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Editing - draft

America Stands... [Rhyme Patterns Workshop]

As I walk across this land
I walk with fear hand-in-hand
What does our future life portend
Is Democracy about to end?

We should not forget our fight
To see our way through the night
To come so far and fall down
Don't let tyranny steal Liberty's crown

Shall we turn our other cheek
Let the strong dominate the weak
Or accept the poor wreck of man
I don't think that I can

I will defend your right to say
It cannot be another way
Show the world we can unite
Let us do what is right

Fall-moon

Fall-moon lends silver ~
the small change of golden rays
stolen from the sun.

Just one more Spring

Dear God in Heaven, it is time
to let this Winter come to end;
none too soon, let shorter shadows
fall with the reborn sun’s ascent.

Spring--oh most joyous time of year!
The phantom on my sundial clock
again grows stronger. Now arrives
the robin and a starling flock

to fill the air with pleasant notes.
Too, here and there a lark does sing,
the crocus shyly lifts its head
to welcome new, still bashful Spring.

Autographs of My Famous Friends

Ma’s hands cupped over her face as
sadness dripped like spring rain that falls from
the sill where orchids bloom from red maple mulch.

I just stood there helpless, thinking that
she had always been so sensitive and
I could see memories flooding her mind.

The book just happened to open to a blank page that
she had written on forty years ago
wishing me a successful and happy life.

Surprised that I still had my book of famous friends,
she put her arms around me and said,
"I love you"

Call Waiting...

The tiny light speeds on and on
Streaking away from our galaxy
In darkest space, far from dawn
Bringing news of you and me

Greetings and glad tidings too
Read my plaque, decipher it
Figuring out what to do
Wipe away the journey's grit

A message that was tossed in space
To far away and never
Now may you look upon our face
Our boldest venture ever

To find new life or is it old
Are we all alone?
We look about our universe cold
Waiting by the phone

Love sublime

I feel a trembling in my soul
a harmony of scents and sounds
like a forest coming to life
and I think of you in its whispers.

This melancholy heart of mine
trembles and burns
all nature seems to echo my words
and I feel as though immortal.

It is as though the meadows
have been lit by the rising sun
and the world's splendours
are revealed to us alone.

Unfiltered <---- (February contest entry)

Cannot focus:
Hocus pocus,
Abracadabra – wait! Hold on-
What am I saying?
My mind is fraying . . .
Diddle-ee-dum and Hee-hee-

No!
Get it together!
You can do better!
Concentrate!
Replicate!
Indicate!
Fascinate . . .

Lost it again.
Come on, try again:
“The root of the matter
Is skinny, and flatter
Than my grandma’s pancakes . . .”

No, I’m not hungry,
Or am I? This bungee-
ride is chaotic
And makes me err-
otter! No, odder.

Lost in Parkland...

Lost...
Wandering the dark
A spark waves to me
From beyond the lights

Rushing to observe it closer
I lose my way
Turned around
I have no reference

Circling the parking-lot
Looking for the car
I didn't save the memory
They all look the same

The dog in that truck
With the thousand yard stare
Gives me the once over
I wonder how long he's been waiting

Cowgirls...

Contented cows chewing cud
They watched as Hank walked by
Leaning on the fence, slinging mud
They stared with big brown eyes

Oh, have a look at those hands
Strong but gentle now
He's the best in these here lands
He sure does know just how

I was full to bursting yesterday
He relieved me well
His hands are gentle, I must say
He made me feel so swell

He warms his fingers before he starts
Not like farmer Brown
Whose hands are cold as his heart
I hate when he sits down

Prairie Blossom

(a North-American Indian Tale)

By the river in the prairie,
By the river clear and sweet,
Stood Prairie Blossom’s cosy tipi
That sheltered her ‘gainst freeze and sleet.

Little Prairie Blossom lived there
With her mother, with her father
(When he wasn’t hunting deer or elk
In the prairie with her older brother).

Now, when dawn cast probing fingers
‘cross the parting night’s horizon,
Prairie Blossom yawned, then slowly
Rose up from her skin of bison,

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