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Tired But Firm Gentle Hand Rocks The Cradle

by Walter Jones (Age: 67)
copyright 09-22-2004
Contest Winner


Age Rating: 7 +

My son comes to me in fear
Bad night mare I wipe a wayward tear
Love is strong in the day and the year
Old we walk guide only one not a team

Captured in the stop of a scream
Last of a time that is a lonely dream
Run the path leads to yesterday
No one left to hold only memories
Against the burn of a you and me

Rain comes out of thunder of day
Child leads to disease cuts like stay
It is the hope that lingers in the pay
But the journey continues to last


Years float so quickly past
Down a strong of commitment
Held by fire and drive in direction
Take the less traveled road to feel
Against the burn of a you and me

Every toil takes a task in the ride
Hearts lost to sad reluctance and pride
Every hope is kept neatly held inside
Run though I may all keeps me, I stay

Voices grow in the mist of play
One carries the load as the other
Seeks shelter each and every way
Pains of years build a harbor to see
Against the burn of a you and me

Death it is an outcome of life
Sharp the pain stabs like a knife
Strength is in the wind not the wife
Offers the gift of this world to be free



Old floats in the sea of lost tranquility
Looking for the goals that never could be
Dead lines for the aftermath of being free
Handle placed on a falling door drops
Against the burn of a you and me

A little hand reaches up for prize
Kept in place by a river of lies
In depth of the dream he still tries
Love is used a child is the pawn

Angels sing in the blessed dawn
Guiding the voice of all that is lived
Answers to a life on the verge of done
Kept the thread a while longer for someone
Against the burn of a you and me






Visitor Reads: 935
Total Reads: 969
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        05-23-2008     Anthony Lane Stahlhut        

Before reading the comments my thoughts were of a life that wasn't easy and one that was left alone. Sad story from life that happens more often than it should. Then I read the comments and I thought I must add my point of view on the work and author. The work was great as it had the painting there for you to see and it's story written so that it could form in your mind as you wanted it too! So many times I read things that are closed to interpretation. Walt always writes with an open flavor. His works are timeless and many can find the answers they need for their situations and that is what makes a great poem. As for form...the greatest form is what flows from your mind. How it is put on paper makes it readable, but the rawness sometimes lends to the feeling. I myself am not the best fan of free verse, but there are some writers that make masterpieces. Walt you are one of my favorites here. I come, leave and come back again, but your the rock. I pray to God that does not end ! Your friend and fan, Anthony

        05-16-2008     Wayne Thomas        

I promise not to write an essay, OK? When I first read this my general feeling was another long poem with a slightly forced style. But the more I read the more enamored I became of this piece, the stories, the ins and outs, the turns of phrase--at which you're always so good. At third turn, I'm impressed. Pretty good change of view, huh? Thanks, Walt.
Wayne

        05-13-2008     Susan Brown        

Had we not had the background history posted here, by the Author, I bet...a good percentage of us, would have been confused in several places (stanzas) during the process of reading this work.

I can now attach the meaning much clearer, thanks to the comments.

I should add...up until he changed the position of the players by adding words to include the entire board into the game (went global)...to present the idea better of all things...oh my, my, you lost me then. (my short attention-span-for holding the-images-the culprit-)

I encourage Authors (especially the advanced ones) to leave these comments for the rest of us to ponder. It helps...so much when gathering information for us on or in, a time-line frame.

Susan





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