Open Poetry #7 |
Three of my "earlies" (jwesley) |
jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
I wasn't into love and heartache back then...it was hunting and fishing and swamps and things, oh, and introspection got quite heavy, though not in these (early from '59, '60's)...women were something for later. ...no idea what prompted this Paradise? Slowly, softly, drifting, silent, falls the snow from heaven above. Slowly, softly, drifting, silent, over the body of a frozen dove. Cold, wet, crystals of ice, floating to earth all through the night, covering the tunnels of scurrying mice, converting the land to glistening white. Cold wind, blowing softly, running water, floating ice, waving branches, browsing deer, icicles hanging, paradise? Frozen dew drops like Christmas Bells, waving in the wind, and then, snow covered three boughs, leaden skies, angels singing, it's Christmas again. It's the long, the dark, the night I dread, the hideous cries of creatures in pain, the howling wolves, their sinister forms, tell me I'm running, running in vain. A mournful howl, cry of the pack, "come my mates, the hunt is on, games all gone but why relent, 'till this two-legged creature, man, is gone?" Lurking, peering, behind every tree, I check my rifle, three bullets I see. That I'll get three, before they get me, I'm praying now, Lord, to thee. Cold wind, blowing softly, running water, floating ice, waving branches, browsing deer, icicles hanging…paradise? W. James Beard, Jr. ....and of course back then there was the ever present diary (girls called it "diary", guys called it their "log"), but this was my first page...don't know where the "log" has gone...hope it's forever gone though Dear Diary This is the first of my little task, this is the first, but far from the last. My hopes and my dreams I'll share with delight, my prayers and my schemes, will start here tonight. One person will see these thoughts that you keep for he is my shepherd and I am his sheep. I'll always be true I never shall lie, remember me diary, 'till the day that I die. W. James Beard, Jr. ....and TB was prominent back then, still....knew one or two that had it An Angel Sings The cell I'm in is damp and cold, The place I sleep is torn and old, This cough I have can be one thing, Soon now, I'll hear angels sing. My dreams and reality will never combine, The place for them is out of my mind, My thoughts burst like a clap of thunder, About my future I can but wonder. The sun out there is bright and shining, While here I sit alone and pining, The breeze outside is sweet and soft While here I lie like hay in a loft. This cough I have is getting worse, My chest feels like it's sure to burst, I know that soon I'll feel their wings, For off in the distance, and angel sings. W. James Beard, Jr. [This message has been edited by jwesley (edited 06-02-2000).] |
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© Copyright 2000 Wesley James Beard, Jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
wow JW very impressive... such depth, the imagery in the first one is excellent, and the dark emotions of the last one is very heavy.loved the rhyme in it. So much of our inspiration and ideas are effected by the culture and time period we grew up in. glad you shared these take care, jm There are places inside our souls ... that have never been touched. There are places inside our hearts ... that need to be loved this much. ~Janet Marie~ "What the caterpillar calls the end ... The world calls a butterfly" ~Lao Tze Tao~ ~Butterflies are meant to be free~ |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
You've been writing for quite some time! These are good! I enjoyed them very much! Denise |
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Marina Member Elite
since 2000-02-10
Posts 2245Pickering, Ontario |
Who cares where they come from or why......just keep writing! Very much enjoyed! Marina |
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