In Search Of Me

IN SEARCH OF ME

Where shall we find it
This place of solitude
One that is ours alone?

Shall it be in distant shores
Sea of cerulean blue
Tinged with sunlight
Dancing on the waves
Kissed by golden sands
Swept with the Master's hands

Shall we claim it
Upon the highest pinnacle
Backpack upon us
Staff in hand
Foot secure, trudging
At last
Where our dream began?

Perhaps near a stream
Running cool and clear
Rocks polished smooth
No obstacle to fear

Yet, it may be closer
So much closer than we know
Within our heart;
Reaching deep within our soul
Always there
Our solitude
We may always make it our own

No matter where we go
Wherever we may roam
Our spirit, within us
Always has a home.

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Piano Player

PIANO PLAYER

Those hateful keys,
All so musically perfect.

Wretched music;
Pages thrown up everywhere.

The polished wood
Gleams and shines, daring you to try.

You have no choice,
You must do as your teacher says.

You settle down,
Sitting on the freezing, hard seat.

Non-budging hands
Makes your head start spinning within.

Then it makes sense,
Why and how you are sitting here.

Your hands fly off,
Tickling the ivory keys.

Wondrous music
Steadily flows towards your ears.

Suddenly stuck
In its musical fantasy

Jessica Pui hung Lee

Spring Greeting

SPRING GREETING

Beneath the sodden leaves
Under frozen earth
She has waited;
Waited patiently
Asleep;
Dreaming of hyacinth days
Meadows waving in dances green
Fragrances awakening the senses
Ah yes, has she dreamed
Lilacs bursting
With charismatic charm
Waiting for the sunlight warm
Now, now she awakened
Yawning with breath so fair
The beauty the rebirth
Of Spring is in the air!

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Little Ones

Little Ones

A distant howl is herd across the tundra,

The sound shaking the ground like wild thunder,

Wolves join in a chorus of joy,

For pups have arrived, great howls they deploy,

As the little ones come out to greet their first day,

Emerging to meet the pack, always wanting to play,

New scents, sounds, faces, and skills they must know,

For soon the alpha pair howl a warning, "Soon it will snow!"

Young wolf pups must grow husky and strong,

As the winters here, are cold and long,

The little wolf pups smile and giggle,

Small bones they chew on and nibble,

Not a worry in their hearts,

Not a worry in their souls, their lives just beginning to start,

Yet with the leaders these young ones have, wise and much alive,

Food will be plentiful, guaranteed, they will all survive.

By ©Brooke M. a.k.a. Spirit Wolf

Irish Blessing

Irish Blessing

Lucky stars above you,
Sunshine on your way,
Many friends to love you,
Joy in work and play-
Laughter to outweigh each care,
In your heart a song-
And gladness waiting everywhere
All your whole life long!

Mustang Sally

Mustang Sally

Mustang Sally, guess you better slow your mustang down.
Mustang Sally, now baby, guess you better slow your mustang down.
You been running all over town.
Oh! I guess you gotta put your flat feet on the ground.

All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
One of these early mornings, I’m gonna be wiping those weeping eyes.

I bought you a brand new mustang 'bout nineteen sixty five
Now you come around signifying a woman, you won’t, you won’t let me ride.
Mustang Sally, now baby, guess you better slow your mustang down.
You been running all over town.
Oh! I guess you gotta put your flat feet on the ground.

All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
All you want to do is ride around Sally, ride, Sally, ride.
One of these early mornings, oh, I’m gonna be wiping those weeping eyes.

Wilson Pickett
(this version done by Joe Cocker)
 

The Old Misty Tree

The Old Misty Tree

The Old Misty Tree

The old misty tree stands all on her own
Watching and waiting, forever alone

Once she was young, just a century since
When children with joy, did laughter dispense

When lovers did meet with wine and embrace
Lay under her bows, shed shyness and lace

Yet now she has aged, grown hard and too cold
Seen far too much, with nothing to hold

Her limbs creek and rattle, her leaves flutter dry
Her trunk wide and gnarled, her heart full of sighs

Owls sit high upon her, in deepest of night
Birds nest in her crooks, red feathers a bright

Within her dank holes, squirrels snuggle sweet babes
Wild nature abounds in the cool of her shade

The years she has seen, the ages gone by
The sorrows she knows, the reasons she cries

She’s been there for many and seen them all die
She’s questioned and wondered and asked her God why

Why a tree must grow old, and stand through the years
When all else that sprouts must soon disappear

If only she could, she’d pass from this earth
Rest and then sleep while others are birthed

Yet stand she still must, till her time of release
When she too can find silence, darkness and peace

So know you know why, when you pass her by
Why her brown leaves weep misty, when the skies, they are dry

Tim Wilkinson & Wayne Wilks

The Shell

 

The Shell

One last walk along the beach before I say goodbye
The time here was a dream come true
A joy for mind and eye,

The waves, the air, the glorious sky
Renewal of my soul
At times I just would cry,

And as I strolled a shell unusual amongst the rest had caught my eye
So perfect in shape and color
Iridescent glints reflected in rainbow hues
Lavender, violet, golden yellow, orange and brilliant blue,
And as I turned it over catching the reflection of the sun,
It seemed to capture all the beauty and peace I had experienced,

The blazing sun, the immense white clouds, the countless stars,
The waves
All encased in this lovely shell within my hand
That the sand and water had made,
A memory held now forever captured in this shell,

The waves will forever be changing
The sky and clouds as well
But the colors and memories will forever remain
In this perfect shell.

Nancy Crossland

Snow Queen

Snow Queen

The Snow Queen’s dressed in a gown of white
A tiara of icicles, glistening bright
Shoes of crystal, wand of light
On this sparkling winter’s night.

