ERNEST CLARY Poems

Married on a river bank in two thousand four
though we was married once before
on the eleventh of september
under the sunny sky
...

Poetry is, her lips touching mine
reflections of candle light
when we dine
under the same blanket warm and snug
...

His old house was on a hill
little evidence left as proof
an old wheel
and some flowers standing aloof
...

Up in the sky at night
thought I was gonna die
flying like a kite
way up high
...

I have no home
I live on the street
when I roam
its on my feet
...

Resting in my burrow
down deep as a rut
Im just a squirrel
chewing on a nut
...

On some dreaded drury day
in my bedded casket buried
I will lay
in the ground among soil and stones
...

Being a vampire
in the night
I must tire
before the light
...

In the mire we will trod
fuel in a fire
without nod
things not dire
...

Hearing the raindrops fall on my roof of tin
brings me to a time way back when
things I once took for granted you see
now seem to be more enchanted to me
...