Not one iota of doubt
None more sure than I
Not one iota of doubt
None more sure than I
While driving a back road the other day
came across an old farm in sad decay.
I pulled off to the side to view the site.
Wonder how this farm fell into this plight.
Searching I pictured sites; from long ago.
The farmhouse was blanketed by the snow.
Smoke curled from the chimney by night and day.
Kids ignored the cold while busy at play.
Looked once again and saw Spring drawing nigh.
As play was replaced by chores by and by.
All hands were required to work the farm.
With each generation; farm life lost charm.
With summer came work from daylight to dark
and seldom a chance for a play-day lark.
A dip in the creek; seemed a rare treasure.
Life on a farm left small time for pleasure.
With Fall’s arrival came new work to do.
There’s meat and tators; to mention a few.
Cords of dry wood to stack neatly in rows.
Then stock the larder and fill the silos.
Winter comes to offer a brief repose.
Dad works on the books and Mama she sews.
Kids all enjoy; what seems a holiday.
Climbing the hill to ride down on a sleigh.
Each passing year the desire has waned.
“Jobs are in town,” all the children explained.
Venturing off they all leave one by one,
parents pass on and the farm; it is done.
Farm life’s been replaced by sad memories,
I thought as I sat there beneath the trees.
A life style forgotten and left behind.
One trip pass that farm brought this all to mind.
This is the saga of ‘Old Minnie’s’ farm,
the tale and estate are both humble.
Old clapboard cottage in dire need of paint,
and a barn roof ready to buckle.
The farm was the home of many a beast;
and while each had a story to tell.
Worn out Minnie had no time for fables;
for she saw to each tiresome detail.
The fields bore more thistle than timothy,
fertilizer is hard to disperse.
Yet without it the hayfield’s lie barren.
Near as barren as Old Minnie’s purse.
An ancient grey mare labored with Minnie,
to harvest what weeds they could gather.
Tansy by name; worked from morning to-night,
she too was in no mood for chatter.
Bertha the milk-cow produced every year.
Farmer Wesselhoeft loaned out his bull.
With boney old frame, and nearly bald hide,
she’d no time to gab with her mouth full.
The old sow Drucilla bore young each year,
and kept meat on poor Minnie’s table.
She’d shed a tear as her young disappeared,
slept at night in old Tansy’s stable.
The hens had each other for company,
there were far too many to mention.
When Minnie came gathering ‘offerings’,
they’d all cluck as they stood at attention.
Poor as the church mice and yet they survived,
at end of the day they had plenty.
For each had a place and each had a part,
working together as family.
I had a dream like
Martin Luther King.
Where I lived in a
My children could play
in the streets each day,
without fear from an
But the people slept
as base henchmen crept,
meant for our leaders.
Blind sheep awaken
retake our nation,
cause right now we’re just
tax paying breeders.
It ought not to be
that our citizenry,
has little to do
for our protection.
That criminals walk
since the dead can’t talk,
and lawyers practice
Come hell or high waters
words easy to say
much harder to live by
I find more each day
I swear I’ll forget you
start over again
Come hell or high waters
you haunt me old friend.
By day I watch over
my thoughts cause I can
when dream time takes over
you put forth your hand.
This life I am living
seems empty and bare
I look for you each time
I go any where.
I want to forget you
deep down in my heart.
Come hell or high waters
we’re never apart.
When the bucket is empty
and the well has run dry
which way shall we all turn and
to Whom shall we then cry?
Denying the evidence
of the Creator’s hand
we’ve bartered and borrowed we
refuse to understand.
That every good thing must
some day come to an end
We can try to ignore it
as we try to pretend.
That this life will just go on
and that nothing will change
that there’s always tomorrow
and death we’ll shortchange.
Then life’s bucket is empty
and our well has run dry
if we call out to Jesus
He will always reply.
If you would just once reach out
to touch me tenderly
the change of heart between us
would know no boundaries.
