Poetry from the Company
Dictionaries for your convenience
LOVE/LIFE/LYNN
A cool zephyr caresses my hair, scent of honeysuckle fills the air.
I stir, my heart beat races
You are here.
How empty was this earth before you came to me.
I lived, in understandable human ways.
Breathing performing autonomic functions.
For sixteen years of existence believed that this was all there was.
I was content. I thought!
I looked down from the balcony as all else dissolved to mist
Saw you float across the hall to me.
The music changed though the song was still the same.
We looked with our souls, saw the glory that had been and was to be again.
We shone into each other the sparks blazed.
Our love was reborn.
All that had contained this mortal being, expanded to include your essence.
We became one in body, soul, mind, belief,
If God gave me a muses powers I could never set down on cold. crisp. frigid paper, my heat for you.
You enclose me in volcanic iconoclastic gold, cause fission to ignite my mind and burn as if a million Suns.
My darling, Love is such a little word to use for my feelings towards you.
Forgive me! having no stronger Love must do, until I can show you with the ages how vast the emotions behind the word.
I pray for a thousand years to breathe in your precious light.
When the darkness claims its due and I go on my reserved journey.
Weep no tear for me.
I will leave you a golden thread to follow,
so as the wheel turns on its celestial plane
we will once more be united again.
I thank you my darling, for you have given me
life filled with gifts greater than the rarest of
earthly treasures.
Your smile, your cool touch on my fevered brow, your laughter.
The most precious of all.
The right to Love you.
Your breeze borne scent moves a little further away.
my memory reforms it and worships you again.
Love! you are my life.
T.M.CONNOLLY© 2002
Have we Not Learned!!!!!!!
Wind Will Blow
In Flanders Fields the Poppies Grow
In Desert storms the Winds Will Blow,
To The Mark of Freedom Of A Land
the useless killing of Child and Man
Please Watch Over all Who Fight
Let them make it through the Night
Bring them Home safe from Harm
Bring them back to Loving arm
Let Me Wake up from this Dream
Let there Never Be another Regime
How Dare they spill Innocent Blood
in a town made of sand and mud
I kneel here now
and Ask you Why
letting all those people Die
What did they Do but Live their race
Haunted by the innocent face
How many tears have to fall
Fighting a war, fighting a Brawl
I hope you know you have sealed the past
you should have learned from the last
So play your Hide and seek little game
they are hiding nothing, Still you maim
Bring them Home And Fight No More
Bring them Home, BRING THEM HOME
In flander's Field The Poppies Grow
in Desert Storms the Wind Does Blow
~
BY: Arron Earl Smaller ©2003
HEAR MY PLEA
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I hear hate.
I see pain.
Dear God not again.
Give us peace isn't it plain.
One agonized voice drowning in sorrow;
accuses another, to salve their own horror.
Protectively react with words we borrow,
to shield ourselves against the morrow.
We fear that the next target we will be.
Flare as frightened tigers to appear
larger for foes to see.
Not many can withstand the venom of the bee
denying the instinct to run, to flee.
One jab most can handle, slap, crush and mangle.
Yet even some. one sting will cause to strangle.
When the single becomes the swarm, instincts start to tangle.
We square off, choose sides, believe the fantasy and fangle.
permit our better natures to twist and dangle.
My time to share the blame being guilty of the crime.
I to cried out for blood, to hurt to maim.
I plead your forgiveness as we travel,
I know not your pain. lost the child of time
Have not walked the miles as your shoes unravel,
nor gone against your grain.
I humbly offer you my hand, please take it in brotherhood.
Life so short. War to horrible. To fight achieves no gain.
I beg for a chance to sue for peace.
For the chance to be heard and understood.
To share the pain to gain the grace
If refused at least I know within my soul.
I did what I could, what I should.
Small comfort but perhaps, some tiny grain of good.
T.M.CONNOLLY© 2002
