That Ain’t Right It’s Just So Wrong

It's not good  for  a person to live so long                                                                                   Everyday I sing this sorrowful song                                                                                                    From late at night to the early dawn                                                                                                       My brother and sister have long been gone                                                                                That ain't right,  it's just so wrong

They were both much younger then me                                                                                        Can someone put me out of my misery                                                                                           Life is too short, that's what people say                                                                                         Not mine, looks like I'm here to stay                                                                                                  That ain't right,  it's just so wrong
The other day I heard a motorcycle go by                                                                                      The sound of that engine made me cry                                                                                                           I rode a Harley Davidson, candy apple red                                                                                        Ma yelling, get off that thing or you'll end up dead                                                                    She was wrong,  she was just so wrong

In this wheelchair I sit still hanging on                                                                                      Even though I'm old I feel very strong                                                                                          What a crying shame what a pitiful pity                                                                                 Nothing but wrinkled skin that sure ain't pretty                                                                     That ain't right,  it's just so wrong         
Guess by now your tired of  listening to me
Well out of this body I too would like to be free
A paradise is at the end just waiting for me
I know for a fact because I've been given the key
That is right,  it's just so right

Author Eileen Clark  2023

Image: chopperexchange.com

Last Wishes

I am happy to inform all my followers on WordPress  that my poem  “Last Wishes” has been published  on  Spillwords Press. I would like to thank Dagmara K., and the  Spillwords  Press team for publishing this and other poems I have written, Most sincerely, Eileen Clark

Click on Link Below:

https://spillwords.com/last-wishes/

I want to walk down a gravel road
Hear stones crunching under my feet
On one side Daisies and Black Eyed Susan's
On the other a field of swaying wheatI want to sit at an old picnic table
Near a lake, in the woods, under trees
That shouldn't be asking for too much
There was a time when I did all of theseI want to ride my bike, take a hike
Dig my toes down in hot ocean sand
Smell of nature in all the pasture land
I want to rake up red and yellow leavesAlas, a finial plea amongst all of these
Is to thank Jehovah one more time on bended knees
Stead in a wheelchair I sit, on my porch, in the breeze

Author Eileen Clark I am happy to inform all my followers on WordPress that my poem "Last Wishes" has been published on…

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That Glorious Sound

Every kid loves to hear that glorious sound                                                                                 The crack that echoes around the playground                                                                                             A young boy just swung his tightly gripped bat                                                                             Like lightning he runs leaving behind his blue hat

Right off  it's a home run for this newly formed team                                                       Friends shouting, hardly believing what they've just seen                                               Running past each base we can hear this young lads dreams                                                        Hey dad, someday I'm going to be on the big league teams

Author Eileen Clark 2023

Image ~  istockphoto.com
Also ~ scrippsranchll.org

Howling Winter Wolves

The day is a gray one and bitter cold                                                                                           Wind slapping my face piercingly bold                                                                                             The snow is icy white, the top layer is hard                                                                                            My forced footsteps leave the service scarred

Not a sound is heard, noises freeze in mid air                                                                              Later the moon exposes that activity was their                                                                          Some rabbits, deer and even some wolf tracks                                                                     Leaving me to wonder, are they running in packs
 
Tired and hungry, I head back to my lodge                                                                               Safe, yet feeling there is something I just dodged                                                                looking out my window I see shadows prowling                                                                     There they are on the hill, I hear the wolves howling
Author Eileen Clark 2023
Painting by Eileen Clark

I Weight To Be Thin

Thin child you are
always sad
long walks alone
Mothers weighty
Eats nothing but salads
Don’t sit at table
Too jealous of child
It gets colder with age
Skinny since birth
long walks away from home
Time changes nothing
Gets bigger each year
still trying to lose weight
Eat salad, stay home, don’t run
No new dresses

Author Eileen Clark

This is NOT about me, just trying my hand at Fusion poetry, not sure I like it.

