skywriter-refurbish
Skywriter Skywriter
write me a poem…
i’ve been through the wringer
i feel so alone
i wish i could grow wings
and fly far Away
to ocean horizons where
the Albatross play
i wish i could sprout wings
and fly high above
soar like an Eagle
till I find my true love
feet have grown heavy
legs cannot stand
body is too weary
to stay in this land
Skywriter Skywriter
carve me out a sweet song
sing me a tune
that I may carry on.
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Skywriter Skywriter
write me a poem…
i’ve been through the wringer
i feel so alone
i wish i could grow wings
and fly far Away
to ocean horizons where
the Albatross play
i wish i could sprout wings
and fly high above
soar like an Eagle
till I find my true love
feet have grown heavy
legs cannot stand
body is too weary
to stay in this land
Skywriter Skywriter
carve me out a sweet song
sing me a tune
that I may carry on.
Take flight filtered with GIMP and photoscape
source photo for “Take Flight”:
WEBLOG
Saturday night I watched “Slum Dog Millionaire ” for the first time. I liked the movie. I am reminded what a violent world this for children to grow up in.
Writing poetry is one way I deal with things, including uncomfortable things
A couple my older efforts about growing up in the violence of the world:
Walking down the streets
With holes in his shoes
Empty pocket, heavy mind
And nothing to lose.
He wants to take back
All the promises given
Now banished away
By life’s hard Living.
Thunder crash! random act..
Everyone hit the ground.
One less forgotten soul
on the forgotten side of town.
“Don’t worry” says momma
“He was promised to heaven”
Somewhere a new babe was born
at a quarter to eleven…
i can tell you
what you do is wrong
i can give you
all my judging opinions
in poem, prose or song .
but a single
act of valure
in an unscripted
unreal day
shocks my core
with heroic standard
finite words will never say
*M. Fisher was in her elementary school when she told a gunman to shoot her first, and not her classmates.
In the first poem “Momma” is just a mother, there is no reference to my other posts or usages of “Momma”.
Skywriter Skywriter
Write me a Poem…
I’ve been through the wringer
I feel so alone
‘
I wish i could grow wings
And Fly Far Away
To Ocean horizons where
The Albatross play
‘
I wish I could sprout wings
And fly high above
Soar like an Eagle
Till I find my true love
‘
My Feet have grown heavy
My legs cannot stand
My Body is too weary
To Stay on the Land
‘
Skywriter Skywriter
Carve me out a sweet song
Sing me a tune
that I may carry on.
tonight I am a failure.
I’ve convince myself that I keep my hand out stretched to others,
That sooner or later everyone will
have there hands stretched out
But if I look beyond my own limits
I see a lot of people with
hands clenched in a fist.
and soon or later I ask myself is it my hands
that are clenched in fists.
tonight my hands reach for surrender.
tomorrow is a new day to reach out to…
imperfection is the most beautiful thing to reach for.
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