Broken Floor Boards

Art: Unknown (Information Could Be Helpful)

“You musn’t cry miss,
please don’t cry miss. I’ve saved for you a ration of my bread.”
“Its okay miss, I’ll stay by you miss.”
the words, the young boy said.

“My ma and pa, miss,
said with you, I musn’t speak,
it is war miss, it is war miss,
and you are the ones the uniforms seek.”

“I don’t care miss, I’ll bide my time miss,
I’ll be here for you anyway,
I’ll hide you miss, I’ll hide you,
‘neath the broken floor boards,
a small hollow in my room, miss, for you to safely stay.”

The siren sound,
the siren sound,
echoes through the emptying town.
A sad song, a sad song,
huddling close,
as planes crash down.

Years to pass, years to pass.
“Ma and pa, are gone.
Seems endless miss, seems endless miss,
the guns and suits still carry on.”

“I don’t care miss, I’ll bide my time miss,
I’ll be here for you anyway,
I’ll hide you miss, I’ll love you miss,
‘neath the broken floor boards,
a small hollow in my room,
if it need be miss, if it need be miss,
‘til my dying day.”

“The gunfire has ceased miss,
please take my hand miss,
hold it ‘til time for us comes to an end.
I’ll be here for you miss,
I’ll be here for you miss,
you are my love,
you are my friend.

Years to pass, years to pass,
calmer winds blowing through,
remembering, remembering.
when skies were darkened, destructive reign,
now clear, the days’ view.

“Hold my hand miss,
hold my hand miss, I’ll love you ‘til time’s end
She whispers, she whispers, “I’ve saved for you a ration, of sweet bread,
just for you my love, just for you, my friend.”

Magnetic Emotion

Pulled in between the positive and negative energies,
as the soul struggles to connect,
emotionally charged by the forces in a driven heart,
dreams, hopes, happiness, desires, faith, passion, loves,
the words, a magnet,
where all have met,
and in between,
the negative still seen,
yet the balance of what is to be,
all held in each energy.


The pull far stronger, far greater, of positive force,
to deflect the negative back upon itself,
and hold tightly, closer, to the more caring source.


Life, creating changes,
to bear witness to,
enduring pain,
heartaches, and it takes and it takes,
until the magnet turns,
the hearts force beating,
louder, stronger,
emotionally charged,
pushing the negative away,
the forces in a driven heart finding their way
pulled once again, turning toward the positive,
back to the dreams, the hopes, happiness, desires, faith, passion and loves,
where the words still remain,
emotionally charged, they still remain.

Like Photographs From the Past

Black and white,
caught in between contrast.
She stepped ahead into the white brush of leaves,
growth from the blackened soil.
Like photographs of the past.

A wisp of color as she moved ahead,
the softness of a pink rose, reaching to touch,
upon the thorns she bled.

A tear fell,
in the sharpness of this beauty,
as she grasped it with her hands,
as she looked around at her world void of color,
upon strange illuminated lands.

Another tear fell,
a splash of blue upon a leaf below,
she kneeled down to pick it up,
green started to grow.

She walked further ahead,
the flower held gently against her breast.
Her heart warmed in this precious discovery,
her spirit in search of more,
to calm her quest.

Soft yellow began to emerge in her surroundings,
an unusual joyful glow,
Blue rain began falling, from a blue sky,
and her heart followed a cascading rainbow.

These strange lands,
began to dance in orange sunset and purple clouds stretching far,
though a sharp awakening, needed to feel,
through her eyes, into her soul, she held love,
transcending into, forever looked upon in beauty,
a softly glowing star.

