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General Poetry Three
By LivingFaith
   
Concert Under Glass
A north wind blows beneath the setting sun, wisping
the days memories away, rose petals have fallen, the
mind reaches to touch the velvet tips, honeysuckles
whisper aromas in melody.
Across the way, a soft warm glow from the oak
logs burning, brings an aire of pleasantry to the
room, as the violin plays softly, enhancing the
chanting Italian love songs, capturing the soul.
And the trees sway in rthymn, as the symphony
continues, caressing the heart in number, we turn
to slumber and dreams silently echo the silvery
tones that have touched our inner beings.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
The Silent Voice
Sunlight wakes a new day, misty
bluegrass dances, yesteryear has
faded, pausing beneath the apple
trees, gazing toward the orchard,
echoes of peace encumber the soul.
Renewed freedom, untainted joy,
spirit flys free, long lost inner
dreams come alive, softly murmurs
melodies, faintly smiles, pondering
these abandoned hopes.
Walking beside the brook, the grove
sits in splendor, feathered friend
serenades, chipmunk nib'bles on
life's bouquet, bathed in beauty,
she perches on the riverside,
suckling mother earth.
For today will be remembered, the
stream motionless whispering silent
shadows, paper and pen in hand, a
joyful journey begins, past, preaent,
and future reflections, upspoken
word, a poet is born.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Whispering Waters
Trailing the catwalk, that leads to the pier,
listening to the waters, as her cool breeze blows,
spraying serene waves.
A light sprinkle touches the heart, with
echoes of sea shells, now dancing on the
oceans soft warm sand.
Barefoot, feeling the dust upon the soul,
music from the tide's orchestra, aromas
to enhance the wakening truth to life.
A river, powder blue, flows from every
heart, tendered by nature's wreath, if we
only bend to our freewill.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Web Of Life
Passing beyond her prime, never having found
love, pondering what lays ahead, dreams of a
romancing spirit, the night is cold, and a walk
outside sends a chill down the spine, a tingling,
an eerie sound, as tree branches brush together
with the howling wind, an empty lonely feeling,
locked deep within the soul.
Existing, but having no will to try, and now
too tired too care, wishing for a forbidden place
in the sun, allowing the tears to flow freely, from
this bleeding heart, as once again life weaves her
tangled web, snagging the very essence from me,
leaving only lost hopes and fear of being
forever alone.
Do rainbows really lay beyond this gloom,
will the sun shine tomorrow, are the stars
still sparkling in the sky, waiting and
hoping for happiness to come, and yet,
it seems an invisable dream.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Jeannie
When the wind blows, we can
hear secrets of long ago.
When the birds sing, we can
sing back our childhood.
We have gone through life,
seen the roses and the thorns.
Times would never have been
the same without you.
True friends are hard to find,
thank you for being mine.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Once Loved
Nightfall!, the blossams sleep!
Love has faded, like a new moon,
velvet and placid, covered by clouds.
Overtaken by night, motionless and
forlorn'd, the constant lonliness,
lingers until morning.
Then Sunrise!, roselight and gold
shadows, love appears, fervent as
the peaceful flow of the river.
Will he remain past the weekday,
or sail away, like a sailor at sea,
no longer remembering love.
We await as odd-born quadruplets,
the sun, the morning light, my
callow'd love and I.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Tender Thoughts
We are never alone when
surrounded by a loving family,
even in our lowest moments, gentle
thoughts 'cross our minds, filling
our hearts with beauty in song, and
tenderness caresses our souls.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Forgotten Dreams
Morning blooms begin to fade, as the sky turns
ash-gray, a mirrors reflection shows silver hair,
and melancholy nurtures the spirit.
This glowing essence once suckled pleasantly the
tender years, now the memories have disapated,
lovely dreams, suspended in time.
Will the buds come alive again, sending aromas
to the soul, leaving sorrow behind, to dwell in
another time, other than mind.
Ah, behold this gentle life unfolds, romancing the
heart with magic, for beyond a crystal sea, an
aging angel, is christened in golden crowns of love.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
A Blessed Aunt
For My Aunt Lorene
You were special to me, as my
mother, in a way, always listening
without criticizing, guiding with love,
as a guardian angel, to light the path,
making each day new, roses, butterflies,
and morning dew, these are the things
I see, when I think of you.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Colorful Silence
Silence brings a day of beauty,
for;
In the silence, the sky speaks,
with her blue hues.
In the silence, the wind speaks,
whispering aromas.
