Poetry from my Heart

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Image: front cover of Poetry from my Heart

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The Ride

With the tomboy in me ragin`,
I headed for the barn.
Now don’t want anyone to feel
I’m spinnin` them a yarn.

Passed right by the calf pen,
backed up a step or two.
Got this bright idea and said,
'hmmm, that’s what I’ll do!'

Shimmied up the wooden fence,
legs danglin` o`er the side.
Tried to coax a calf or two,
to take me for a ride.

As the yearling bull came close,
excitement mounted up.
My eyes focused from my perch,
I quickly made the jump.

You’d thought a wrangler hit him,
not a ten-year-old girl.
He jumped, ran, bucked, an` kicked,
an` took me for a whirl.

Was lookin` fer eight, but had to
settle for five or six, at best.
I soon discovered I really wasn’t
queen of the wild wild west!

He bucked up to the fence, with me
hangin` on with nine lives,
scraped me `long the old wood boards,
splinters penetratin` like knives.

Teeth gritted, I braced for the fall,
an` headed for the ground.
Sat my tush in a pile of manure,
so fresh, so green and round.

I got up, headed for the house,
an` grandma’s ire an` disdain.
Which wasn’t too bad, for she knew ,
her tomboy would ride again!

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Moon Dance 2

Gazing out my picture window
along the midnight hour;
In moonglow’s realm, stars play
as it proceeds to shower.

Clad in gown of gossamer pink ,
I sail through my doorway;
Meld with night’s iridescent glow,
held sway to joyous array.

Mist glitters on cool barren beach,
my toes caress damp sand.
Moonbeams smile as I reach out,
we go waltzing hand in hand.

Around and `round in abandon whirl,
in rhythm to night’s refrain;
Running, leaping, swirling to,
cascading of the rain.

Nature’s creatures come to life,
as nodding gulls take flight;
To frolic in the freedom of,
sweet silver streams of light.

Enthralled Dolphins dip and dive,
spin high o`er frothy wave;
Beckoning sleeping sea life from,
out of their watery cave.

I dance with passionate ecstasy,
alive with nighttime’s best.
Drop a curtsey as Mr. Moon,
smiles on and winks in jest.

From midnight reverie, I awake,
brush lightly thigh with hand;
Find hanging low on gossamer gown,
my pocket full of sand.

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Image: Char and Michael

Image: front cover

Other pages:

Bob Taylor And The Alien