Saturday, August 8, 2015

A Trio of Poems.

Today's edition of my Saturday Night Stories series will be a slight deviation from the norm. Tonight, I'll share a trio of poems that I wrote between ten and twenty years ago. They have never before been published.



Love and the Sea Turtle

A dozen young turtles swam out to sea
Looking for calmer shores
Eleven came back, sad as could be
One turtle found love that was yours

The lonely young turtle swam all alone
Pushing onward at the fall of night
Heaven lie ahead on a whispered tone
Moonbeams on the ocean glowed bright

Through blankets of fog and blasts of rain
Our small hero gave it his best
The love of a maiden shielded the pain
This proved to be his true final test

Miles lay behind the weary voyager
He'd proved his worth as a knight
Warmth from a goddess' power
Her love made the journey alright

-------------------------


The Lost Nightingale

Born of winter's premiere frost
Out to touch the darkest of night
It holds me -
Like the warmth of my mother
Like the stern hand of my father
It grips me -
With ever-open arms
That wrap around me - Inside and Out
This feeling flows through my heart
As the sweet nectar of life itself
Never has this stunned me
Never has this enveloped me so...
It changes midnight to sunrise
Death to Life...
It is your presence that draws me in
And never lets go
But tugs at the strings of my heart
As a puppet
Dances for his master
But I will not dance!
I will sing the song of life
And return my song
To the lost Nightingale
That chirps in the forest of compassion

-------------------------


Monsters

Monsters are real...
Oh don't you know
Lurking and stalking in basements below
Watching and wondering with eyes lit 'round
Waiting to prance at the slightest loud sound
Without a thought or moment to lose
They jump on little girls
With the toughest of ruse
Using their wit and brainy might
They lure their prey deep into the night
And forever shall be
And long after more
The monsters shall prey on victims galore
So watch your back
And keep your guard high
And leave your ears open
Lest you miss their ghastly cry

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