Allegory Poems (898)

N ows here the place Joy Adams was chased
A s the lion cubs let loose followed her scent
I n haste through stores and stalls in riotous glee
R ight to her they led George he begged her to stay
O utwitted in her ploy to go she tried again to leave
B ut the lion cubs sure had other ideas and circled her
I nstead she found that no way could she leave them

written 09/19/2013

As pen is to pencil,
As Ink is to lead,
Instruments of writing,
Similar but different.




As coffee is to tea,
With milk and sugar,
Beverage to drink,
Similar but different.




As song is to poem,
Rhymes and with rhythm,
Lyrical words of emotions,
Similar but different,




As you are to me,
Woman is to man,
God made us to be,
One in holy matrimony!

The trail was long and very dusty
great clouds pluming up from hooves
of the vast herd being wrangled on
300 more miles of eating their dust

Bandanas tightly wrapped round faces
cries of "get up there" ringing out
bawling calves separated from mothers
hiss of hot branding irons scorching

A rumbling constantly moving mass
stretching back as far as eyes can see
horses reeling back and forth, pushing
always pushing them on, 200 miles to go

Storm is approaching as they settle down
tightly bunched up wranglers keeping watch
hard as nails falls the rain, lashing down
cattle milling round and round as flashes

Of lightning light up the sky causing
restless beasts to try to break and flee away
tumultuous thunder now joining in causing panic
"Keep them circling, don't let them break out"

Came the cries of the foreman as they tried to hold
them, chuck wagon knocked over as through camp they run
woe to anyone on foot or even a thrown rider
"keep them going south, They will stop at the river"

Gradually the storm quietens and dies down
first light shows how scattered they are
some needing to be shot where they lay mangled
the rest pushed through the river to the plains

Here they can be regrouped, lush grasses to eat
no urgency now 10 miles or so a day we push them
letting them gain some more weight, 50 miles to go
the foreman sends two men on to warn the yards

At last they see the rail tracks, only 15 miles away
"one last big push lads and we will have them there
tonight we will wet our whistles and eat like kings"
hot tubs to soak in, washing away dirt that is caked

We push them into the waiting pens as they bawl and churn
settled now with fresh hay and water the plaintive calls
of mothers looking for their calves, the wranglers push
them together keeping the bulls apart, they will ship first

Now work is done, 800 miles or so we have driven them
it is time to relax and let our hair down, find ladies
of the night with which to dally for awhile, some poker
played, several fights break out over who gets which lady

As dawn breaks low rumbles from the pens as the cattle stir
the town but for a few still fast asleep, until the train
spitting steam and smoke arrives, and buyers now alight
many offers are made and rejected out of hand, these cows

Are already sold to keep our armies fed as they war against
the Maverick Indians, that are plundering the homesteads
30,000 at start of drove, now reduced to 27,000 or so
loaded up on the train our job is done we are homeward bound

written 09/17/2013

Incandescently shining white
Velvet soft to the touch
Oval shaped shells of oyster
Rings embedded in walnut wood
Yellowing slowly as it ages

Oer' the clouds so high
through the crimson sky
Terns dance and fly
playing happily towards the tide.
The ocean ebbs and flows to
to the subtle motion of the
moon glow.
My beloved appeared unto me
out of the wind swept sea
I see her walking before me
as she reaches out her hand
She said unto me "Come my beloved
tis time to leave for this world
you chose to be is not suited for thee.
Aye' but to consider there may be just one
I have yet to see.
My beloved what is it that I am doing wrong?
why do many not consider my song?
What tune must I sing to impress
those in a dress?
She said unto me "It may not be the song
or the message that your audience
thinks is so wrong.
It could be your intentions are misleading,
noble as they are, you convey a message of
bitterness so far.
Perhaps you should listen to your own advice
you are so quick to give.
Many may not share your vision but they are free
to make their own decision so let it go and let live.
Aye' a point noted indeed so with that I
shall leave things be to a more worthy
note to achieve.

One night She danced upon the moon
A summer night of June
The stars sang to her a lovely tune
Yet, tears flowed from her eyes
as she looked up into the night skies
She could hear the howling of the wolf cries
as the wind whistled and moaned.

She considered her moments of pain to atone
as her heart melted within her bones.
As she looked upon the whole of the earth
she thought of her birth bright as the sun
as she looked upon all the good and evil that had been done.
Her pain ran deep for the ruin of man's pride was just too
steep.

Anger now fed her heart as she watched the inhabitants
fall apart.
So much strife that seems to measure the way of life
so much pain as we wipe off the blood stain of humanity's
pointless gain.

Perhaps the time will come when there is no shining sun
no place to run when the kingdom comes.
Perhaps we can only hope within the larger scope
til the father joins the son that together they will
be our healing for everyone.

Yes til then she will dance upon the moon singing her tune
as the seas start to swoon. Mountains crumble and shake to
the ground no stone will be left around.
The trumpets shall sound and the angels will abound to wipe
away our tears and sullen frowns.
Kings may lose their crown as the stars fall down
to the ground.

Mother Gaia weeps and moans for the hope of the Messiah
upon his return to bring his healing stone.
Until that hour within the summer shower we can only hope
he will take us home.

May then she will have something to dance about.

The old saying goes You can please some of them some
of the time but, can't please them all the time.

Love never happens on time but always at the proper
time.
We are a race obsessed with time always in a hurry
going nowhere waiting within time.

Sign of the times, ruins of time, measures of time.
Some take the time, most never have the time
Some things and people are just a waste of time.

Time is constant having no beginning or end
Yet many claim the end times.
Silly isn't how we can daily waste our time
writing gems of wit when some are just full of it.

Thanks for taking the time to read this
for we are only here for a short time make it count
for all time.

Why do some put others down
do wrong with spiteful intent?
why do we get terrible storms
that wipe out whole villages?

See the poor homeless man
once his life was full
now he sits and begs
for a slice or two of bread

the young girl who only gets abused
what has she done to be treated so?
to have to live in fear every day
wondering when it will happen again?

some people live lives of plenty
never caring anything for others
thinking I am ok in my safe world
its not my problem I don't care

sometimes I want to rant and rave
against all of life's injustices
the foulness that surrounds
the evil deeds committed daily

Traveling the roads of destiny
many surprises to be found
each leading to some new beauty

Some journeys taken most blithely
for exotic places we are bound
traveling the roads of destiny

Fabulous sights from balcony
of spires and ancient battlegrounds
each leading to some new beauty

Journeys some take with ceremony
for new places we are now bound
traveling the roads of destiny

Paths reach out in disharmony
the right one has to be now found
each leading to some new beauty

Some of them full of tyranny
the awful silence of no sound
traveling the roads of destiny
each leading to some new beauty

To be a faceless man
to hide within the shadows
stealth as I can
Nobody would know if I shed a tear
or judge me happy or sad
or running in fear.
Oh, but I may not be truly seen
of what others could try to glean
if I had no face to clean.
I would never have to worry about painting smiles
and nobody would see scars of many miles.
No lines to see, no wrinkles to knead. No being self conscience if
I didn't meet the approval of those around me
for nobody would care
if I was cute, handsome or ugly and nobody would stare.
Yet, is being faceless worse than being mindless
heartless
reckless
or careless?
I wonder indeed.