Treasure Island

BRUCE MARTONE


MANY NIGHT'S [MOTHER MARY COME TO ME ]


many night's I lied awake pretending I'm happy
and many night's I cry myself to sleep
many night's mother Mary come to me
telling me it will be alright
than why do I still cry in the night?
many night's I pace up and down
feeling like my world is spining around
but still mother Mary said it will be alright
than why do I still cry in the night?
many night's I watch the shadows move quietly
and many night's I hear the echoing sounds
of the wind howling waking up my fears
but still mother Mary said it will be all right
than why do I still cry tonight?

Submitted: Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Edited: Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (MANY NIGHT'S [MOTHER MARY COME TO ME ] by BRUCE MARTONE )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Good circle, hasmukh amathalal
  2. Live with this moment, gajanan mishra
  3. The loss may be, hasmukh amathalal
  4. Stay free from desires, gajanan mishra
  5. G O P....Profiling - The Black Republican, James B. Earley
  6. Destroy not, gajanan mishra
  7. I Have Friends, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  8. Leave It As That, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  9. Love & Light, Maharishi Deja Vu
  10. Ill winds, gajanan mishra

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]