A womans heart will respond
much like a moth to light
it’s not in gifts and flowers
but love the flame ignites.
A whisper softly spoken
brings down the strongest wall
a females heart will open
like a spring parasol.
Much like a willow draping
across a peaceful lake
a gentle voice will reach her
and your wife’s love awake.
cheryl davis miller 9/26/17
Listen to the tale of ‘Blackheart McCain’
who danced on the graves of Vietnam’s slain.
Never believed tho they called him Songbird
a suffering captives the tale I’d heard.
Spent my whole life thinking him a great man,
served US with honor during Vietnam.
Voted for him I’m ashamed now to say,
he’s shown his ‘black heart’ to US all today.
Guess it has all been for money and fame
this lifetime pursuit of Blackheart McCain.
It tells on his face, tho he shows no shame,
he’s serves but himself this Blackheart McCain.
Cheryl Davis Miller 9/ 22/17
Why is it you don’t think of me
while I so often think of you
You haunt my dreams and fill my days
with wishes, never yet come true.
I watch for you when I’m in town
while hoping to catch just a glance
to see your eyes and volumes speak
to you of whispers of romance.
I can’t forget the slightest touch
that we shared oh so long ago
excepting rules we never moved
as passions winds on us would blow.
I never spoke and nor did you
the moment seemed to slip away.
Yet still you’re there between my breasts
you haunt my dreams and fill my days.
A shudder running up my spine
without reason nor any rhyme
a constant process I confess
reminder of my loneliness.
Where are the answers I once knew
where are the friendships I thought true?
Hands to hold, and ears to listen
just be there, a simple mission.
As I have been in seasons past
to comfort, console, act steadfast
to seek for explanations,’ why? ‘
to tend the wounds and balm apply.
This loneliness I cannot bear
I’m reaching out, no one is there
so I begin to then withdraw
attempting to become so small
I don’t feel loneliness at all.
cheryl davis miller 6/23/17
He traced her face, looked in her eyes
and kissed her bruise away.
Gave her broken heart a kick-start,
abused her some might say,
But you don’t know what loneliness
the broken soul must face,
so don’t despise the man she found
her sadness to displace.
Lord do You still hear us sinners
in dark depravity?
Is there yet forgiveness for
those longing to be free?
Death by a thousand nicks
none too deep or long.
A whisper in back rooms
dark plan all along.
Swarms of flies descend with
chaos on their wings
to spread decay and stench
base of Left leanings.
Like buzzards circling
waiting to devour
the carcass on the ground
thinking dinner hour.
Hear me; oh driven swarms
take heed to this word.
Flies lifespan isn’t long
have you never heard?
There high upon the wind-swept hill
beneath a warm spring sky,
We promised there on top the rocks
our love would never die.
With God alone to witness us
we made our vows that day,
we had no need of others to
hear what we had to say.
We swore to one another that
our love was all we’d need
to overcome life’s trials and
in all things to succeed.
“Time In A Bottle”, was our song
the essence of our heart.
There on the hills we never dreamed
that one day we would part.
I walked away sorry to say
much to my sad regret.
Now forty-two years later love,
I still cannot forget.
Your passing is the only cause
that I have not returned,
to my sweet West Virginia boy
for whom I’ve always yearned.
cheryl davis miller 5/1/17
If I could look in your dark eyes again
I’d never again look away.
I’d watch as the sun chased the stars and moon.
I’d watch forever and a day.
Be careful of the dark swamp
oh Mister President.
Of gators neath the surface,
for they Sir, are hell bent.
To grab and pull you under
in a horrid death roll,
while masking their intentions,
and blackness of their soul.
Smiling through lying lips
with words you want to hear,
seek to get into your head
to whisper in your ear.
“We know the way you should go
so soften up your stance;
we know the ropes, follow us
your one and only chance.”