In the silence, the clouds speak,
with pure white images.
In the silence, the sun speaks,
lighting the way.
In the silence, the trees speak,
with swaying fingers.
In the silence, the birds speak,
chirping their lullabys.
In the silence, the soul speaks,
of wants and desires.
And so, ends the silent day.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
To Linda, My Dearest Cousin
Life was full of curiousity,
crazy kids on a roller coaster.
We saw the tides turn in, rode
the waves without fear.
Now we've grown older,
can stand and proclaim,
we made it!!
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Beauty's Age
For My Granny
Fraile Body's silhouette upon the window pane.
Orchid Lavenders enhance the fragrance of
Life's Bouquet.
A wheeled chair, upholds the feeble one, sunken
and absorbed by hollows of the mind, legacies no
longer pacify this weary soul.
Reminiscence becomes a mirage upon the naked
wall, journeys continue, callow green has past
this portal.
Dim reflections of childhood seen beyond
rainbows in the sky, magical, diligent,
artistic hands, now lay idle.
Voice once so sweet, melodies in Psalm,
outcry harsh expressions, glance to horizons,
where destiny dwells.
Longevity, Spirits vital flame, survives, oulives,
endures a century of Life, Commencement is yours
Lord, work for this Old World is done.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Good Ole' Fashioned Discipline
Come bilio, come bilio, come fill my bowl with
chilio, an innocent mockery of something blessed,
coming from within these sacred doors, a praise
in tongues.
A young child filled with his ignorant bliss, trying
to make an impression on his friends, not realizing
what his little tongue was about to bring upon his
little self.
For from behind these swinging doors, came a
blow to his backside, t'was granny,
how dare he utter negative slur against the worship
of the Lord.
Quickly removing him from the front of the church
house, then the good ole' fashioned lashing, both
with word and strap, a lesson well learned.
Never poke fun at anything or anybody, and most
certainly the Lord, or His worship, for there is no
such thing as innocent mockery of the Lord.
Where have the old fashioned lessons gone, now
children are free to speak their minds, anywhere,
anytime, regardless of who or what is offended,
just try and correct them.
And the insanity grows, as respect for anything
once sacred is meaningless, and we walk farther
away from God.
All the turmoil and vengefulness is blamed on the
Christian's belief in an individual God, a mere
excuse for the liberalists to try and pick apart the
purest who ever lived, bring on more liberalism
and continue to wash away the good, and bring
our country down.
Yet when all is said and done, the violence grows,
and we lose love for our fellow man, it appears,
the whole world, could use some good ole'
fashioned discipline.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Surly Bear
Surly Bear, he's a sight, on that thar' moonlit
night, out in that old forest, he slept with 'de, Old
Gray Mare, and them thar' night sounds, woke
him, they did.
He's in a mad fit, ya see, he roared at 'dat Old
Gray Mare, she's a movin' round in 'dem covers,
and 'dun dit' stop him from hearing, he kepta
roaring, and he jumped clean out, 'dat ole' bunk.
"Dat Old Gray Mare, she's a still in 'dat bunk,
'dun did skert' her, feared ta' make a sound, dern't
ner' cried, 'dem tears swealt in her eyes.
Ole' Surly Bear, he dit' finally knowed, dat's jus'
an ole' pup a whimperin, 'den he put out 'dem big
ole' arms, gave 'dat Ole' Gray Mare, a big
ole' hug.
Old Gray Mare, she knowed Surly Bear jus' lost
his cool sometime, she didn't mind, long as he come
back 'round, wadn't never no worry, ner' nuttin'
like 'dat, he's jus' a tad grumpy sometime, she loved
da' ole' coot, anyhows.
But den', he jus' got so dad-bern gentle, like an old
lamb, Old Gray Mare, she jus' kinda smile, but
'dat dern day, it turned out perty good, after alls.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
To Cathy, A Dear Niece
Though a young child, I remember the day you
were born, waiting to hold you near to me.
Watching you grow, and creating a bond, to
be forever told, the apple of your father's eye,
pure delight to me.
For in your actions and your words, I watched
me grow up again, now you are a woman, a
little younger than me, and the cycle begins anew.
One once said, God made the mold, then came I,
then came you, now the mold must be discarded,
because the world can not handle more than two
of us.
Whatever the reason, whatever His plan, it is
a blessing, to have a niece, as almost a twin.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Nightfall
What a glorious day, now to see the
beginning of the close.
The pines erect, towering lofty,
over-shadowed by dusk.