The Seedling, the Medallion, and the Thorn

He was but a young man, in need of much knowledge,
when he met upon her face, pouring out so much warmth,
her gown glowing, flowing white, dancing around her,
as if in song, fluttering as butterflies grace upon the meadows,
quietly, so quietly,
she whispered,
“You must take these three things with you upon your travels”
She handed him, a simple seedling, a shining gold medallion,,
and a thorn from the vines of a rose.
He asked, confused, “What could these be for?”
She whispered into his soul, “Your heart already knows.”
Her essence and beauty disappeared into the winds,
as they swirled leaves upon the breeze.
He folded the items carefully inside a kerchief
and placed them in his pocket.
The significance of these curious items, he was about to find.
He continued to reach a part of the earth,
with the air difficult to take in,
trees withering, brown dead grass, and in the middle of its depths,
the sounds of crying,
a mother holding her child.
“He has not the air to breathe.”
He silently removed his kerchief from his pocket,
and took the seedling out in his hands,
without hesitation, he planted them into the earth, as he kneeled beside them.
Her tears dampened the ground,
and quickly a plant emerged, sprouting leaves.
The heavy air surrounding them cleared,
a gasp of breath brought forth the young boy, renewing his life.
He continued on his travels,
coming to a village, rejoicing in festivities,
a woman adorned in clothing, of such a lady of the night.
She attempted to stir him in emotions, in lieu of trade,
she discovered the kerchief within his pocket.
His lonely heart, perhaps yearning, but not weak.
He turned her away, and continued.
Passing years, living the simple man’s life,
growing in much more knowledge.
He came upon his trousers, without hesitation, reached inside the pocket,
he found the gold medallion,
it had glistened brightly like the sun,
glowing as brightly as the flowing white that danced around her,
he remembered,
then remembered the thorn, and reached inside to grasp.
sharp as blood trickled. Quiet, so quiet.
He once again saw her face, such warmth.
She whispered into his soul, “Your heart already knows.”
Suddenly he was sitting upon the stool, realizing he had pricked his finger upon the needle,
his reality as a tailor, he took much care in the creations paying special attention, his fabric of love.
She placed a kiss upon his lips, the dress he had made for her, glowing, flowing white danced around her.
Outside his window, a young boy playing in the streets, healthy with his friends,
the breath of life, a tree, standing reaching into the clouds, surrounded in beauty of the earth.
He smiled upon her, as the medallion cascaded from her neck, gently touching upon her chest, close to her heart.
She placed her hand upon it, smiled upon him, and whispered “I love you” into his soul.

Stained Glass

You look past me, a window pane, transparent,
nearly invisible in your view,
but I contain much more than you realize,
stained glass, cascading colors in light rays of sky blue.


Every piece held close together,
unity illuminated in yellow fields reaching far
Emerald green, of forest beauty,
carrying brightness through the sun star.


The shards of glass, crackled, once broken,
merged together in their intended place,
a softened glow of peach peace,
the appearance of a face.


Flowing red, kissed of the hearts desires
the colors cascade dancing passionately in the light,
as the sun sets over the sky, touching gently orange,
the soul calming in deep purple, with the moon and stars glow in the night.


You look past me, a window pane, transparent,
nearly invisible to you,
but I am illuminated, in all the shards of glass, crackled once broken,
stained glass, cascading colors, far beyond your view.

Lava Flow

Under foot, the ground shakes, quakes,
rocks begin to tumble,
she runs, to gain ground,
trying not to stumble,
as the earth explodes,
in ash and lava flame,
in rivers of hot red anger,
and her tears fall, the ground cracks, in her name,
her heart racing wildly,
she screams out loud,
lightning strikes,
in heavy storm cloud,
she continues to run until she is out of breath,
loving much the same,
but it would not be her death.
Under foot, the ground, quiet and still,
rocks begin to cool,
she stops to think, to look upon the view,
tears began to pool,
the ground merged once again, where upon flowers grew.
The volcano became a mountain full of color in autumn leaves,
because love within her just believes.
with calmer waters flowing,
returning love much the same as hers,
somehow in the distance, a sense of knowing,
that the ground will only shake for so long, then cease,
the lightening will only strike for so long, then clouds break,
tears will only fall for so long, then dry,
kissing the storm goodbye,
love can give instead of just take,
and lava flow became a waterfall, as beautiful as true love could ever make.

Poetic Path of Undying Dreams

This path, this direction, through fields, twisted in thorny brush,
ancient ruins, carved of figures, loves, time passed, generations before me,
settling upon my soul, a sparrow, circling, landing upon my hand,
as I follow in heart, and write of these loves poetically.


I am moved backward in time, this path, this direction,
to times in unscathed earthen beds, of floral caress and the winds that carried it in heart,
long before mankind, long before battle, long before bloodshed,
to the beginning, this path, at the earth’s start.


I am moved forward in time, this path of sight in the nearing distant light,
to times where darkness is illuminated still with love,
yet likeness of stars scattered, struggling to still see them as clouds move through nightfall, tears fall,
and I follow in heart, and still of this love, I write of.


