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Mad Gone Poems
The Green, Green Grass
The green, green grass of home. follows me, no matter where I choose to roam. The blades of grass, weak branches sway upon the breeze, and the birds singing tunes that to the ear so often please.
Leaving the nest
Awakened by the joyful, busy call of the birds, I listen keenly for any sound upon the stairs. No sound of dishes clattering. or of the kitchen doors being battered.
I wish I had just one more time.
I wish I had just one more time, To say how much it meant, that you of all should be my aunt. But God asked of you to watch us from afar.
Alfie died today
Alfie died today, while his family and friends, Knelt to pray. Alfie died today, as the world and I, Just worked away.
Oh good god no! She wants to talk. I grinch my teeth and turn away. My feet are itching, they want to walk. I pick up every second word,
Sunday School on Sunday
The bell tolls, the striking piercing penetrates through closed windows. It won’t go away, it is still striking, it is still piercing. Ringing in my ears for a quarter of an hour. I read Beckett, thinking ‘the world as a stage’.
Joe Black - Friend or Foe?
I try to leave You far behind, Out of sight and out of mind. But you'd sneak up, catch me unawares and refuse to be defined.
All is still throughout the house.
All is still throughout the house, Nothing is stirring, not even a mouse. With nobody here, and someone there, How I dread the squeak upon the stair.
I dreamt that dream once more
I dreamt that dream once more, Though, it faded with the morning light. Now awake, I wished again The sun might go and bring back night.
As I pushed the heavy leaden shopping trolley through the aisles, Preventing the trolley as it tried to the left to sway. A man passed by, as many had did before that day. He looked back and gently asked if I knew the way?
Not a sound, Not a pin dropp on the ground. Hills of green, No one to be seen.
For Whom the Bell Tolls, Anew
My feet pound these streets once more, But now they are no longer sore. The street familiar in the light of day, I am sure I have once been this way.
Dante's Poet Laureate
If I were a poet my voice could be the breeze, Or the gentle whisper of the leaves of trees. But alas I know that I am not And this is all I’ve fear I’ve got.
Call the Cavalry
Call the cavalry, the men, the country folk, Be the brunt of all their stupid jokes, Stand tall, be ready for the almighty fall. while you guard, and answer your god forsaken call.
Comments about Mad Gone
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Green, Green Grass
The green, green grass of home.
follows me, no matter where I choose to roam.
The blades of grass, weak branches sway upon the breeze,
and the birds singing tunes that to the ear so often please.
The village church portraying safely above the hill,
Remembrance of the thriving village and forgotten mill.
The courthouse once more keeps time,
and plays its orderly and merry chime.
The street which no longer sees the train,
looks forlorn and haunting through the rain.
The green spaces where families once occupied,
are now but ghosts of times gone sadly ...