Sky's misty clouds drift slowly,
with stars dim glow.
A faint trickle of the beaver's dam,
as the stream flows still.
The trees give way, to bird's echoes,
synthesizing angelic choirs.
Blossoms sleep, as voices of the eve
become faint, undisturbed serenity.
A restful slumber, then awakens, to
another lovely day, ah, we are alive.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Fathers And Sons
A blessed event, the first born son, a father's eyes
aglow, he leaps for joy, hr has truly been crowned,
he picks up his babe in arms, smiles, passes out cigars,
a proud moment in his life, time continues and the
child grows, still laughing and playing, and a father
still proud, but then a turn, feeings are still the same,
but anger soon comes to haunt them both.
Why the sudden change in behaviour, why the
disobedience and anger, that flows so easily from
them both, perhaps the father is too busy to listen
and the son so involved with friends he does not see
the importance of his father, holding themselves
apart from each other, can they now mend their
differences.
For in anger hurtful words are spoken cutting deep
within the soul, life is short, and memories last a
lifetime, children grow up so soon, realizing too late, what
having a father is all about, and fathers may fail
to see the love that they are missing, for we only
have our children awhile, they are on loan from
God, hug, love and care for each other while there
is still time, forgive and forget the wrong that's been
done, for the love of a father and son, was meant to
be a mighty strong bond.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Living
Morning wakes, to softly sprinkle kisses of dew, ah
the fragrance of life, as the day unfolds, shedding
blessings untold.
For the trees emerald tips wave in the gentle breeze,
welcoming the sun as she gives forth her light, to feed
all of nature sweet.
Chirping softly, the birds wash away the gloom,
spreading joy within the soul, silver tones touch
the pages in time.
We suckle the essence carried by these gentle breezes,
feeling the warmth of sunlight, and dance in tempo,
ah, it's good to be alive.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Down And Out
The day long, and hard to bare,
with burdens to share.
A drive that is old, solid and straight,
at the traffic light, you must wait.
Standing on the corner, without hate,
he patiently waits his fate.
Tattered and torn, his shoes are worn,
holds up a sign, so forlorn.
Reach in your pocket, to share a coin,
this ragged ole' soul, no place to join.
Red light turns green, continue the road,
thanking the Lord, for no such load.
A heart that is beating, crying outloud,
wishing you had a tiny shroud.
Perhaps a little love, for just one day,
but no one goes out of their way.
So he remains on the corner,
to forever be a loner.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Tamara's Night Light
Shadows in the night create many images for
a young child, she imagines an unbelieveable
course of events, setting fear in a tender heart.
Ghost's images stir, spiders hanging from the
ceiling, figures on the wall, something is bumping
thebed, the curtains seem to move, and what's
in the closet.
None can know how her tiny mind conceives
these creations, to her they are not imaginations,
but real events, in her simple thinking.
Then a wondrous invention, that fabulous
little plug-in, snoppy, cinderella, or perhaps
daffy, glows in the dark, beside her ruffled
bed, a simple light, the fear disappears, and
brings peace for the night, to this angel in light.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Vespucci
On this clay baked soil, America, we've
at last a way to be, regardless of race, a
chance for every man to strive.
Brotherhood from sea to sea, unbreakable
bonds, proudly waves her glory, celebration
in freedom.
Yet no one hears, the silky tongue of the left
wing pewtercrats' subliminal message, as
slowly our freedoms dwindle.
And violence grows in the streets, schools,
even in our sacred church, a sight reserved
for solitude.
Now our constitution becomes as crumpled
paper, blowing in the wind, taking with it,
our God given rights.
Can we, as a union, restore love, which our
nation was founded upon, turn within
your grave, Amerigo, who like we, put his trust,
in God.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Poetaster
Undying passion from within the tattered
soul, a crying spirit, wandering mind, begins
unscrambling a troubled life.
Horizons seen beyond rainbows in the sky, but
why, try to wash away the backward glances,
the aching thoughts, laying heavy on the heart.
Perhaps tomorrow, new dreams will come,
seeing a golden path of happiness, now with
paper and plume in hand, reminiscing of
the once puzzled life, and the words flow
across the pages in time.
Little bits of shadowed visions, partial drops
of memories, and the hopes of days ahead, a
thought in mind, a song in the soul, and a dying
spirit blending together, ah poetry, the soft spoken
word of truth.
Mary L Tarr Montoya Copyright © 2001
Graphics By LivingFaith
Copyright © 2006
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