Poem Collection
Just storing old poems from the Pen - I finally remembered my username and password for it. I still think the Fairy and The Fox are probably my favorite.
The Fairy and The Fox
She peeked out from the blossom
Of the smallest of the mums
And whispered to the sleeping fox
“Get up silly, before they come!”
The fox paid no attention
To her tiny cries and shouts
He simply went on sleeping
As she trampled all the sprouts
Her efforts went unnoticed
And made her anger flare
Her tiny wings ablaze
As she floated in midair
The fox let out a snort
And swished his tail about
The fairy tumbled backwards
-A miniature wipeout!
“Here they come” she squeaked in alarm
as the leaves fell from the trees
just as she had predicted
a giant horde of bees!
“oh no” she cried in fear
“what on earth should I do?”
“I cannot leave him here!”
“Oo and those bees look angry too!”
The fox went on sleeping
He did not seem to care
The fairy stood her ground
Floating in midair
The bees passed over quietly
And continued on their way
She sighed in relief as the danger passed
No longer in dismay
The fox gave a snicker
From his comfy napping spot
“Did you see that?” she demanded
“That was an awful lot”
“I did” replied the fox
"but you have no need to fear
those bees would not have hurt you
they would have not come near”
“how do you know?” she asked
-waiting to be taught
"Cause those were honey bees!
And sweet, well, you are not."
The fairy grumbled loudly
and bonked him on the head
“good thing I like you fox
now get on back to bed.”
Another day gone by.
In our darkness moments of saddness
when the world feels hollow and empty
and our minds are numb from exhaustion
we give up hope on tomorrow.
The wind howls through the spaces
cut deep in our soul from the lies
and the world continues to live
unaware of what has passed.
My heart breaks from sadness
my mind reels with anger
my hands tremble with frustration
my soul slips away.
Unaware of consequences
the thoughts of biased freedom
I give up on this lifetime
I will fight no more.
the willow tree
it calls my name.
how can that be?
it has no voice, it cannot say.
it simply sways.
It simply sways?
You dare not say.
listen to it..
hear it?
feel it?
the willow tree
it calls my name.
you must agree
its plain as day.
i do not hear
i must confess
i really fear
i do digress
that tree you speak
is very meek
it does not say
it simply sways.
i give up
your blind to see
the voice this tree
has given me
this tree it speaks
it calls my name
and tells me things
to write and say
If you listen
maybe the tree
will share with you
its misery
or even its hope
and plans for today
then you will see
and then agree
it does much more
than simply sway
this willow tree
will call your name.
The sun breaks the night
the moon cries as it licks it's mortal wounds
decending into the light it disappears
as the sun overpowers its feeble aura.
The solar king reigns
until it too has tired from it's duties
decending to it's resting place
as the foolish moon takes the stage.
Reborn the moon dances
amid the cloudy subjects of the sky kingdom
the star children cheer on the jester
in it's light they twinkle with mischief.
But the sun breaks the night
after its long and peaceful slumber
and the children are reformed
as they fade from normal view.
And the solar king reigns
from a heavenly throne on high
until another day.
Another cycle in it's life.
lost in the surroundings, unsure whether to go or stay
a tiny injured animal, confused and needing wings
it reaches out for guidance, but has lost its voice to say
unsure of where to go, or what to think of things
it closes its eyes for a moment, a simple shuddered blink
it musters up its courage, it glances toward the light
it looks straight at its fears with little time to think
and all around is nothing, empty in its sight
the cold air brushes over it, the light no longer warm
the water pounds its body, the soft spray from the pond
and though the elements are uncomfortable, they do it little harm
except increase its fears, its ghostly rigid bonds
a light ahead is calling, it rushes toward the door
but what it feels is different, perplexed at what is seen
the door closes swiftly, it is desperate for much more
why does it have to endure these torturous mysteries?
bounded by its frustration, helpless in its pain
lowering its head so slowly, it gives into the fears
imaginary thunder peaks, amplifying its disgrace
but the tiny victim’s tragedy is silent, unnoticed by its peers
The Fairy and The Fox
She peeked out from the blossom
Of the smallest of the mums
And whispered to the sleeping fox
“Get up silly, before they come!”
