THIMBLE FULL OF DREAMS
SUNRISE IN AFGANISTAN
Sunrise in Afganistan a welcomed sight.
To children who barely sleep at night.
Bombs screamed and houses fell.
Sounds of wars ugly pure hell.
What is happening here?
This growing and crippling fear.
Will it one day just go away?
Or is it here forever to stay
.
It's not thunder rolling over the sands.
While I clutch to mothers quaking hand.
We live the same nightmare each night.
I wonder are we part of this fight.
What a high cost war does demand.
Paid with lives broken, naked and barren land.
Like the rubble left behind that day.
We have lived it so long, I've forgotten how to play.
By:MJones copyright 2009
To children who barely sleep at night.
Bombs screamed and houses fell.
Sounds of wars ugly pure hell.
What is happening here?
This growing and crippling fear.
Will it one day just go away?
Or is it here forever to stay
.
It's not thunder rolling over the sands.
While I clutch to mothers quaking hand.
We live the same nightmare each night.
I wonder are we part of this fight.
What a high cost war does demand.
Paid with lives broken, naked and barren land.
Like the rubble left behind that day.
We have lived it so long, I've forgotten how to play.
By:MJones copyright 2009
White Snake Empty
I toss my keys on the counter.
I see her as I take out the trash.
Inside: with the stale smell of curried yams
My fingers dial 911..
I look at her again and wonder,
What the coroner will say
When he finds that snowy white snake
Slithering through her veins.
Waiting, sipping my coffee,
Twisting the gold band on my finger,
I'm hungry, I fix a ham sandwich.
Stare at the needle and wait.
M.Jones copyright 2009
I see her as I take out the trash.
Inside: with the stale smell of curried yams
My fingers dial 911..
I look at her again and wonder,
What the coroner will say
When he finds that snowy white snake
Slithering through her veins.
Waiting, sipping my coffee,
Twisting the gold band on my finger,
I'm hungry, I fix a ham sandwich.
Stare at the needle and wait.
M.Jones copyright 2009
"UNCAGED RAGE"
Kneeling down, bucket and rag in hand.
Still feeling his last kick to the gut
She wears another black eye.
Lips are swollen, split open wide.
Battered and bruised, tears rolling down,
She listens to one of their favorite songs.
He sits in the corner,
his eyes dull, they should be closed.
He'll never beat her again.
She's stepped up to the plate.
With a bat in hand
She did not strike out.
Each break of the wrist
was followed through.
Now it is over, damage is done.
She hit a home run.
Scrubbing away at the pools of her rage.
Wringing out the red, in a bucket full of pain.
As it plays over inside her head.
But all that seems to matter is:
“It's going to stain.”
M.Jones Copyright 2010
