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| Of Moonlit Memories |
*Click on the Poem Title to enlarge |
It astounds me when people complain 24/7
about the human behavior they dislike!
It really baffles the mind when they turn around
and do exactly what they dislike about others!
Kim Listro
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It's getting too late,
For you to go alone,
I'll see you home tonight;
It's dark as pitch,
And no starlight,
I'll see you home tonight.
Don't worry your head,
Get your wraps,
I'll see you home tonight,
And on your own little hearth,
You'll nap real tight,
Because I saw you home tonight.
Howard Simmon
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Shattered like glass are our hearts thus far,
people with broken hearts you know who you are.
Gave our trust, put our hearts in someone else's hands,
but they were selfish and only thought of their own demands.
Played with our hearts like it was all right to do,
and every I love you wasn't even true.
We let them in and they leave their scar,
to go off and break somebody else's heart.
So I just let go and let my heart begin to heal,
because I'll never know if his feelings were real.
So if you to have been through this plight,
I'm here to tell you it's gonna be all right.
Because one day they, too, will let someone in,
and that person will leave a scar.
And then they, too, will know what it's like,
to have a broken heart.
Felicia Osuley
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There is a river that flows through life, that pulls and tugs and draws
everything it touches away
from the stagnant safety of the banks.
The wondrous joy of this river will carry you to places
you've never been before.
That joy seems to consume everything in its path.
The air is sweeter. The breeze, more gentle.
Colors appear that have never before been seen.
The most ordinary things become extraordinarily beautiful.
Such is life.
Suddenly the current rolls you under
and pounds you down against the rocks.
The pain is intense and you fight just to breathe.
You feel trapped in a hammering undertow that is trying to destroy you. Fear intensifies and all you can see
is the thick blackness of the depths below you.
Such is life.
When the undertow has had its fill of pounding you
and there are not enough rough edges remaining on you for it to grasp, you escape its clutches and once again rise to the surface . . .
smoother, cleaner, free of jagged edges that held you down.
Once again the air is sweeter. The breeze, more gentle.
Colors appear that have never before been seen.
The most ordinary things become extraordinarily beautiful.
Your senses are sharpened and the joy of the river carries you along. Such is life.
Susan Gaston
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©2006 Watermark Press
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