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Poems - Page 3
A Mountainous Decision
Walking down a lonely path Through a boulder strewn field. A thick, gray cloud Encompassing all that is in view.
A dull journey. Void of sweet smelling pines. Void of vibrant flowers. Empty of the knock of a woodpecker Or the call of a hawk Or the whistle of the marmot.
As I round a bend The path is joined by another And so am I. She is there.
With her, She brings the flowers And the pines for my senses. The sounds of Life accompany her as well. The woodpecker, the hawk, and the marmot Announcing their arrival. I watch the hawk soar into the sky, The sounds of Life filling my body, And I soar with the hawk.
A sudden split in the path Returns me from those lofty heights And a fog engulfs me as I ponder the two. Which should I take?
I listen down each path For the whistle of the marmot Or the knock of the woodpecker Or for the call of the hawk, High above the fog. I listen intently for a beacon But all I hear is silence.
A fear engulfs me through the fog, That I must be right or I'll loose her And all the Life she brings with her. I must make the correct choice. I look to her for help, To show me the right path. I stare desperately for a sign. A simple step in one direction, A brief glance down through the fog. And if she does not give a sign, Then what shall I do? Do I gamble with my instincts?
(Instincts that may be clouded with the storm of emotion) Or do I dare be so bold as to ask?
-J.E. |
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That Fatal Day
Where were you on that fatal day, When I was blue and the skies were gray? I waited for your smile to come For I was sure you were the one.
Where were you on that fatal day? Didn't you know my love was here to stay? I felt for you, what I'ld never felt before. I don't know why but I wanted more.
Where were you on that fatal day? When I didn't want to go away At your side I wanted to stay It wasn't I who went astray.
Where were you on that fatal day? Leaving me standing in such a way. I turned and felt the ocean spray, I never thought you would go away.
-J.E. |
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Dying in Style
As the sun sinks southward, With the birds in pursuit, Those that had huddled together for months In their ordinary green garments Realize that the time has come to prepare. The green is shed for more festive colors For these final moments.
Brilliant gowns made of vibrant colors. Reds, oranges, and yellows of all hues Shine brightly as they pay their final dues. Then each finds itself weakening. They fall, slowly, Fluttering to their resting place. There they lie until the Mother comes to bury her dead. Soon they are swept by the wind of the Mother's emotions To what will be their final resting place. As they lie, now dressed in a dull brown
The Mother comes to bury those that had -J.E. |
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A Chance Meeting After Life
Why is it we are alone? Why is it there is no one of our own? Do we deserve this fate of Lying alone in an unearthly state.
Why aren't there flowers up there? Covering the ground so bare. A vistor is so rare Is it because no one cares?
Where were you when my lonely heart Cried for someone to be a part? When I was looking for a friend But instead I found my end.
We would have had a future, Someone to be with, with time to spend. Together till the last hour When one of us had met our end.
Then someone would be there Standing on the ground so bare.
Someone putting flowers there, Standing... Crying... Showing how much they care.
-J.E. |
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The Killer
There are diseases we know Which we create on our own. One through drugs, like white snow. Alcoholism is another That we have known. But the worst disease, we all Ignore. No one knows who Has it, no one understands The hidden signs. No one hears the muffled cries. People kill to stop the pain and Other people wonder why.
The scientist doesn't understand And another thousand will die by its hand. It has a cure, this disease But it is difficult to see. What is this killer of so many?
Loneliness. -J.E. |
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Floorburns
The ball came loose And I dove. The searing noise of the Floor and skin disagreeing Was drowned out by the referee's shrill whistle.
"Hold 42 red. One and One."
Bent over, Surveying the burnt skin of my left knee, I tried to relax. Not wanting to wait at the line, Alone, I waited until they were ready, then stepped to the line.
"Play the miss, gentleman."
Wiping the sweat of my palms On the back of my shorts, I took the ball, checked my feet, and emptied my lungs. I bounced the ball three times, As I'ld done many times before, And shot.
"One gentleman."
I felt good. I felt relaxed I repeated the routine. Palms, ball, feet, dribble. My arm extended up And out as it flipped the ball towards the hoop. Then I turned and headed downcourt.
-J.E. |
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Copyright 1999-2000, James Eveleth. All rights reserved.
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