The Black Iron Gate

In this quite garden alone I do sit                                                                           Hoping friends will drop by for a visit                                                                               Warmth from the sun, softness of breeze                                                                          The squeak of my gate would surely please

Seedlings floating by brushing my cheek                                                                           A near perfect day but for one thing I seek                                                                       Wanting to hear a squeak from my iron gate                                                                      Hearing someone say, I'm so sorry we're late

I try very hard to keep a smile on my face                                                                            In my minds eye I can go almost any place                                                                     Climbing mountains, wading through brooks                                                                           My adventures come from reading many books

Day nearing it's end, nothing more I can say                                                                            The black iron gate didn't squeak open today                                                                            Tomorrow the sun is definitely going to shine                                                                       Going out when it's nice folks are more inclined

Author Eileen Clark 2011

From the author, this poem is not about me.

Image fineartamerica.com

The Clock

I heard my Mother say last night
The clock is running fast
This puzzled me cause there it stood
Just where I'd seen it last
She also said "it broke a hand
in falling on it's face"
This puzzled me still more because
It didn't show a trace
Of hand or foot or anything
Alive that I could see
The things my Mother says at times
Are odd as odd could be

Author Vere Dargan

One of my favorite poems in the books my mom read from to my two brothers and me. The New Wonder World 1939

I Need My Coffee!

Get out of my way, please get out of my way
I haven’t had my hot cup of coffee today
Sand in my eyes, cobwebs on my face
If you want to live, get out of my space
                                     *
Haven’t brushed my teeth nor used a wash cloth
What I need right now is cream and bean broth
Looked in the cabinet, the refrigerator, and drawer
Nothing no where, never been in this situation before
                                       *
My eyes popping out and my ears are turning green
Toe nails curling up and I think I’m gonna scream
You ask what can you do, well you can either pray
Or quick, you can get me to the nearest coffee cafe’

Author Eileen Clark

Image:https://www.dreamstime.com/stock-illustration-secretary-stressed-cartoon-illustration-image72420691