Beware the swamps dark creatures
gators, snakes and quicksand,
designed to halt your progress
then steal a Leaders stand.
Recall the words you’ve spoken
you heard US; we heard you.
Seek God alone for guidance
do what you said you’d do.
cheryl davis miller 12/7/16
They all travel in Lockstep agreement
media and; corrupt politicians.
All the while they’re in Lockstep agreement
beat US down with their liberal doctrines.
Such foul corruption never viewed by man
in every office of our government;
so bad it’s left a foul smell in the air
as poisons rots and corruptions foment.
Who can we trust the little people cry?
Not our President nor the F.B.I.
Not dirty Land Grabbers out in the west
who killed a citizen, for the conquest.
Expect no Justice from the D.O.J.
she met with Clinton, on the plane’s runway.
Lockstep smiles and say’s, “no harm; and no foul.”
Lady Justice they plan, to disembowel.
They bring to memory; the Fatherland
thought they were right, but did not understand;
when powers rule us with an Ironhand
the crushing blows we can never withstand.
Yet they gather in Lockstep agreement
Wikileaks report, receives no statement
Hide corruption, and misguide public view,
do anything to push Hillary through.
cheryl davis miller 10/28/16
Why is it you would want to hear
the music of my death cry?
You of all people have to know
that sound means, I will soon die.
Yet you taunt me on and on to
come sing you a lullaby.
The only question in my heart
is but to ask you why. Why?
You’ve known my weakness and my strength;
faults and all you’d not decry.
Yet now you bury your knife deep
I sing to you my goodbye..
cheryl davis miller 10/18/16
picture courtesy of ; Terri Jeans Photography, Nelsonville Ohio
I once had an uncle Filbert
part of the family
He loved to bounce us children
upon his bony knee.
He’d rub his chin against our necks
to give us a beard burn.
We’d run and hide to get away
let someone take our turn.
We all thought it was innocent
though never thought it fun.
Until our Daddy caught him and
then shot him with his gun.
So I never cared for filberts
preferred a hazelnut.
Cause see my Uncle Filbert had
thought me his favorite.
cheryl davis miller 10/15/16
The upsetting of the apple cart,
feared by both sides of the aisle.
Total eclipse of what I’ve held to,
both sides are revealed to be vile.
Who can we look to for honesty
for substance to lend us credence?
When the highest court in all the land
shows an unjust weight and balance.
No one in Washington desires change,
they love the deception at court.
Portraying a facade of factions
they truly just ‘themselves’ support.
We’re on our own if Hillary wins,
because all will remain the same.
Both sides of the aisle serving self,
representing US only in name.
So look at the apples neatly stacked
but there won’t be any for you.
Only the crooked ones at the top
will partake of the revenue.
Cheryl Davis Miller 10/14/16
I think that I shall never see
this world the same politically,
Trump thought he spoke just guy to guy
not a pussified democrat spy.
Lo and behold now Hillary
says she wants no wall to protect me.
It’s not just me but you all too,
no borders for the Red, White and Blue.
That matters not, bad words were spoke.
I tell you it is a freaking joke!
Those words are spoke time and again;
Trump thought that Billy Bush was a friend.
So ladies tell me “What think you?”
Bad words or rapist, we must purview.*
A harsh cold world that we live in;
so you throw the stone, ones without sin.
*‘social taboos meant that little information
was likely to come within the purview of women generally’
[ We’ve come a long way baby,
but this might give us the vapors]
Cheryl Davis Miller 10/8/2016
Obama’s walking in; like Steve Martin,
as he once played “a wild and crazy guy”
Kerry joins the fray, with Botox display
wishes simply to Obama’s will, comply.
Lynch bends the law to set Hillary free
makes a joke of the law we all obey.
This group riddled the law; to screw us all.
Round’s out this motley crew with James Comey.
Huma Aberdeen, an Iranian,
I’m sure she has our interests at heart.
Valerie Jarrett too, the Whitehouse shrew
wants the constitution law to depart.
