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The Brass Ring
On a carousel I ride,
once around,
then around again.
A brass ring shines waiting,
my desire awakened by vision,
on a carousel I ride.
Four different brass rings seen,
on a carousel I ride.
Which brass ring do I see today?
On a carousel I ride,
once around,
then around again.
Passing by the brass ring
without a desire to grab
too busy with focus ahead,
was it there for me too?
Passing by the brass ring
I reach and reach again
my arm is too short to touch,
I see the brass ring
I cant grab, it’s too far away,
I am tired, I stop.
Passing by the brass ring
I reach once, I touch,
I grab the brass ring
On the carousel I ride,
once around and around again.
Passing by the brass ring
the brass ring I see,
on a carousel I ride.
I touch the brass ring,
It is there to have,
I leave behind, not today.
Whispers
In the quiet, can you hear?
Soft is a voice,
that speaks so clear.
Through the wind
a whisper travels,
touching our ears,
it soon unravels.
Walking along
in the still of the day,
I hear its voice
coming, my way.
“Let me speak
to you alone”
“I have a message here,
it is yours to own”
As I continue to hear my day,
there will always be a whisper
In a traveling way.
In My Mother’s Arms
I felt warmth
from the world outside,
feeling secure,
a place I never cried.
Standing tall
as a redwood tree,
stood my mother
holding on with me.
A gentle hand
held my head,
keeping me still,
as I slept in this bed.
Walking around
holding me close,
a place that I felt,
where I was safe the most.
In my mothers arms
a place so pure,
knowing it was her,
kept me secure.
Editor's Choice Award
August 2006
International Library of Poetry
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