-

          Golden Days

         ************

Golden Days.

My grandpa walks in through the door
With presents in his wrinkled hands
And smiling lift me off the floor
Though bent and stooped with he stands.

We share a birthday hug and kiss
As love shines in his eyes grown dim,
I hope that I will know this bliss
When birthdays make me old as him.


Mixed Up Tree

***********


Sitting in a mixed up tree
I see the world of fantasy
Where flowers fly and try to land
On bees that grow on bushes
And ants as big a house
Trample tiny elephants.
Where cows are fed
On milk and steak
And cocks find bed
As morning breaks.
Where water stands up tall and straight
And liquid mountains flow and lakes.
Where children go to work all day
While parents say home and play.
Yuck!
I close my eyes and blink to see
My loving mother holding me,
All right now it would seem
I'am glad that it was just a dream.

----------------------------------

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
          Poetry of Sanjay           Author:Sanjay Banerji           1965  -   2012 Cheeky Little grim ****************** “ Are you my darling sweet little child ?” I heard mother say. “ NO” I said with my cheeky little grim And tried to run away. “ Will you come and sit in my lap ?” My good mother asked me. “ NO' I said with my cheeky little grim And tried to struggle free. “ Can I give you a hug and a kiss ?” My loving mother said. “ NO” I said with my cheeky little grim And tried to hide under the bed. “ Do you love me ?” She frowned and as she asked. And I knew she was sad And that I had been bad. So I climbed in her lap And kissed her cheek And hugged her tight With all my might And said “Yes” with my Cheeky little grin.  Refections       .................
Read more
-
Ouch! ******** The brush with the nasty thorn Just stuck me The bee with the nasty buzz Just sung me The cat with the nasty claws Just scratched me The dog with the nasty bark Just bit me My sister who's a nasty girl Just hit me Now I'am so banded up You can't see me. A Little Bit Scary *************** Monsters are not scary. Well, maybe just a bit But if you look them in the eye They shrink a little bit. Goblins cannot harm you. Well, maybe just a bit So bite them hard and run away Before it's you that's bit. Ghosts, they are not real. Well, maybe just a little bit Of all the things around us We know such a little bit. The poem should not scare you. Well, maybe just a little bit.
Read more
-
A Father's Lullaby ***************** Slipping gently into dreams The infant sleep on his father's chest And matching movements of their eyes See a group of mourners gathered. As dirt seals in the fathers grave 'neath a weeping willow in a shady glen And now the child is a man holding infant son With a wreath and teardrop marks the site As he sadly thinks of this very dream He had to the sound of his fathers heart. Their black grab blows in the sun-kissed breeze As they turn their backs on the silent tomb And their tears fall from a lesser height As the weight of sorrow bows their heads. The gone and the living merge in thoughts Each through their piece of chosen time All Parts of a life that now grows cold And the man - both a child and a father- hears The voice of ages softly speak With the love and the sound of his father's heart. On day grieving y...
Read more