Bill Cantrell Poems

An echo of light,
which equates to light's soul?
Or the negative of life,
immune to the cold?
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To whom it may concern, I am noticing poem Hunter improving, I miss my friends and I am back to stay, I lost my joy when I left and I want it back, oh well, that's two cents but even two cents can make Poetry if you rub them together the right way
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Does anyone know anything about Susan Williams?
I have missed her so much and concerned, I just haven't seen any post in a long time from her and that's not a good thing
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I have been trying to pen a poem for some time,
still waiting to write the first word
A beginning is a delicate time,
asking nothing but to wait your turn
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It is not without reason,
the butchers dog grins
For the purpose of treason,
a butcher blends in
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There exists a poem,
we hear just before death
Departing in silence,
upon our last breath
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Sacred ground is not this good earth
but where the heart beats with echoes of loyal love,
The cow cries day and night for her calf has been taken
Over time she forgets
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As my days come to a close
and the gloom comes creeping in
I hear the dust calling out to me,
"It time to shed your skin"
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There is a place where dreams collide
And here you drift in with the tide
Here we are,
Underneath the watching stars
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Oh blue skies,
You make my day
A mothers love,
Please blow my way
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