Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Home Poem


An empty forest field

Fresh with fragrant flowers and tall grass.

A great bird lands like a shield,

Surveying the great yield.



An empty forest field

Echoing with the work of iron clad animals,

Erecting four walls with windows that enthralls,

The frame set, foundation poured.



An empty forest field

A fresh house with open door.

Ten armored knights with the heart of a bent star-

Stepped over the threshold.





A house in an empty field

Flowing with mirth, humming with talk of what was.

Architects, crafting buildings of future thoughts.

Walls marked with the scent of sharpened practice.



A house in an empty field

With the smell of broken bread and spilt water.

The inhabitance quiet in the arms of sleep.

Windowed walls broken by a careless blow.

Spears of rain shielded by the resilient roof.



Pound, Pound, Pound!

The feet on the ground-

Echoing with sound-

Run, Run, Run to the sun,

The great bird ever did run



An empty house in an empty field

Screaming silence deafened its chorus of colors.

Vines like snakes curled around the restless timbers.

Rain like swords sliced the silence,

hit the exiled floor with menace.



An empty house in an empty field

Bested by nature’s revenge,

Trampled by soft clad animals,

Yet it waited, helplessly hopefully watching.

Laughing clouds, mocking its perseverance.