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