Autumn Apple

The Autumn apple, crisp and tart or spicy crusty warm in pies to please the senses; touch the heart the nose the tongue the hungry eyes.

Summer's End

________________________________________ The clouds, in fury, gather and the wind begins to blow the summer from the land, but summer doesn’t want to go. An angry shout of thunder follows each new flash of pain. The weary earth is set upon by multitudes of rain. The knights of autumn fall on the retreating summer sun, and mists above the mourning tell the world that Fall has won.

In a Hand Basket

________________________________________ The bike is coasting down the lane the wheels go round and round, why am I in this basket and where is it that I’m bound? I take my chance, a leap of faith, then quickly to the farm to jump into her arms, again. I’m safe from further harm. Then off to walk the yellow road, adventures are in store. I think it’s safe to say we aren’t in Kansas anymore. This was inspired by a bumper sticker I saw.... it read, "Why am I in this hand basket, and where am I going?" and it just wouldn't go away until I wrote it. "If happy little bluebirds fly Beyond the rainbow, Why oh why can't I?"

Night and Day « on: Jun 14th, 2002, 12:33am » ________________________________________ Today is never good enough to keep; we long for the unreachable tomorrow. Perfection's in our hands and yet we weep until we've nothing left but perfect sorrow. We set our goals completely out of sight beyond the far horizons of a chance that we will have to step into the light and mount the stage of life to start the dance. For love and for the lack of love we've wept and, blinded by despair, we cannot see the world is filled with love we won't accept because we long for love that cannot be. And while our nights are begging life to stay... our days are busy pushing it away. W.D. Neighbors "And the day came, when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." - Anais Nin

If One

If you are gone and I am left or else the other way— if one is, of a love, bereft to face the break of day, then one heart wakes to God’s own light; the glorious unfurled, and one, the bitter end of night; a cold and lonely world. Which one of us will live alone? My love, what does it matter? With one name etched in marble stone the other’s heart will shatter. ~ © 2006 By: W.D. Neighbors ~

When?

When all our anger’s overturned and innocents are free at last from bloody sword and hellish burn, when war’s a relic of the past; when Man’s uncertain enmity presents, in breach, from evil’s womb and love becomes our legacy as Mars is sealed in Satan’s tomb, a marble, gilded monument, inscription etched with golden rhyme, will sing the dirge; the grim lament to chronicle, to rue the time-- when eyes beheld what souls abhor; when children slept in arms of war.