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poetry
11/13/08
poetry
Love’s Blackness
Time was slowly passing by,
And the precious moments we shared,
Were spent quarreling beneath that black ceiling
We call home,
On that knitted quilt we call…our resting place,
In that cane field that was a place of growth [except for us].
Was it you or was it ME that stopped peace from flowing,
to get rid of the smoke that filled our tormented lives?
Or was it those people, who gossiped and talked of the women you had as your…mistresses?
Or, dear, was it just me?
Now you are gone in that black and dark night,
lonely,
With nothing.
Surely, you must be cold having no memory of a happy home, no taste of what really was love and peace…happiness.
Sorry, is such a small word to express my regrets.
But dear good bye…
though it’s hard to say.
That quilt that reminded me of our sweat,
Is not any more a quilt but a blanket with no
significance,
no meaning.
And now, I am as cold as it’s ever been and dear
That ceiling is still a dark one.
(Denise McDonald)
November, 12, 2008
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Three Ministers
Three ministers - a Presbyterian, a Methodist, and a Southern Baptist and their wives were all on a cruise together. A tidal wave came up and swamped the ship, and they all drowned. The next thing you know, they're standing before St.Peter.
As fate would have it, the first in line was the Presbyterian and his wife. St. Peter shook his head sadly and said, "I can't let you in. You were moral and upright, but you loved money too much. You loved it so much, you even married a woman named Penny."
St.Peter waved sadly, and poof! Down the chute to the 'Other Place' they went. Then came the Methodist. "Sorry, can't let you in either," said Saint Peter "You abstained from liquor and dancing and cards, but you loved food too much.
You loved food so much, you even married a woman named Candy!" Sadly, St. Peter waved again, and whang! Down the chute went the Methodists.
The Southern Baptist turned to his wife and whispered nervously, "It ain't looking good, Fanny."
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