Hi Marilyn,
Okay, you tempted me. Am I a poet? Not as great as Shirley, or many of our friends at AdlandPro, however I do believe I have a couple that I have not listed as yet. Therefore, here goes;
Love on Gentle Breezes Blow
A Rose-so beautiful, so Bold-always tender, never cold
Silent beauty to behold, countless stories to be told
A Rose is given to the ones you love-Darling, Sweetheart, Turtle Dove
A Creation like a Pure White Dove-Given us by GOD Above.
Perfect, in every way- a Rose within my mind will stay
Petals in a Gentle Breeze will Sway, it's Fragrance fills the air each day
You'll see them Blossom in the Month of May, climbing a trellice
or along the Bay
Beauty to behold wherever they lay, if they could talk what would they say?
Roses bloom on vines or cling to a trellis along a straight line
Most any place is fine- you grow yours, I'll grow mine
A Rose is like a Vintage Wine, which often do combine
A Compliment when you Dine, play soft music if you do not mind.
Remember the next time that you see a Rose, that somehow as it grows
The Fragrance seems to tickle your nose and sends a tingle to your toes
You're all wrapped up in Ribbons and Bows- you know not why but the Flower knows
Forget all your troubles and your woes- as Love on Gentle Breezes Blow.
Written by;
Michael James Caron
Flowers of Doom
Flowers won't bloom in a small dark room
A child is crying in his crib by the door
No one will see petals fall off these flowers of Doom
Lonely cries from a baby unheard- the Parents ignore.
Society is changing-high morals have fallen
Behind closed doors Horrors prevail every day
More drugs than before coursing through veins like venemous pollen
When it's finally to late, a child's parent will pay.
Flowers planted without Sunlike will wither and die
Children of parents on drugs will perish one day
No one will wipe sad teardrops from their eyes
Parents on Drugs have Hearts molded in Clay.
When will this pain end? The sorrow and Grief
Why can't we stop these Pushes of Dope?
Young children getting high-their lives are so Brief
What is in a Future, for Those without Hope?
written by;
Michael James Caron
Lost Souls
On a Sticky, warm and Sultry Summers Eve
When the air is thick which makes it hard to breathe
I often find myself strolling along a Wooded, silent path
Leading to a Swampy Marsh with an overhanging feel of Wrath
I know not why I take this path- it gives me quite a fright
The distant sounds of frogs and crickets become a part of night
I hear the Whisper of the Wind, moaning through the dead and Mangled Trees
Swamp Gas in an eery veil of Fog rises slowly in the breeze.
Tranclike I wander in an Alien Nether World
Where trees have snarled and twisted roots, some mangled-others curled
Crescent is the Moon above, so distant hinged upon the darkened sky
Silhouettes of Nocturnal Creatures Shadows winging by
The eerie sound of Moaning Wind, combined with Swampy Gas
The mind can conjure Poor Lost Souls seeking Portholes through which to pass
As they they know that they have died, but cannot find their way
Perhaps in life they went astray and now in Limbo they must Stay.
Written by;
Michael James Caron
Well, I guess I bored you enough so now it's someone elses turn. Thank you, Marilyn for the opportunity. And now you all know the reason for the TrashCan.
God Bless You
Mike
http://www.organizedenterprise.com/Musicmike64
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