The fox paid no attention
To her tiny cries and shouts
He simply went on sleeping
As she trampled all the sprouts
Her efforts went unnoticed
And made her anger flare
Her tiny wings ablaze
As she floated in midair
The fox let out a snort
And swished his tail about
The fairy tumbled backwards
-A miniature wipeout!
“Here they come” she squeaked in alarm
as the leaves fell from the trees
just as she had predicted
a giant horde of bees!
“oh no” she cried in fear
“what on earth should I do?”
“I cannot leave him here!”
“Oo and those bees look angry too!”
The fox went on sleeping
He did not seem to care
The fairy stood her ground
Floating in midair
The bees passed over quietly
And continued on their way
She sighed in relief as the danger passed
No longer in dismay
The fox gave a snicker
From his comfy napping spot
“Did you see that?” she demanded
“That was an awful lot”
“I did” replied the fox
"but you have no need to fear
those bees would not have hurt you
they would have not come near”
“how do you know?” she asked
-waiting to be taught
"Cause those were honey bees!
And sweet, well, you are not."
The fairy grumbled loudly
and bonked him on the head
“good thing I like you fox
now get on back to bed.”
Another day gone by.
In our darkness moments of saddness
when the world feels hollow and empty
and our minds are numb from exhaustion
we give up hope on tomorrow.
The wind howls through the spaces
cut deep in our soul from the lies
and the world continues to live
unaware of what has passed.
My heart breaks from sadness
my mind reels with anger
my hands tremble with frustration
my soul slips away.
Unaware of consequences
the thoughts of biased freedom
I give up on this lifetime
I will fight no more.
the willow tree
it calls my name.
how can that be?
it has no voice, it cannot say.
it simply sways.
It simply sways?
You dare not say.
listen to it..
hear it?
feel it?
the willow tree
it calls my name.
you must agree
its plain as day.
i do not hear
i must confess
i really fear
i do digress
that tree you speak
is very meek
it does not say
it simply sways.
i give up
your blind to see
the voice this tree
has given me
this tree it speaks
it calls my name
and tells me things
to write and say
If you listen
maybe the tree
will share with you
its misery
or even its hope
and plans for today
then you will see
and then agree
it does much more
than simply sway
this willow tree
will call your name.
The sun breaks the night
the moon cries as it licks it's mortal wounds
decending into the light it disappears
as the sun overpowers its feeble aura.
The solar king reigns
until it too has tired from it's duties
decending to it's resting place
as the foolish moon takes the stage.
Reborn the moon dances
amid the cloudy subjects of the sky kingdom
the star children cheer on the jester
in it's light they twinkle with mischief.
But the sun breaks the night
after its long and peaceful slumber
and the children are reformed
as they fade from normal view.
And the solar king reigns
from a heavenly throne on high
until another day.
Another cycle in it's life.
lost in the surroundings, unsure whether to go or stay
a tiny injured animal, confused and needing wings
it reaches out for guidance, but has lost its voice to say
unsure of where to go, or what to think of things
it closes its eyes for a moment, a simple shuddered blink
it musters up its courage, it glances toward the light
it looks straight at its fears with little time to think
and all around is nothing, empty in its sight
the cold air brushes over it, the light no longer warm
the water pounds its body, the soft spray from the pond
and though the elements are uncomfortable, they do it little harm
except increase its fears, its ghostly rigid bonds
a light ahead is calling, it rushes toward the door
but what it feels is different, perplexed at what is seen
the door closes swiftly, it is desperate for much more
why does it have to endure these torturous mysteries?
bounded by its frustration, helpless in its pain
lowering its head so slowly, it gives into the fears
imaginary thunder peaks, amplifying its disgrace
but the tiny victim’s tragedy is silent, unnoticed by its peers