Kimberly Dunn

Full Punxsutawney Moon

Full Punxsutawney Moon

Three days later, early, certainly
well before sunrise, after the graspers

and flashers have packed up and gone,
after the national news has had its say,

under a staring, starry, cut-glass sky
and a moon shivering its way toward

moonset, the groundhog steps warily out,
its snout in snow a foot or more deep.

Relieved, at last, of the press of local
press and the tyranny of network tourists

he lounges in the full moon’s light,
each icy whisker distinct, resplendent,

its shadow a mere matter of fact
on otherwise unbroken snow.

Ron. Lavalette

She No Longer Remembered

(I long to go back to the deep woods. The solitude, with only the company of the wildlife, beckons me.

Thank you, Doug, for this great write! )

She No Longer Remembered

She went to live among the trees
On the banks of a river wide
The wind was her music
The forest was her guide
She no longer remembered
Why she had cried

Douglas Evans

The Buck in the Snow

The Buck in the Snow

White sky, over the hemlocks bowed with snow,
Saw you not at the beginning of evening the antlered buck and his doe
Standing in the apple-orchard? I saw them. I saw them suddenly go,
Tails up, with long leaps lovely and slow,
Over the stone-wall into the wood of hemlocks bowed with snow.

Now he lies here, his wild blood scalding the snow.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers
The buck in the snow.
How strange a thing--a mile away by now, it may be,
Under the heavy hemlocks that as the moments pass
Shift their loads a little, letting fall a feather of snow--
Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Fab 50's

Rock Around The Clock

One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock,
Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock,
Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock,
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight.

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon,
We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one,
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight.
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight.

When the clock strikes two, three and four,
If the band slows down we'll yell for more,
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight.
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight.

When the chimes ring five, six and seven,
We'll be right in seventh heaven.
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight.
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight.

When it's eight, nine, ten, eleven too,
I'll be goin' strong and so will you.
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight.
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight.

When the clock strikes twelve, we'll cool off then,
Start a rockin' round the clock again.
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight,
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight.
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight.

Bill Haley and His Comets

Man On The Street

Man on the Street

They looked away
He wasn't like they were,
They walked straight, were clear of skin
and neat,

They turned and whispered
Shook their heads,
He shouldn't be out among us
He should be off the street,

He shuffled along bent and twisted
With blotchy skin and tattered clothes,

He thought to himself
I shouldn't be out on the street,
The way I am;
But no one knows,

There was a time I stood straight as an oak,
Shaved smooth and clean,
The finest clothes and shoes I'd wear,
Before the times were lean,

Then all my treasures turned to dust,
My loved ones walked away,
Success and reputation gone
Hard times and illness filled my days,

I was like them who shun me,
Offended by the sight
What I've become,
A victim of my plight,

If only I could warn them,
If they'd listen to what I say,
But I know better
They'll have to find out their own way

Nancy Ellen Crossland

The Soothing Sea

The Soothing Sea

Let the soothing sea heal my heart
From a lost love that tore it apart
Let the setting sun heal my soul
From a long fall to a rocky shoal
Let the sailing star heal my mind
From a lie that had made me blind

Blue Pueblo

Happy New Year 2011!

My New Year's Resolution

I will not throw the cat out the window
Or put a frog in my sister's bed
I will not tie my brother's shoelaces together
Nor jump from the roof of Dad's shed
I shall remember my aunt's next birthday
And tidy my room once a week
I'll not moan at Mum's cooking (Ugh! fish fingers again!)
Nor give her any more of my cheek.
I will not pick my nose if I can help it
I shall fold up my clothes, comb my hair,
I will say please and thank you (even when I don't mean it)
And never spit or shout or even swear.
I shall write each day in my diary
Try my hardest to be helpful at school
I shall help old ladies cross roads (even if they don't want to)
And when others are rude I'll stay cool.
I'll go to bed with the owls and be up with the larks
And close every door behind me
I shall squeeze from the bottom of every toothpaste tube
And stay where trouble can't find me.
I shall start again, turn over a new leaf,
leave my bad old ways forever
shall I start them this year, or next year
shall I sometime, or .....?

Robert Fisher

Merry Christmas 2010!

 

Jingle Bell Rock

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air

What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh

Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell rock

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air

What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh

Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell rock

Video Here 

Fuego's Freedom

Fuego’s Freedom

If you could’ve sworn you’d seen a horse
Charging out of a flame
Or forming out of an autumn leaf
Maybe you’ve seen Fuego’s spirit
For he is a whinny into the moon at night
And a fiery, restless creature
Starved of freedom
His mortal self
Couldn’t live off fenced pasture
He is now a wild thing
Every October he scours the scape
For a place as remote and wild as his spirit
Fuego may pay you a visit
During his journey
For a loco sort of liberty
Will Fuego, a whinny into the moon at night
A restless spirit, an autumn leaf, a stray flame…
Find his long lost freedom…
In you?

by HorsesForever, age 10

Mirror Mirror

Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can't you show me tall and slim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Must I look so bloody grim?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
You're distorting my poor waist!
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And why the heck am I defaced?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Why have I a double chin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And what's the stupid, goofy grin?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Pointless asking ‘Who’s the fairest-?
More bloody likely, 'Who’s the queerest? ’
Now look, I paid a big bucks for thee,
So why can’t you be nice to me?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Me, you say? Ah, that's better -
Mirror, mirror, bloody fibber!

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

A Poet's Cat

A Poet’s Cat

A poet's cat sedate and grave
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks, to which she might retire,
And where, secure as mouse in chink,
She might repose, or sit and think.
I know not where she caught the trick -
Nature perhaps had cast her
In such a mould philosophique
Or else she learn'd it of her master.

William Cowper