Uncategorized – Wordsmith: At The Forge

Laugh with me

by brian francis

I always find it hard to watch you cry
It dulls that special twinkle in your eyes
It makes my heart so heavy every time
So please come laugh for me

I’ll trip and fall if it will make you laugh
Act stupid, wear the face of a psychopath
Anything you want of me just simply ask
Just please come laugh for me

I’ll try to always be that worthy man
The one you chose to love and take in hand
The one to see only perfection in you
Hold my hand and laugh with me

As together we watch the future pass
Bound as one to the very last
Hand in hand walking joyfully
If you’ll just laugh with me.

View original post

Conestoga Memories

      Conestoga Memories

Muddy watered river flows,
gently drifting its winding path.
Farms and orchards dip in their toes,
bounded by a margin of grass.

To cast my line into its depths,
watch the ripples grow in size.
Water bugs racing to and fro,
speckled sun - a water color sky.

No need for fish to break the spell
just draw it in and cast again.
Breathe in deep that fresh green smell,
a quiver, a strike; the long pole bends

The battle is on - though fierce it's brief,
a run a pull and reel it on in.
Released back into the river - set free;
prepare the hook, cast it again.

Corn fields shimmer with a gentle breeze
birds sing songs as old as the wind,
the lane nearby long and straight.
Just draw it in and cast again.

When waking from this long suffered dream.
being the old man that I never foresaw,
I am grateful for those days in the sun
where as a child I grew both strong and tall.

                 By brian francis

by brian francis

When winter lays her bounty white
Across the grassy knolls and meadows
Frosty winds blowing a shivering gale
Drift the shallows and fences high
Its harrowing voice a banshee wail

Spring breathes a warming breath
Stirs the sleeping potential hidden
To rise up to stand and budding bloom
To tempt the bees to visit caressing
From flower to flower bride to groom

In summer the nests sing and chirp
The flowers disappearing lost to fruit
Weighing the limbs to sag from drupe
The cornucopia of nature’s stunning gifts
Constant in nature a recurring loop

The harvest, fall’s generous gathering
The reward of the farmer’s long days
lowering of the sun from high in the sky
Cold winds start to blow a whispering wail
A prelude to winter’s harrowing cry

Broken Wing

By brian francis

I watch the sun rise, and pass on overhead,
And I see the others flying south again.
I wish that I could go, but I’ll stay here instead,
my broken wing and I fighting against the wind.

Winter is coming; the leaves are turning brown,
the nights are getting cooler, and darkness lingers on.
Low clouds on the horizon are telltale of the storm.
Whispers beckon in the wind coming from the north.

I feel it as it touches me, the cold, cold hands of fate.
I know that I can’t get away, so I’ll lay here and wait.
While on wings far overhead, the others pass me by,
Oh, how I want to join them, but my broken wing can’t fly.

Cold rain falls upon my back; cold wind blows in my face.
Soon the numbness touches me, then soon the light will fade.
Then I will cast away this shell, its broken wing and all,
To start on a new journey, I will fly into the sun…

Hold Her High

Questions from a hero’s grave
By brian francis

Oh say does that star spangled banner yet stand
Over a free and civilized land?
Does it still stand for justice for one and for all,
Or have they forgotten why heroes did fall?
Oh say does that star spangled banner still wave
Over a nation which hasn’t a slave?
Do they still look upon her with tears in their eyes
Or have they forgotten those first battle cries?
Oh say, can you tell me what the colors now mean?
Do they give her the honor that’s due to a queen?
Do they stand up and cheer her when she’s carried by
And what are their feelings when they see her fly?

Oh say does that star spangled banner yet stand
Over the nation the way it was planned?
Can you still see her flying wherever you go?
When the children look to her do their faces glow?
Oh say does that star spangled banner still wave
Over the heroes who lie in the grave?
And do they remember what she has withstood
In protecting our nation so free and so good?
Oh say can you tell me if you still hold her high?
Is she still the most beautiful flag in the sky?
Does she fly like an eagle and soar high above
As a symbol of liberty, freedom, and love?

Around the Flag

by brian francis

Rally round the flag now,
oh, rally once again,
on with the battle cry of freedom.
We have never knelt before
and we will not now again.
We’ll stand, strong, and proud,
and defeat them.

Let the enemy beware,
let him cower deep with fear,
The flag is the symbol that we follow.
Terror might beset us,
But never will we fear.
The threat might be deadly,
but it’s hollow.

Vengeance in the air
we will have our moment then,
as we act with the might of our union
We will rally round the flag,
and find our comfort there,
singing proudly, with conviction,
the cry of freedom.

Rally round the flag now,
oh, rally once again,
on with the battle cry of freedom.
We have never knelt before
and we will not now again.
We’ll stand, strong, and proud,
and defeat them.

Crack

By brian francis

Some people think it is all about the ball
the cue ball or the eight ball even the nine
while the ball is pool’s most numerous asset
it simply follows nature’s laws to exhaustion
It lays, it waits to receive its equal and opposite
its course laid in with a knock and a ricochet
it travels its path friction wearing it down
its trajectory always forward always true
So what is so special about all of that
What makes it so much better than felt

Felt’s hairy fingers grab and pull at the ball
slowing it, dragging at its progression
the field of felt, slates concealing dress
and bumpers wear felt its armor it seems
enduring even the severest of blows
without offering the merest contention
brushed just right it’s a beautiful thing
ordered, cleaned of the smallest deceit
a racks ready order, rolled to find the spot
to rise up and stand back for the break

A chalking in blue to add grip to the tip
and a sliding almost masturbation
angle selected the cue ball finds its spot
and rests waiting for its final direction
the cue lays itself in the crook of the hand
or on the crenellation of the knuckles
and engaging the stroke with precision
its strength with a crack strikes a blow
its goal in its sights it flies straight and true
into the rack, causing a mess of confusion

Around the Flag

by brian francis

Category: Uncategorized

Laugh with me

Conestoga Memories

Seasons Turn

Broken Wing

Hold Her High

Around the Flag

Crack

Around the Flag

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this:

You can do it: Share

Like this: