The little cottage in the shire

I have walked this road many times,
Pebbles grinding under my feet;
Looking down I keep wondering on,
My gaze never leaving the street.

A flicker of white catches my eye,
Set square in the middle of stone;
A small inviting wooden gate,
Seeming but lost and all alone.

I cannot see my vision is blocked,
By an abundance of blooming roses;
The air is filled with their sweet perfume,
As behind me the little gate closes.

My eyes are ablaze with brilliant color,
Springing up from the ground below;
Someone has taken great time and care,
For such beauty to be able to grow.

Before me stands a storybook cottage,
Made from stone and wood of green;
My heart skips a beat as I take a breath,
I have been here before in my dreams.

At path’s end sits a single chair,
A place set for thinking and solace;
I shall sit down here a short while,
And drink in all the sheer calmness.

Who dwells in this magnificent place?
An answer I will certainly inquire;
For I have fallen earnestly in love,
With this little cottage in the shire.

Poetry Collection Title

I am currently working on a collection of poetry to send in for publication. There is not a related theme, just various subjects. I was thinking of calling the collection either…I See in Rhyme or Rhyme Me a River. What do you think? Too corny?

Or, maybe it is just to early to start thinking about that. LOL!

No one cares.

Anger builds over time,
Too young to know why;
Not willing to listen,
Does not care to try.

Wanting only their way,
Who needs useless rules;
Defiance comes easy,
Who is really the fool.

No one understands,
Closed minds and ears;
Ever shaking their fists,
Simply causing more fear.

No where to run,
Never making a plan;
Rage now takes over,
Flames fueled by the fan.

Into their sanctuary,
With a slam of the door;
Kicking over a table,
Trophies smash to the floor.

Throwing in the CD,
Louder and louder it plays;
The music takes over,
Mind now in a haze.

Reaching under the mattress,
The bottle still there;
Pills fill up the mouth,
Let them come if they dare.

The room is now still,
Just the sound of the song;
Another child has been lost,
What could have gone wrong?

First publication (I hope)…

Well, tonight is the night. I’m going to start work on my first poem to send in for publishing. Oh my, I am so nervous. Do I go simple, majestic, powerful, cute…so many choices. Then again, I think I might just stick with what I believe is my tried and true nature…creating an image in one’s mind and wrapping a story around it…adding a little emotion to tie up the loose ends. I’m stoked. Everybody cross your fingers…and other available parts. LOL!

Taking a deep breath and jumping in…

One day; today

Sun shines; I’m awake.

Warm water; I’m clean.

Cold cereal; I’m full.

Blue shirt; I’m dressed.

Full tank; I’m driving.

Type that; I’m working.

Open door; I’m home.

Pork chops; I’m cooking.

Dirty clothes; I’m cleaning.

Change channel; I’m resting.

Your touch; I’m grateful.

Another day; I’m blessed.

My favorite things…

The morning dew glistening in the sun,
Revealing small webs of life;
The chilly air requires a long soft robe,
Coffee slicing my webs like a knife.

Bacon fumes wafting past my nose,
Inviting me to sweet sustenance;
Feeling my way through sleepy eyes,
To reveal the bounty abundance.

Walking out on the covered porch,
Fingertips brushing the hand hewn log;
I gaze longingly at the mountains,
Watching the slow dance of the fog.

Sitting in the old rocking chair,
Warm coffee cupped in hand;
I spot a small group of deer,
Lazily meandering through the land.

Warm slippers envelop my feet,
As the little dogs go for my lap;
The big dog sniffs the morning air,
And the cat curls in the sun to nap.

Thoughts turn to the two-wheeled steed,
Parked in the barn for the winter;
It never stops calling to me,
The sun and wind it wants to splinter.

The warmth gives way to a wind,
And the glorious snow starts to fall;
Gigantic flakes of shining crystals,
Slowly drifting down covering all.

I hear the screen door open,
A familiar voice cuts the air;
A hand clasps mine from behind,
As we both settle down in the chairs.

Sounds of crackling from the fire,
The smell of wood makes me smile;
Another perfect day has begun,
My favorite things again compiled.

Peace and quiet

Looking out in the distance,
The path seems to blur;
Where land meets the sky,
I can not be sure.

A thick blanket of white,
Untouched and pristine;
Laid out like a carpet,
Not a step to be seen.

As if a million diamonds,
All glistening with light;
The snow dances with sparkles,
Such a wondrous sight.

Standing proud and tall,
And lined up in rows;
Branches leaning outward,
Touching tips in a bow.

I walk under the canopy,
All about is so calm;
No wind blows the pines,
The needles making no song.

A lone snowflake falls,
I am transfixed by its flight;
Sheer beauty in motion,
No more beautiful a sight.

It looks cold up ahead,
With the absence of color;
Mittens warm on my hands,
My breath will they hover.

My steps make a sound,
The only sound I hear;
Crunching through the white,
It tickles my ears.

I am completely enchanted,
By the peace and the quiet;
The solitude beckons,
A beaming ray of light.