Who will free us from the traitorous clan,
and then raise ‘Old Glory’ high once again?
You and I my friend, this message we send;
only Trump will defend the working man.
Hear their half-filled screams, the elite mainstreams,
as they mock and call us deplorable?
But there’s coming a day, they all will say;
” Well I guess a Trump win, was feasible.”
Cheryl Davis Miller 9 /21 /16
Another one slipped down the ‘rabbit hole’
a victim of modern-day plague.
Of sorrow pain and self medication
to escape; to the scape of the vague.
Gone without a word; of explanation
lost to us here in, this earthly realm.
She was gone many years prior to death
since life first began to overwhelm.
No time left for goodbyes, spoken to you
nor even one more ‘You will be missed.’
No chance for a hug, or a memory,
such as when your sweet cheek, I last kissed.
Please children stay clear of the ‘rabbit hole,’
for no comfort will you find down there.
Just sorrow for those that you leave behind,
as you fall for the enemies snare.
Cheryl Davis Miller 9/18/16
Oh Deplorable me; so say’s Hillary.
beyond all hope or redemption.
I find it so rich, such a crime ridden witch
even knows redemption’s, a word.
Oh unmovable me, take that Hillary
your rant got you bad attention.
Friends are starting to snitch; ‘word that rhymes with witch.’
More than half the nation’s been slurred.
Cheryl Davis Miller 9/11/16
Right out here in ‘the middle’ of
this wonderful country.
There is a whole lot of people
that think a lot like me.
Like; we think we ought to matter
and even have some say,
concerning what goes on here in
the good old USA.
Were the ones that pay the taxes
and provide charities.
Backbone of the nation pays
the politicians fees.
Yet were the last ones considered
or even to be heard
In fact we are never mentioned
unless we’re being slurred.
They like to call us backwards or
suggest we are in-bred,
to mock our God and weapons then
say we have been misled.
They truly are high-minded those
that dwell beside the sea.
Discounting all the middle land
that’s you and it is me!
Now Hillary accuses us
ev’ry kind of ‘ism’.
They are walling off the middle
accusing us of schism.
Wake up out there in ‘middle land’
and let your voice be heard.
Before it’s just East coast and West
the middle just a byword.
Cheryl Davis Miller 9/10/16
I planted a garden
a thing of beauty.
Each plant placed with forethought
and love tenderly.
I watered and pruned it
fed it cautiously.
Carefully arranged my
One day it had grown to
It was time to un-robe
my thing of beauty.
So long I’d tended it
down on bended knee.
When finished there were none
to view it with me.
I realized sadly
my garden’s true fee;
had taken my whole life
and left me lonely.
A gardens for sharing
with one’s family;
else there are none to view
your work of beauty.
c.d.m. 6 / 5/ 16
I hide behind a plastic smile
and try to cheerful be.
I never take my mask off
lest you my soul should see.
I practice the stiff upper lip
not to deceive nor harm
but playing stoic is an act
my one and only charm.
So please don’t be offended if
my smile come’s off lame
this plastic smile’s all I have
depression is to blame.
My cousin built a porch for me
she built it in one day.
Simply to make me smile’s what
her actions seemed to say.
She measured, sawed and leveled it
then nailed it safe and snug.
She gave a whole day of her life,
all for a cousin’s hug.
I haven’t seen her for some time
I miss her you may guess.
But ev’ry time I see my porch
her memory I bless.
The GOP is questioning
what’s happening to our base?
Why do they choose an outsider
for this presidential race?
Where do I begin to tell you
what has brought us to this place
that many think it’s far past time;
the Grand old Party’s replaced.
We worked and prayed and gave money
gained the senate and the house.
Expecting now the promises
we would finally espouse.
We watched the sessions on the floor
one and all with bated breath.
Only to see our hopes dashed as
you trampled them all to death.
You expect a lifetime payment
and seldom show up to work.
