Mad Gone Poems

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.
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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.
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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.
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High on the hill, with nuclear glow
Steeple reaching upwards and onwards
Condemning both weak and slow.
How ironic that man on gods errands
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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’.
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The streets of Narnia fill will endless chilling snow,
while hearts broken are covered with a new and entertaining show.
how can love between two people ever part?
If love was so sorely torn apart, two parts of one sad lonely heart.
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The white pale blanket covered the newly springing glass,
while hopes and dreams lay unravelled far below.

Time that rushed too frantic past, now silently stands still,
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While the cage door lays wide open
the bird in fear to fly.
The sounds below the floor
I wait upon the door.
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While those, who you had to sadly leave behind,
Remember you fondly for that twinkle in your eye.
The laughing face and that precious smile,
If only there for that brief while.
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Light were once the old bridge stood,
Now, new and reconditioned metal rails.
Old Lordy, saved our Dredge,
“It’ll be rebuilt, by Jove it should.”
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