|
Out of the Mist
As I watched the two of them come out of the mist--
It was plain to see the love, as they stopped to kiss.
He looked carefully around, as they stood together--
Then they walked on, not touching each other.
Slowly they glide along not taking any chance--
They would be discovered, even by a glance.
They never knew that I was watching close by--
Then something happened and they left with a cry.
A long time later they were back, side by side--
As I watched out my window, I saw love and pride.
And, then the mother swam out with all three--
While the father goose watched and guarded his family.
|
|
|
I was born in Durant, OK July 17th 1935.
I've lived in the Davis, Oklahoma area for over 40 years, and started to
write poetry about five years ago. I quit smoking and started writing!
I have been published in "Happiness" magazine last year "Angel Face". I've
also had a couple of poems published in two of the larger poetry contest
anthologies.
--Joyce Bonham
|
|
|
The Street Sweeper
For years he worked for the city,
Keeping things clean and neat.
He went to work after dark because...
His job was sweeping the street.
For years he picked up the trash,
And gathered up all the dust.
He earned a living for his family...
He did the job, because he must.
Long before dawn, he went home,
Feeling pride at leaving a cleaned street.
How many can say? at the break of day...
One more time, "My job is complete."
For many years he did his job,
Did it well, according to the plan.
Sometimes he would wonder if folks knew...
The City had a street cleaning man.
The years went by, the work went on,
The cleaning man got old and gray.
Soon only his family remembered and knew...
When the street cleaning man went away.
Now the families are scattered and gone,
And the streets are cleaned by a machine.
The city grew, and before we knew...
No one cared -- if the streets are clean.
|
Mildred Sitting
Bull-Miller
We laughed when we talked --
about hunting the buffalo.
It was something we intended to do--
but, we never got to go.
When you got to feeling better--
we were going to finish the plan.
Just, drive out to the mountains--
and find the buffalo, if we can.
Watching them eat the grass--
we would think of long ago.
We would talk of your ancestors--
like Sitting Bull and other Arapaho.
It’s true, we never really went hunting--
except in our minds it was so.
We went back to the old days--
just pretending--to hunt the buffalo.
The spirits of your loved ones--
they are here and roaming free.
And flowing thru these Wichita Mountains--
I can feel your love reaching out to me.
We are missing you so very much--
but it was time, you had to go.
And now--we are the ones left behind--
while you are laughing and hunting the buffalo
|
