Poetry

The Lighted Path

The lights luminate for safeties sake, The gravel spilling over it’s walls.

Carefully making it to the dock on the lake, walk on me the lighted path calls.

The retaining wall with caps as white as snow, brighter than the path they glow.

The path marking which way to go, I get lost more than you know.

The basket hang beautifully so, beside them the bird feeders sit.

I take the path as far as I can go, The path not safe, not one bit.

The path uneven more than you know, Be sure to watch where you go.

Poetry

The Lake

The breeze brushes across my face, Cooling with its strength and speed.

I think I’ve finally found my place, the lake having the serenity I need.

The wind slows as the sun appears, bringing with it the afternoon heat.

A frog somewhere behind me I hear, a day like this is hard to beat.

I watch the minnows from where I sit, swimming past without a care.

Mother finally comes into sight, mess with her babies I not dare.

The baskets hang as beautiful as can be, Blooms full with color of white and red.

The birds have yet to visit me, when they do they will be happy and fed.

The hammock hangs off in the distance, I wont use it without assistance you see.

Falling out I’m not taking the chance, There is a scardy cat in me.

As the ripples gently kiss the shore, the shore completely unaware.

I grab the pole with my favorite lure, For a while the lake with it I share.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

The Rails

As children the parallel rails led to many of our destinations, On them we played without the slightest hesitation.

We’d run, jumping every other tie. So much fun, you know why?

The rails were forbidden, from us their joys no longer hidden.

On the rails a penny pressed flat, remember that?

Below the rails a cave like dwelling, my siblings would hide and I’d say, “I’m telling!”.

On the other side lie Tank Pond, of this place I wasn’t fond.

My siblings would go fast as could be, I’d scream “wait for me.”

One day on the way to school, my sister had an idea I thought was cool.

We’d lie on the ties against the rails as by us the train sails.

One time is all it took, now I’d play it by the book.

The rails thereafter had one rule, they were only to be followed to school. Done!

Poetry

Where The Green Grass Grows

Water your lawn that it might grow, come to life as if tending ones soul.

Pay no attention to the neighboring blades of grass, the green doesn’t always last.

Some days wilted and pale, “Help!” I hear the neighboring grass yell.

I ignore it as many times before, I beg of you to tend your lawn more.

Add a bit of sun and a little water, tend it as if it were a daughter.

The neighboring grass is quite a sight, yet being there does not feel right.

Tend your own pastures, lawns and gardens, tell you neighbor 1,000 pardons.

I’m sorry if often I stray, God keep me on your path I pray.

The neighboring blades of grass entice with the afternoon sun staring back at me, I am wise to its tricks you see.

In your own yard take a little pride, the grass is not always greener on the other side.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

The Bouquet

The Bouquet is full and bright, on this God has surely shone his light.

Geraniums crimson red, the color of the blood His son shed.

Suzy she is a black eyed lady, there isn’t a thing about her shady.

The Mandeville bursting with pink blooms, heavy with buds it’s stems loom.

With petals as fine as paper machete, the poppy has come out to play.

The cornflower in the deepest blue, is always staring at you.

Then tiny but true is the one called baby blue.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

Imperfection

Imperfect we were meant to be, so our flaws he could see.

Each of us made unique, so the Savior we would seek.

I have scars that will never heal, imperfect the make me feel.

No one notices nor cares, that someone’s mark my face bares.

These lesions I hide well, to look you cannot tell.

It’s no birth defect-I am not blemished, with me He is not finished.

Poetry

Temptation

The urge to do things not good for oneself, always wanting what is high upon the Shelf.

There are reasons these items are Out Of Reach, taking of them a lesson they shall teach.

These things entice with their Shimmer and shine, all I want is to make them mine.

All That Glitters Is Gold, what age were you when this you were told.

As the devil has his horns, so does the beautiful roses have thorns.

Things you weren’t meant to have, like a Band-Aid to your salve

This is a feeling not real, these Band-Aids cannot heal.

Keep your eyes focused in front of you to say the least, temptation it is a Beast.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

He Is So Not Like Me

I have loved him since the day he was conceived, the joy he brought me I’d never believe.

His personality was that of a clown, lifting me up when I was down.

He was terrified to go on stage, which got much better with age.

Eventually I left his dad, It was the worst feeling I ever had.

Joint custody was not for me, forever changed our life would be.

Me his mother you would never guess, what a beautiful mess.

Drums, guitar, piano are just a few, of the many things he can do.

He is smarter than I ever was, excellent at all he does.

He will never know the love I carry in me, forever in my heart he will always be.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

Anaya

Anaya

She is the CatBoy to my Owlette,
Unless you watch PJMasks that you won’t get.
Today she is Rainbow Dash with lightning speed.
Off to help someone in need.
Later she will be Babs,
Which is fitting cause she gabs.
She is so smart it amazes me,
Something I struggled to be.
Constantly making me smile,
With her personality and style.
She likes to be in charge, Her attitude always at large.
If I do something wrong,
She always lets me know.
A joy she truly is to watch grow. Jill L. Ware

Playing trouble with Anaya at the cabin
Poetry

Beauty and Her Beast

If you aren’t someone she sees almost ever day,

With you her monster likely won’t play.

If she cares for you even the slightest bit,

Out of nowhere her monster you might get.

She tries to keep him on a short chain,

All the while inside her he’s raising Cain.

For no reason at all,

Out of her he crawls.

Like a lion you will hear his roar,

Have you seen him before?

For those that love her it is a blessing and a curse.

You’ve seen her better, seen her worse.

She is confusing to say the least,

A beauty living with her beast.