|
This Is A Place Of Rememberance
A Rose For Momma
When momma was so very young
And around my grandparents the young boys hung.
Many a rose was passed her way
But I gave momma her last rose today.
Momma was a working hand
Never had time to stop and hear lives band.
Always working to care for us kids
Or trying to make daddys life easier and most often did.
You see momma was a lady, one like you hardly see today
She did what she could to help make ends meet and the bills to pay.
Cooking and cleaning then into the fields to plant
Many a day her and dad worked from can to cant.
But when dad would bring a rose home for momma it always made her day.
For momma was a simple lady, and the luxuries of life slipped away.
Her strength guided us kids and often a switch to our behind
Someone that loved her more than dad and us kids you wont find.
Momma took us to Church on Sunday morn,
If we tried to play hooky we would find her scorn.
So many times I love you would have been a simple thing to say,
But I gave momma her last rose today, for yesterday she passed away.
©David R. Alexander
April 27, 2003
All Rights Reserved
Postscript:
This poem I have written for my wife for her mother, who passed away several years ago. She was everything that is written here and more.
 KIN
It ain't
same blood,
same color,
same face!
It just
people
'bout freedom
and a handshake
sayin hearts
and a big smile.
Kin love liberty
,.family
and friends.
Kin is short
for...Ameri..KINS!
©Caliber...(just for fun)
5/03
The Marble King
Fifty years ago
I grew up in a one stoplight town
knew all the neighbors around
with a wave of their hand
they welcomed our little band
We roamed the tree lined streets
in search of a hot marble game
On the old school playground,
down on his knees he could be found,
with all of his subjects gathered around
From all over town, the champions came
and it was the luckiest of everything
if you could get a game with the Marble King
He had all our Steelies in his keeping
leaving us with cats eyes and much weeping
We would hurry to to the dime store
and pluck down our quarters for some more
and go hunting him for another game,
praying God would sharpen our aim
Now the the streets are all two lane,
busy and with traffic lights they abound...
And nowhere...can the Marble King be found
©Faye Sizemore 6/4/03 |