Allow the passing of pork bills
your duty to us you shirk.
“Just work and pay your taxes, for
you know we represent you.”
You really think us all stupid,
believing what you say’s true.
Hey, there is a strange wind blowing
can you hear the roaring sound?
The heartland is awakening
to Washington we are bound.
To deliver a message of
our raw disgust and outrage,
to let you know once and for all
it is time to turn the page.
Attempts walking in the shadow
of a man known as ‘Shaft’
epitome of cool from the;
old-time seventies draft.
To cool to ever bother with
an Isis massacre.
So even human decency
to underlings defer.
So he’ll wave along with Raoul
while at the baseball game;
then take both planes to Argentine
poor people bear the blame.
It’s their ‘heat source’ and way of life
causing global warming.
Not private jets two at a time
nor excessive blabbing.
Nero played while Rome was burning
not so in Chicago;
no time to learn an instrument
tries dancing the Tango.
So all of these examples are
aimed to display his cool.
Sorry Mister Obama to
poor folks you play the fool.
In the winding wood’s of Carolina;
There on pathway’s up and down.
Nestled neath the pines and green fronds.
He said our bodies would be found.
One hand held a pint of moonshine.
The other bore a twenty-two.
Hours of marching as he taunted.
His threats had always proven true.
He needed no excuse for madness.
His madness came and went with time.
A word, a look, or passing fancy.
There seemed no reason nor any rhyme.
Mother hid me behind her body.
Staying between he and I.
Saying,”Kill me if you must kill someone,
she’s just thirteen and too young to die.”
I walked pretending I was elsewhere.
Crying prayer’s out silently.
Knowing if he killed my Mother.
He’d turn the gun and then kill me.
Then just as quickly as it started;
He’d proved his point and he was done.
Said,” Let’s get home and fix some supper.”
Went to the truck and slid away the gun.
You wonder why I’m most times weary.
Or seem to write from some dark place.
This is just a page out of my history.
Once touched by madness; it leaves a trace.
[46 years after the fact]
What would you do for a Klondike bar?
Or the equivalent of the day?
I guess it depends on ‘who’ you ask,
and whoever is at the soiree.
Dennis Rodman is one such fellow,
flew to North Korea on a lark.
Came back with praise for kim Jong-un, not
people die to feed that fat monarch.
Sean Penn for the sake of relevance,
ran down to love on Hugo Chaves.
Now he’s holding hands with el Chapo,
he’d do anything to get some press.
Now the case of Angela’s minions,
millions she’s let enter Germany.
They cover up the rapes of women,
seems politics trump people to me.
Now for the worst case; of Obama
his only concern; his legacy.
He wants to bring his minions here now,
to take our guns, and let them run free.
Bad news could get worse; I hate to say
worse would be ‘President’, Hillary.
We’d not have a chance of survival;
‘tween the minions, and first dude ‘Billy.’
In a world turned upside down
where victims are forgotten.
Series crusade criminals
and justice has no patron.
How could we be so callous
to believe this; to be right?
A murderers defended,
we forget the victim’s plight.
In a world turned upside down.
where eleven hours seem hard.
Explain that to those victims
of a thirteen hour bombard.
This world needs to be righted
so remember that this fall,
vote for those who’ll try to get
Humpty Dumpty ON the wall.
to be continued,,
I sought you out in the shallow end
you do not wade out in the deep.
You seek today for a plastic friend
to come and go; not one to keep.
You bare a painted on, smile these days
it fools those passing through your life.
Casual acquaintance one and all
none caring your heart’s rife with strife.
Each looking for a jolly time which,
your opaque shell; can now reflect.
With none watching how a crack has formed
your heart laid bare, your soul unchecked.
A shallow pool you’ve chosen to swim
thinking your safe from pain and harm.
Taking no note of those floating by
shallow deceit, waits to disarm.