This path, this direction, through fields, twisted in thorny brush,
I stand in the present, with undying dreams, like vines climbing along the trees,
my poetic path grasps tightly, it will never be the death of a dream,
as my breath of life, will follow in spirit, in the wind, words, along the coming breeze.

A Weary Traveler

Frost settling upon the window glass,
crystallizing, as the night grew colder.
The fire crackling, warmth inside the old cabin,
as she pulled the soft cotton comforter over her shoulder.


She stared out the window as though awaiting something, someone,
that could somehow rescue her from this silent lonely, place.
She sipped from her cup the steamy hot cocoa, catching the aroma upon taste.
The flavor caressing her lips, a light smile upon her face.


Her hair still wet from the softness of a bath, fell upon her shoulders,
she arose from her chair, and removed a book from the shelf, and lit the lantern,
and began reading from the page she had marked,
a romance novel, shadowed by the flicker of light beside her, slow burn.


She whispered some of the words aloud,
as the lines of writing met upon her own heart.
She quietly closed the book and placed it upon the table beside her.
Perhaps this love of her own in her mind, could be worlds apart.


A knock came upon the door, a sense of urgency,
fast paced heartbeat, she collected herself, opening the door, cold air rushing through.
A weary traveler, an arm broken from a fall, requesting her help,
she let him in, to see what she could do.


His eyes, kind, thankful, yet so tired.
She let him rest upon the sofa, quietly watching him upon sleep,
as her eyes closed, drifting in dreams, yet again her love she would meet,
deep inside, passions stirring, her mind would keep.


He had awoken before her, tending the fire.
The smell of a freshly cooked breakfast and coffee,
smiling upon her, “I hoped you would not mind.”
His offer, she smiled back at him,
and life as she knew it, changed, and her book solemnly left for another heart to find.

Tears on Love's Lake

The wind, still, and quiet upon the heart.
The cool blue lake, motionless reflection.
A tear falls, the drop quietly hits the water,
creating a circle, that shimmers outward,
in endless movement,
in tranquil connection.



Many tears in long past years,
have filled this lake so serene,
stopping to quench a thirst in the summer heat,
to reflect upon where life has taken them,
a soft cry in the night,
washing the soul clean.



Upon one horizon the sun, upon the other the moon.
The cool lake becomes a painting in scenic view.
A tear falls, the drop quietly hits the water,
creating a circle, that shimmers outward,
in endless movement,
the tranquility surrounding the heart,
reflecting back to you.



Many years, long past tears,
have filled this lake in love
A tear falls, the drop quietly hits the water,
creating a circle, that shimmers outward,
in endless movement,
in tranquil connection,
then,
just then,
a smile,
reflecting above.

Dearest Heart, Dear Soul

Dearest heart, why must you break in tides on ocean currents,
fluid transparencies of life’s lonely epiphanies,
pulled into dreams on love’s moon gravities,
on thought seas.

Dear soul, you know the answer to the ever-flowing question,
because you remain afloat to still view the sky,
to still see the stars as they shoot by,
for your dreams, as they never die.

Dearest heart, why must you cloud my vision, in rains of tears,
flooded mind of life’s future ahead of me,
pulled into dreams of what love could be,
yet eyes awash, I cannot see.

Dear soul, you know the answer as it falls upon your heart,
because those clouds will open in sunlight waking,
giving in warmth, condensation of tears, of what life may be taking,
and it will flow on, repeating, for true heart, be it true love, in the making.

A Golden Glow

A golden glow, held in hands carrying it forth with care.
A whisper through the clouds,
followed him there.


A rainbow,
resting color glowing over a shoulder,
and yet seemingly unnoticed, warmed when days could not have been colder.


A wind,
spoke of beauty forthcoming in blossoming growth,
change,
still in the presence of a fading flower,
ironic yet not so strange.


A shadow, and a light cascading,
through crimson sky,
and yet not a question,
why.


A golden glow,
held in hands carrying it forth with care,
and love surrounded,
handing him his heart there.


And quietly,
a golden glow,
a rainbow,
a wind,
whispering through the clouds,
blossoming,
in a shadow,
light cascading,
beneath a crimson sky,
smiled upon him,
and disappeared into the golden heart,
he now carried, in his own hands.