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.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Open Road.

A hundred FARMERS came to town-
With pockets full of daugh-
But….ther was Lewis…..when they turned aroun-
An…….they had to let em go!

Ya……there was “Lewis” when they looked aroun-
BLACK SUIT AN BOOTS TO MATCH-
An they wished that they had stayed at home-
By their own little garden patch!

TWENTY THREE HEIFERS…the truck pulled up…
They LOADED em…to the last bone….
The LEWIS climbed in with his Stetson Hat-
And…..drove through the snow…..ALONE!…..

O it could be there are better days-
And SKIES MORE RAINBOW FAIR!
But….you’ll never know that a thrill it was-
‘CAUSE THE “DOUBLE E” WAS THERE!

Yaaaa…… the snow came down an started to blow-
It was bad as a blizzard could be-
But THE SALE WAS ON, and he HAD to go,
HE WAS “LEWIS” ….of the “Double E”.

How much do you think these CATTLE cost?
A FULL EIGHT THOUSAND DOWN!…………
But worth it all…. can you HEAR EM BAWL?

As they HAULED EM OUT OF TOWN!

They had BOT THE CATTLE and YEESESKRIST
They had to get em home-
I think that LEWIS got his ears froxe off-
Five hundred miles from HOME!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at LEWIS OF THE DOUBLE E!.

The world will little care, when we are gone,
The winds, the fields, the skies, will be the same-
And youth will laugh again, with gleaming eyes,
AND……LOVE WILL SEE THE RAINBOW…AND THE RAIN.

There is no land on earth, where we may go-
The meadowlarks are calling, through the gloom,
A little spot of earth, beneath the snow,
IS OURS TO KEEP FOREVER….AND ALONE.

So lets forget our dreams, of long ago-
No paths are there to follow, down the lane,
The voices of the lads who sang with me-
Can not come back….to sing with me again,

The horseshoes that we threw have long been gone-
Like all the lonely fields, of waving corn.
OH HEART OF MINE….WHY DO WE WORRY SO?
When……life is ours….and we are on the go?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Lets Make Believe.

Some one is trying to play, the mandolin of the mind;

When the deft fingers touch the strings of the heart,

A tone suppressed in tears, emanate from its haggard look.

And the staggering mind is retreating…Forsaken dusk!

Even the waxy moonlight appears to you as the burning summer.

And, spectacular vistas of spring, as sad rainy days.

The woeful heart, in an impeded wobble, tick feebly.

You became a singing bird, with wounded wings,

Flying queasy, through the gloom.

The bangles of the wind ceased to tinkle, and

Spring diverted its path, evading to brush

Mascara on her delightful eyelashes.

Unattained aspirations, wept in the chariot of rainbows.

Through millions of rebirths, we have been seeking

Frantically, for each other, and still our desires are unquenched.

Are you now a peddler, selling dreams and tears to me?

.

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

A- bomb absent to God
present star’s floating light.
Back-cross wears nothing
naked to silence.
Cemeteries count the dead.
Ready for civilization.
Clamshells for bullets.
Masks made from cedar dome.

Draft- horse mermaids polishing
shoes, silver in their eyes.
Velcro imagination.
Exposed butterflies.
Rainbows echo.
Countless earth bares
free life.

Frantic life.
Bloom referring to
beauty.
Judging colors.
Reformation from birth.
Recollect intermission.

Follow inner dreams.
Ravish shade.
Straddle the night’s stone.
Blind motionless sun.
Glazier angels glued.
Glossily disfigured shadows.

Red-leaf spring.
Eye-scope evacuation.
The ingredient is love.
Irritable summer.
Chaplain sweater.
Dialect rain.
Warmed- over heart.
Wearisome tear.
A starry-eyed valentine
spurred stardom’s knife.
Wounds of rape.
Molest the mirror.
Inner miserable defeat.
Modernism to ink.
The best lies are words.
My love I will drink you,
I will thirst you to die for . . .

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Silver Horse the Ride of Love.

When it grows old

Somewhere over the rainbow it waits

It flies with the sun

Through the burgundy moments

Of a day

And into the night

In the perils of silence

Where does it go?

When your soul changes

Have you forgotten

Can it fly like a flutterfly

With the colors of life

Swimming through its skin

Where does it go?

When its let you go

But you hold on

Like a roller coaster ride

Like your daddy’s hand

You try to find

Your momma’s presence

And all you see is

Your life’s essence

You’re holding on like the child inside you

Where does it go?

When you believe

Can it work this way

But the words you read are frail

Fragile and you’ll break

Look away and don’t dare

Fall with the rain

And when you see the pain

Take the map of its veins

Follow through to the daylight

So where does it go?

When its never really gone

—- Skyler

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Where does it go?.

“Look a bit closer and what can you tell?”
“Lock me up quick ’cause I think I’m in Hell.” 
“There is a story or there is a song,”
“Call me a liar, I think you are wrong.”

Showing me ink-blots will drive me insane,
Doctors want answers when playing their game,
Thinking they know what goes on in my head,
I’ll never tell them; they won’t find a shred.

I am a secret that no one will know,
Hiding my feelings, not letting them show,
Making up stories to lead them astray,
Make them believe all the things that I say.

“I’ll say ‘desire’, now what will you say?”
“I’ll say I’m tired and don’t want to play.” 
“Something is really quite wrong in your head,”
“Why don’t you find a sane person instead.”

Call him a ‘Shrink’, but I’ll call him a liar,
Taking my money so he can retire,
I’m just as ‘normal’ as everyone here,
I’m not as crazy as what I appear.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Alone With The Shrink.

…

Does anything in this earth, ever perish?
And disappear into nothingness and void?
A leaf, a life, a flower, a song, a rainbow!

A tree, a leaf, or a flower, when it withers
The good earth receives it with pleasure.
It dissolves with the mud, in its source.
The roots take away the substances,
And bring them back to life.
The remnants of a human being disintegrate and
Unite with the five elements which composed it.

The whole earth is a grand grave yard,
For withered, battered, and dead lives;
Buried and hidden in its cavernous womb;
Over millenniums, ever procreating
From the debris of accumulated fragments,
In another shape; tubers, cereals, fruits, crops,
And food for whatever we eat as flesh,
To complete the cycle of life, in the universe.
Even the scattered ash over water
Comes back as salt from the sea in our food.

Nothing can be severed from anything eternally.
That proclivity exists in everything, animate or
Inanimate, similar to proton-neutron relation.
That is human bondage, nature’s bondage

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

Your memory still haunts, and smiles in my mind,
As a garland, of rainbow on the neck of
Sodden clouds, impatient to shed its attire.

You the me, and me the you
We were born in places far apart.
Like the driftwood close in, on the shores,
We floated in the ocean, of populace.
And one day drifted close, as strangers…

Autumn:
Formal nodding, perfunctory greetings,
Shallow smiles, casual accosting;
Sharing a joke, mutual treats
Like a thirsty fish, in the ocean…

Season changes;
Summer.
A little walk, a little talk,
A magnificent obsession.
A willing miss, a stolen kiss.
Exchange of gifts, words of appreciation;
A phone call, just before going to sleep.
Bid good night and sweet dreams…

Spring. With all its blessings.

Close encounters of the third kind.
We understood, we are made for each other.
We dream together, we imagine alike.
Our desires are similar, like our aspirations.
We resolve to become one.
We dissolve and become one.
Our target attained;here,
Our search for each other ended.

What is this miracle, of destiny?
Souls wandering through eternity;
Seeking always, for its lost mate.
Once found they unite in life
In passion, and love and bliss.
And boundless immortality…

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