Well the dogs have begun to fight amongst themselves
it’s a sight for the nation to behold.
Al Sharpton’s going after Rahm Emanuel
that’s like the pot thinking it’s; made of gold.
Double opportunists wrestling for the main stage
neither knowing; the theaters on fire.
They have used and abused, this nation all along
only concern was; what they could acquire.
It’s only the beginning; watch and see what’s next
they’ll find we’re not as stupid as they thought.
They’ve been the fox in the henhouse many years now;
but surprise! That old fox has now been caught!
I predict the pendulum is just about to swing
they’ve pushed us ’bout as far as we can go.
The ‘left’ is gonna have a rude awakening.
Grab a seat, and sit back and watch the show.
Have you found yourself confined by
unseen walls of your own device?
Needing freed from block and mortar
pressing more each day like a vise.
Thinking another’s created
the cell you now find yourself in.
Then comes the realization
your cells design flowed from within.
The first course set to repel pain,
another to block out despair.
Layers rise higher and higher
protection becoming a snare.
Building your tower of freedom
from pain, disappointment and strife;
somehow not realizing, that
your walls also kept you from life.
Now safe within the walls you hear;
the voices of old enemies.
All walled up, right there beside you
and that’s where they’ll always be.
We have no confidence in you;
Madame ‘would be’ president.
You’ve lied and forced yourself on us
and that was, without consent.
You covered up Benghazi for
just a chance to run once more;
without a thought for the lives lost.
You are rotten to the core!
You had the nerve to ask of us,
“What difference does it make?”
Dancing around the questions asked,
as regret you tried to fake.
Since I was a child I’ve watched,
you manipulate the crowd.
Declaring ‘Billy’s innocence,
dared to hold your head up proud.
Throwing his victims ‘neath the bus
so your wheels could get traction.
I mention a few charges and;
this is a tiny fraction.
You lied about the e-mails that,
told of your heartless neglect.
Now you would insult us all by
denying our intellect.
I hope you’re stripped of dignity
if you ever had a shred;
and pay the price for years of lies,
and Benghazi’s vile bloodshed.
‘You cannot take the other’s place’
words I once spoke in haste.
Now that your gone, I find I wish
those words I could replace.
I hope somehow, somewhere out there
that you hear what I say.
Your place cannot be taken and
I’ll miss you ev’ry day.
I’ve learned a vital lesson; one
I hope not to forget.
Life’s short we must watch what we say,
so we won’t have regret.
The dangers of the black abyss
objects; unseen, unheard.
Can hinder footing in the dark
amidst the waste cluttered.
For whirling there in blackness are
the pain of years gone by;
generational waste, passed to
the next one as they die.
So on and on the starved black hole
consumes more life each day,
and those trapped in the vast wasteland
become no more than prey.
There are no cries heard from that void
the darkness ate their voice.
imploding into emptiness
without knowledge of choice.
One can’t fill the black abyss’
for into self it draws and draws
to feed the beast’s belly.
Yet Light has come and reached out to
all those trapped by this beast.
From darkness you can reach out and
from blackness be released.
What would you have done differently,
had you known yesterday?
What memories would you have made
and what words would you say?
In all the worlds blessings there’s
one thing truly sublime;
the most precious commodity
a moment of your time.
Time is here and then it’s gone and
it won’t return again.
So if you truly love someone,
then give time to your friend.
cdm 12/ 15/ 15
What part of ‘Don’t Tread upon Us,’
do you refuse to understand?
Why do you think you can treat us;
with such a cruel and heavy hand?
How do you, fail to comprehend
that we are the crucial, backbone?
Without us; you’re a big nothing
and that’s a nothing, all alone.
Don’t you recall, old Boston’s port?
What we did; as a last resort.
We spoke out very loud and clear,
‘You can’t rule us from over there!’
You do the same as old KIng George;
taking our tax, with no reward.
Think you share in; his mind’s disease.
