In here the fascinating flowers are blooming,
To weave a veil of moonlight to cover the nakedness
Of the virgin earth, in embrace with the nature,
Do we have any more emotions left out in us
To exchange, at this hour, before I leave you?

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