R. K. Hart

Rookie - 96 Points (Australia)

R. K. Hart Poems

1. Finding My Love 8/24/2012
2. The Tulip And The Wattle 8/24/2012
3. You And I Entwined 8/24/2012
4. Little Did We Understand 8/25/2012
5. I Will Walk 8/26/2012
6. I Once Had The Body Of A God. 8/28/2012
7. Samuel Silly Susage 8/29/2012
8. It's The Doing That's Hard. 8/30/2012
9. The Cast Iron Kettle 9/3/2012
10. Rachel 9/17/2012
11. The Promise 9/17/2012
12. Jesse 9/19/2012
13. Young Mother Has A Secret. 9/19/2012
14. The Prince Of The Road. 9/22/2012
15. Benjamin 9/23/2012
16. Madison 9/23/2012
17. When 9/24/2012
18. Memories 9/29/2012
19. Cradled In His Love 9/29/2012
20. Lifes Picture 10/6/2012
21. Mother And Beloved 10/9/2012
22. The Gun 10/16/2012
23. His Kingdom He Storks 10/19/2012
24. Blacken History 10/24/2012
25. Soldier Grey 10/29/2012
26. My Beloved 10/31/2012
27. Evelyn 11/1/2012
28. Monolith 11/7/2012
29. But Half A Man 11/7/2012
30. Precious Promises 11/11/2012
31. The Old Bridge 11/13/2012
32. My Sweet Bride 11/14/2012
33. The Flower 11/14/2012
34. Victoria, State Of Beauty 11/15/2012
35. Little Tip Girl 11/22/2012
36. The Old Man Sat Shaking 11/29/2012
37. Little Donkey /The Stable 12/5/2012
38. Southern Cross Saviour 12/6/2012
39. Theif Of The Heart 12/6/2012
40. Bull Dust 12/9/2012
Best Poem of R. K. Hart

A Fathers Words To His Child.

Children are the gentle breezes for which parents plea.
They come they play around us then they flee.
We would hold them to our breast,
Protecting against all of life's dreadful tests.

You teach and doggedly hold.
But the day must come when they break from the mold.
With resounding break of a parental heart.
They step away, a life of their own to start.

I watched a beautiful young woman as she stepped the isle.
With maids surrounding she flashes her parents a comforting smile.
Where is the tomboy, who bowled the boys out?
And where is our back yards ...

Read the full of A Fathers Words To His Child.

Finding My Love

She might be the one, who stands outside theatre grand,
Waiting for the wealthy with ribboned violets in hand.
Her clothes hand me downs from a mother long gone,
She may be the one to raise my heart to sing its song.

She could be found by rushing stream pounding clothes on washing rocks,
Or scaling fish surrounded by gulls, boats and docks.
Her perfume might be that of soap or salt on misty air.
This fair maid could cause a young man's heart to dare.

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