Unsure, as ever.
in contemplation of all that I can see
My thoughts encompass love and loss, given me as mine
and why that it should be that I am me.
Complexity of thought and deed my cross throughout the years
This child, this boy, this man of many shades
Slipping in and out of me with ease to hide my fears
The child of dreams at war with man of rage
I glimpse the shadowed stranger now sat grim in my recall,
his bible holy hands clasped in a prayer
His belt of leather pain ever near, hooked on the wall,
and I see his eyes of anger at me stare.
She rocks the cradle of her dreams by the firelight glow,
as flickering shadows dance around the room
Her poignant silhouetted form sits swaying to and fro,
her voice a lullaby spun from loves loom.
Oh mother dear of gentle hand and countenance serene
your dulcet tones remain etched on my soul
your threadbare shawl of poverty cloaked warmth within it's seams
as with mothers love your arms did me enfold.
Anger leaps with horns of hate, his memory to gore
Tears of rage fall down like acid rain
forgiveness not a part of me, my fee forever more
Shall I ever rid myself of his seeds pain.
And now the child within the man emits a soulful cry
Echoing his first primordial scream
As from sky's of sorrow he would now at last seek to fly
back to that cradle of his mothers dreams.
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 1204 times
Written on 2007-01-08 at 13:57
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Cradle of Dreams.
I sit in introspection in the fullness of my time,in contemplation of all that I can see
My thoughts encompass love and loss, given me as mine
and why that it should be that I am me.
Complexity of thought and deed my cross throughout the years
This child, this boy, this man of many shades
Slipping in and out of me with ease to hide my fears
The child of dreams at war with man of rage
I glimpse the shadowed stranger now sat grim in my recall,
his bible holy hands clasped in a prayer
His belt of leather pain ever near, hooked on the wall,
and I see his eyes of anger at me stare.
She rocks the cradle of her dreams by the firelight glow,
as flickering shadows dance around the room
Her poignant silhouetted form sits swaying to and fro,
her voice a lullaby spun from loves loom.
Oh mother dear of gentle hand and countenance serene
your dulcet tones remain etched on my soul
your threadbare shawl of poverty cloaked warmth within it's seams
as with mothers love your arms did me enfold.
Anger leaps with horns of hate, his memory to gore
Tears of rage fall down like acid rain
forgiveness not a part of me, my fee forever more
Shall I ever rid myself of his seeds pain.
And now the child within the man emits a soulful cry
Echoing his first primordial scream
As from sky's of sorrow he would now at last seek to fly
back to that cradle of his mothers dreams.
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 1204 times
Written on 2007-01-08 at 13:57
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
josephus |
|
Phyllis J. Rhodes |
