Long hot summer nights when we were young,
Girls were so pretty, ballads were sung.
Where have they gone, those soft balmy nights?
When we lay together in the fires sparkling light.

Through wide open eyes I stare through times mist
To the places we lay, embraced and kissed,
Caressed and loved by the firelights glow,
All friends together, where did they go?

Soft ball
A game of choice
With moving arms and legs
Showing talent and learned skills
My sport

It happened suddenly on that day anew
When the tree feller slipped on the morning dew
With his arms aloft and the chainsaw revving
He butchered a young trainee named Kevin
The trainee made a grimace
As the chainsaw cleaved his face
He looked helpless standing there
With his eyeball flying through the air
LOTS AND LOTS OF THRILLS AND SPILLS
ON THAT FATEFUL DAY...AT THE SAWMILLS!
And then in the car park a passer-by
Happened to slip upon the eye
Into the boss's mean machine

My grandmother is alive
in black and white, perpetual life
in holy photographs that have

slipped through hands,
and years,
and brief visits back in time -

a breeze resting on her porch,
a white apron on her clothesline,
an aged hand dancing with her fountain
pen, playing with my name.

Her dark eyes sometimes spoke
of her passing melancholy.
Yet, like a sequence of soft echoes,
her voice showed little sadness.

With the spiritual abilities of infinite energy,
Contained within the universes unique soul,
Released through connections of synchronicity,
Uniting our essence to the divine whole.

Mental communication to unknown galaxies,
Cosmic telepathic shamanic and refined,
Unravelling the cosmic lifeforces complexity,
Through questioning a uniquely subtle sublime.

I can’t tell you
about the mess we’ve made
though the walls couldn’t speak
i could feel their pressing gaze

now i wait for the end
with my chest held down
and eyes laden
by more than just gravity

I think,
we have done no wrong
but my mouth tastes of metal
and this crown weighs heavily

Daughter
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson 

Daughter  

Who gets told  
You look just like your mother  

Who works so hard to be  
The best parts of who she is 

But has spent all of these years  
Trying to figure out  
Why she did  
The worst thing she ever did 

Daughter  

Who comes from generations
Of farmers  

Where the women keep the house  
And make the supper  
Who go to work as nurses and teachers  

nothing comes in easy way
see,you always have to pay -
price can be of very high
or the smallest, they'd apply -
every thing that you can do
is worth something and it's true -
people built of all the things
they create and share, that brings
out what we are and
who we were, my friend -
what's the most important, well
it builds the future us, I'd tell

Solemn Bells

When doves are abandoned
So returns your honor to love

The lump in your throat swells
The cohesion of tears tumbles

Taste bitter down the side of your face
Despair leaves nothing to lawfully object

The place seems surreal and forsaken
But the deafening ring reminds you

To blink and breathe in the last scent
Hands solemnly trace the dress laid to rest

Happy couple speeches go unuttered
As the altar possession is halted

I am building something up in me

It will be my only lasting legacy

When people see they will not believe

It will be a wonder for them to see

I have kept it so well hidden

What I have built is forbidden

When what I have built is revealed

It will be too late; my fate will be sealed

I have been building it up in me so long

I cannot rip it down though it is wrong

One more step and it will be done

It will come out of the dark into the Sun

They will try to break it down brick by brick