Bottles

BOTTLES

 

Why shape them so?

What is it fills them?

Who is she fills them?

Has she a lover?

 Does he inspire?

  Does she have his faithfulness?

  Is it for him she fills the bottles?

  Is it for him she fills them full?

 

~

Rolling Hills

ROLLING HILLS

 

Oh yea I see those rolling hills

Pickets white and crossbeams gold

In fields I lay in dreams of you

Whilst summer breeze blows over me.


Oh yea I see those rolling hills

and ponds and creeks and daffodils.

White rabbit spurs the cattle’s cry,

in fright they scurry after night.


Outdoor grill my meals and cook

my coffee in the sun or in the rain

and drink from tin cups cleansed
in stream flows through the place.


Oh yea be there rolling hills

not in my dreams but in the now

when comes the morn I wake in scent
of meadow grasses lime and gold.


Oh yea come get me rolling hills

now, not later in my years whilst

still I live and breathe His gifts,
fulfill me now and breathe fresh life.


Oh yea you rolling hills

I beg you find me while my lust

yet rages, burns within me, will not quiet ‘til

the day your hilltop hammock sways me free.

 

Thanks

THANKS

Coarse his voice, manner gruff, carriage haughty,

Hands decade’s toil worn, cut, broken.

Dues overpaid yet sought no refund,

Accolades hard-earned never came,

And ’twas when no more he spoke

Then canard’s fodder, they would not mourn.