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The Farm

 

 

window picture

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Farm life’s been replaced by sad memories,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.

c.d.m. 2010

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Uncle Filbert

VLUU L100, M100  / Samsung L100, M100

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

 

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the Rabbit Hole

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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

 

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Behind the Mask

smiley-8109312

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.

cdm 5/23/16

 

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Shaft’s Shadow

American tragedy

 

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.

cdm 3/25/16

 

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The Shallow End

wed. pink lillys 016

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.

c.d.m.  1/2/16

 

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Believe in Santa

 

santa-claus3

 

What’s wrong with believing in Santa Clause?
Or other sweet dreams of childhood?
I think if more grown-ups still held out hope;
for all of us it would be good.

There’s so much that’s harsh in this big old world;
dear Santa might soften things up.
Beginning with hearts that wrote Santa off;
when children turned into grown-ups.

See old hearts don’t shine with the Christmas light;
at least not like young hearts shine through.
I think grown-ups should believe in Santa,
may brighten us up if we do.

               c.d.m.12/18/13

Santa

 

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