- Nov 11, 2003
- 2,835
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- Faith
- Non-Denom
- Marital Status
- Single
just a three part i wrote
Old Miss
In the hard weight of the hearts,
besides the scrap metal of tornadoing darts,
under the grey clouds chained and linked,
over where the rotten old ships sinked,
a coil of messy golden hairs,
sitting and waiting on old crumbled stairs,
the lights are all out and used,
the heat gone and abused,
eyes of hazel strained and blurry,
mind in a tumble and of a hurry,
a realm of quiet tomb,
plants neglected and unbloom,
skin as pale, the snow at night,
and ghostly to a haunting fright,
voice a crackling to the earthly rot,
and sending harmonic strings to knot,
walking shriveled by a limp,
finding food, mainly those of shrimp,
out on the narrow board walked harbor,
lined by dying, tortured arbor,
thus then, the sea bell tolls,
the winds heavy, break and rolls,
her ears pierced by the loud clangs,
still the bell bangs and bangs,
hissing a fit, finding her pace,
her legs dangling under the old knit lace,
old bones ache every corner
her feet being the only mourner,
she reaches back to her patched brown chair,
eyes start to water, continue to stare,
with vivid memories of short-lived youth
all shelved in her heart, in a special old booth,
this was a lady, tattered and torn,
grey skied, and heavy heart born,
teased and taunted throughout her elder age,
at others expense, placed on the staring stage,
Unloved Revisted
Under the mess of a scattered lady,
remained the other days of little miss O'Grady,...
The thoughts of soothing passing breezes,
coloring the skies and waving trees,
and a mouth without thirst and drought,
and goals big as the bloated sun, flying without doubt,
but thus,
...the heeds of wanted love brought its weight,
her wings began to break, she couldn't fly straight,
everyday was a course of crave and want,
a crave that captured, tired and of daunt,
looking and looking, south and north,
to and fro, back and forth,
but alas, no suitor, no prince,
her eyes lost their flare, with a trace of a wince,
oh!! What is love??!!
Nothing but symbolic ties wrapped by a pesky dove!!
Why the bother or the whine,
I've never witnessed, nor seen a sign,
its only left me broken,
loud and angry, not soft-spoken,
beauty is which of,only what I've heard of fairytale,
leave it to jail, let someone else bring it out on bail!!
Back to the Ashes
The memory flew away like old crows flocking,
she came back to thought, with the sound of the trash boat docking,
why, oh why, did the pain replay,
she thought, as her eyes strayed to the seagulls scanning the bay,
the old grey clouds, whisked as the night echoed the eastern hill,
the windows tapped, and in came a chill,
her skin frazzled and whined at the cold,
just another part of playing old,
just days of waiting to be spent,
and not knowing what love was to be meant,
eyes of sorrow,
and waiting death in the morrow.....
Old Miss
In the hard weight of the hearts,
besides the scrap metal of tornadoing darts,
under the grey clouds chained and linked,
over where the rotten old ships sinked,
a coil of messy golden hairs,
sitting and waiting on old crumbled stairs,
the lights are all out and used,
the heat gone and abused,
eyes of hazel strained and blurry,
mind in a tumble and of a hurry,
a realm of quiet tomb,
plants neglected and unbloom,
skin as pale, the snow at night,
and ghostly to a haunting fright,
voice a crackling to the earthly rot,
and sending harmonic strings to knot,
walking shriveled by a limp,
finding food, mainly those of shrimp,
out on the narrow board walked harbor,
lined by dying, tortured arbor,
thus then, the sea bell tolls,
the winds heavy, break and rolls,
her ears pierced by the loud clangs,
still the bell bangs and bangs,
hissing a fit, finding her pace,
her legs dangling under the old knit lace,
old bones ache every corner
her feet being the only mourner,
she reaches back to her patched brown chair,
eyes start to water, continue to stare,
with vivid memories of short-lived youth
all shelved in her heart, in a special old booth,
this was a lady, tattered and torn,
grey skied, and heavy heart born,
teased and taunted throughout her elder age,
at others expense, placed on the staring stage,
Unloved Revisted
Under the mess of a scattered lady,
remained the other days of little miss O'Grady,...
The thoughts of soothing passing breezes,
coloring the skies and waving trees,
and a mouth without thirst and drought,
and goals big as the bloated sun, flying without doubt,
but thus,
...the heeds of wanted love brought its weight,
her wings began to break, she couldn't fly straight,
everyday was a course of crave and want,
a crave that captured, tired and of daunt,
looking and looking, south and north,
to and fro, back and forth,
but alas, no suitor, no prince,
her eyes lost their flare, with a trace of a wince,
oh!! What is love??!!
Nothing but symbolic ties wrapped by a pesky dove!!
Why the bother or the whine,
I've never witnessed, nor seen a sign,
its only left me broken,
loud and angry, not soft-spoken,
beauty is which of,only what I've heard of fairytale,
leave it to jail, let someone else bring it out on bail!!
Back to the Ashes
The memory flew away like old crows flocking,
she came back to thought, with the sound of the trash boat docking,
why, oh why, did the pain replay,
she thought, as her eyes strayed to the seagulls scanning the bay,
the old grey clouds, whisked as the night echoed the eastern hill,
the windows tapped, and in came a chill,
her skin frazzled and whined at the cold,
just another part of playing old,
just days of waiting to be spent,
and not knowing what love was to be meant,
eyes of sorrow,
and waiting death in the morrow.....