Image :google.com

I Didn’t See That Coming

Shell I tell you what I suddenly see                                                                                   A little girl grew up in front of me                                                                                          It's like I barely even turned around                                                                              There you stood in this beautiful gown

Yesterday you had just turned six                                                                           Wrestling boys and throwing sticks                                                                                This has really happened, can you see                                                                    You've grown up quickly and quite pretty

I didn't take enough pictures or keep a baby book                                                     Now I see you and my feelings have been shook                                                         Look at yourself and forgive me while I have a cry                                                          I didn't even get to say to that little girl goodbye
Author Eileen Clark 2023

Image ~ My Granddaughter Taylor

My Ink Is Drying Up

My ink is drying up and my pen no longer writes smooth                                                This just can't happen now, to many thoughts I will loose                                      Fading away this old body, still more to write, to be heard                                         My memories and precious images are becoming a bit blurred

My hand shakes, the paper gets wrinkled as I write so fast                                                But I must write quickly while the thoughts in there still last                                       Some verses, as I write I laugh, often things were very funny                                        Then the sad things, my tears make the ink blurred and runny

So pass my writings down to every family child that arrives           Never just store them away in some back room archives                                            May the pages look well read, the corners torn and tattered                                                It will be a way of telling me, to you my poems mattered


Author Eileen Clark

Image ~ tattered pages on a old book of poems – Google Search

google.com

My Calico Cat

I Have a calico cat very quiet and shy                                                                                He disappears when my friends stop by
They tease and ask, does he meow or cry
Are we ever going to see this little guy

His toys are scattered around on the floor
I have padding on every corner and door                                                                When you are here in his invisible presence                                                               Things to know to make your visit pleasant

Sit still and be calm so he can get to know
His instincts will tell if you're friend or foe
He'll grab at your foot from under the couch
Then grab the other before you can say ouch

Time has passed and my cat’s doing well
He now wears a collar with a little bell
So when he hides he’s not so hard to find
Such a blessing cause he hides all the time

I don't let him out to play in the warm sun
It’s hard for I know he would have such fun
He bumps into chairs and walks into the wall
He doesn't know which way to go when I call

I've had my cat now for quite a few years                                                                            When he leaves I will shed many tears                                                                            He has been a handful but I don't mind
My precious little calico cat is totally blind.

Author Eileen Clark

Image: Pinterest

White Linen

Linen, the smell of fresh crisp clean white linen,                                   You can't capture the smell of linen in a bottle though they try.                                                                                                         When I think of linen, it's with a bitter sweet sigh,                                           I think of my childhood memories of good times gone by.

Napkins,  candles and table cloths, white with white design,                                                                                                  Ready for Sunday dinner with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents so fine,                                                                                   Pot roast, chicken, mashed potatoes and strawberry rhubarb pie.                                                                                            Linen,  fresh clean memories, happy times gone by.

Life was livable and children were sweet and quiet and shy,             Streets filled with bicycles and roller skates, marbles and  jacks and kites in the sky.                                                                                                Air filled with sounds of horns and whistles, a baseball cracking off the tip of a bat,                                                                                               The shouts of children with laughter and glee, wonderment of all that.

Running after the ice cream truck with a ringing bell,                          Cones and Eskimo pies, and Popsicles as well.                                       Little girls secrets from boys they'll never tell,                                                                       Linen, crisp linen, good memories, and oh such a fresh smell.

The front yards had white picket fences and trellises with climbing Tea Roses,                                                                                              Bachelor Buttons, Daisies and Hollyhocks, sweet aromas filled our noses.                                                                                                                  Pansies and Tulips, hear the soft sounds of humming bees.                The back yards had bird houses posted to Willow, Oak, and Maple trees.

Robins and Bluebirds on branches hidden amongst the leaves,                                                                                                                                 And always clothes lines and clothes pins gripping white linen sheets waving in the breeze.                                                                                  Crisp white clean linens spreading out against the blue sky,                                          So many memories of wonderful times in my life gone by.

Author  Eileen Clark

Images:creeklinehouse.com

vintagehomeandgarden.blogspot.com

Fear In The Moonlight

The night is very dark with a slight summer breeze,
A shimmer of moon peeking through the branches of trees.
I hear another’s footsteps in the distance from behind,
Hopefully the owner is a person that’s very kind.

As I continue to walk further, a pounding in my heart,
The moon gets brighter as the clouds start to part.
I turn around as I hear the sound at a faster pace,
Gleefully I shout as the moon lights up my brothers face.

Author Eileen Clark 2015

Image: http://nature.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/979115/