Roger A. Rose
Roger A. Rose Poems
|2.||Sing A Song Of Me||10/3/2008|
|4.||First Memory Of Urinals||7/28/2014|
|9.||Sun And Moon And Halcyon Days||8/18/2014|
|10.||My Father, In A Dream.||7/14/2015|
|11.||Just A Thought||3/2/2015|
|12.||A Gathering Of Roses||10/4/2014|
|13.||The New Year||12/31/2014|
|15.||To My Sister On The Death Of Our Father||7/29/2014|
|16.||The Old School||10/3/2008|
|17.||The Lights From Under The Snow||10/2/2008|
|18.||Tears For Oklahoma City||7/30/2014|
|19.||The Night Sky||8/24/2014|
The Night Sky
I lay on my back, gazing at the majesty of the ebony sky;
playing connect-the-dots with the silver spots,
drawing pictures with my mind.
Clouds whisk by, sculpted by unseen winds in whimsy,
fantasy figures painted on heavens' canvas,
as real as imagination renders.
Here, bathed in a warming breeze, comforted by mother earth,
limbs have ceased the ache of oppressive years,
and youthful thoughts return anew.
I lay as the boy from the picture in my parents room,
with my forearm across my eyes, one leg drawn up,
to ponder with melancholy.
The Old School
I remembered the first of the days,
when Mama dragged me by the hand,
heel-dug in the gravel of the playground;
into the unknown.
Later, after the new was off,
pretending to nap on my braided rug
trying to see under the teachers dress,
not knowing why or what I was looking for.
In the now tiny chairs of first grade,