Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


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Outer Space

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In the blackest black

There’s a speck of light

The smallest dot

Or prick of white

.

Day dusts the dawn

With a rosy hue

But from outer space

The earth looks blue

.

How trifling we seem

In the scheme of things

Our egos are all

But we are too small –

Important only in our heads

As we lie musing in our beds

.

©Denise G Allen 27 July 2012 08:38


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A Mother’s Prayer

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Favoured son throughout his youth,

She tried the best she knew in truth,

But he drifted aside from the narrow way,

Lost in the choices of that day.

Now, deaf to all his mother’s pleas,

He can‘t resist the pull of dis-ease,

He‘s drawn along by a magnetic force;

She cannot change the path of his course.

He’s about to self-destruct

As deeper into the mire he’s sucked!

Oh, Father God, in Jesus name

Help the mother to save her son

Fill them with faith and Your unending love

And send them Your strength from heav’n above.

.

© Denise G Allen, 17 July 2012 08:44

See related post.


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An Ill Wind

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It leaves the mountains covered in snow

And dumps its rain beside the hills,

Filling near-empty dams but

Causing flooding in the dells.

.

This wind echoes the sound of the sea

A thousand miles in its wake,

But the land in the east is dry as a bone

And there’s naught its thirst to slake.

.

Warm and snug in bed I lie,

Thinking of those who, unlike I,

Huddle under the cold black sky

And I wonder, ‘Why?’

.

© Denise G Allen 15 July 2012 06:07


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My Poetry

.

It has always been my policy

To write my own kind of poetry

That which comes from my heart

And not my head

No form nor style

Except for a haiku now and then

(where I stayed awhile)

And I was at ease

Until I became trapped

Ensnared by a set on the internet

Discussing correct ‘form’

Which made me drown

In the ether of my discontent

(apologies to Will Shakespeare)

To say nothing of my ignorance

Hundreds – no, thousands of emails later

I have managed at last to free myself

What relief – ‘twas beyond belief…!

Rules are writ to be broken

Like words are wrote to be spoken

We are not so many peas in a pod

Whose poems send me off to the Land of Nod.

.

© Denise G Allen 01 July 2012 08:48