Dismiss, distance and disregard.
We’ve voted left, and voted right,
expecting ‘change’ to bring us some.
Still we receive, the same old same
you eat as Kings; we get the crumb.
Our backs can’t carry burdens more,
welfare, immigrants, working poor.
Plus keep YOU in your castles grand,
we’re speaking; you don’t understand!
cdm 12/ 12/ 15
Cool McCool meandered out on the stage
declared, ‘America has turned a page!
I will give you things, you have never had.’
What he failed to say was this; ‘All Things Bad.’
If he opened his mouth, a lie flew out.
On America’s faith, he would sow doubt.
Declaring right is wrong; and up is down.
The mesmerized crowd never made a sound.
Eventually bad things come to an end.
As lies were exposed, folks couldn’t pretend.
They saw that ‘Cool McCool’ was just a sham.
That ‘Hope and Change’ was a horrible scam.
When they beheld the King’s, naked behind,
they felt like fools, how had they been so blind?
Should’ve seen he was a joke, from the start,
not let false accusations, blind their heart.
Cool like Sammy Davis, or Steve McQueen,
the naked King for all the world would preen.
A tomato hit him, at center stage,
then he saw the blind fools were in a rage.
Cool McCool’s reign, came to a ‘hopeless’ end
as into despair his soul would descend.
Leaving the castle, he could not dispel;
that Nixon received a kinder farewell.
You sit in your ivory tower
looking down on the rest of us.
Declaring how ‘God is useless’ and
our faith somehow proves it is thus.
Trying to blame the working man for
the chaos the liberals chose.
Telling the world God won’t answer prayer
‘gun control’ will answer all woes.
Believing yourselves superior
thus you mock us from your front-page.
When you go down the drain as others;
perhaps then you’ll grasp our outrage.
Your tower won’t be so pretty when
the terrorists get through with you.
Don’t ask us to pray or grab our guns,
we’re too stupid to know what to do.
You cannot appease a bully
so please folks accept this fact.
Can’t change the mind of terrorists,
with satan they’ve made a pact.
They only live; to kill and die
to maim and destroy as well.
You cannot reason with madness
that flows from the pits of hell.
Call it simple work place anger
from bias, et cetera.
Blame it on, America’s guns
not far left Islam’s dogma.
You cowards with evil intent
want a one world government.
You think to dis-arm us,
cause you cannot charm us.
You think us all malcontents.
So wake up America; there’s
an enemy in our midst.
Try’s to deceive, make us believe
it’s not an Islamic blitz.
When left out on the streets alone
Lord, you were always there.
When no one else was listening
with You Lord, I could share.
Sometimes I leave that girl behind
forget how life was then.
When I felt oh so lonely and
You were my only Friend.
I want to thank You one more time
before I lapse once more,
my faithful Friend, Who took my hand
and changed me evermore.
Oh Jerusalem, how oft I would have gathered you as a hen gathers her chicks.
[ words of Jesus]
Strange how the mind can trick us to
believe deceit and lies.
Excusing the offenders when
the truth we realize.
I guess believing more lies seems
to ease the pain we feel.
Cause ‘La-la Land’ is kinder than
the cold hard truth that’s real.
I guess you meant more to me then
I ever meant to you.
To face that cold reality
is what I must now do.
It won’t be easy, I know that
I’ve tried for years I vow,
that I am leaving ‘La-la Land’
my journey begins now.
If we lived in a gentler time
my words would kinder be.
The harshness of terrain these days
can get the best of me.
So please excuse the coarseness of
my language now and then,
I only mean to speak my mind
and never to offend.
The writing lets the steam off so
I don’t explode; for real!
Believe me I hold most inside
else volumes I would fill.
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"And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32
THE BEST OF POETRY
MEDIA, PROJECTS, AND DREAMS FOR A BETTER WORLD
Pictures and poetry...by Connetta jean
Pictures and poetry by Connetta Jean
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