Poetry & SonnetsDate: 10-07-89
From: Dale Malone
To: You
Subj: Dark Poetry
Within my heart the harp strings
plucked,
The clock has flipped to forty and nine,
A dismal day, it really sucked,
Where's the gifts, supposed to be mine?
Rivulets of tears upon my cheek,
No party hats or cake to cut,
No beribboned boxes to shake and peek,
Life gets longer, stuck in a rut.
The sun slips down on a cloudy
day,
The numbing sameness grinds me down,
On, ticks the clock, hands I cannot stay,
I slip into slumber, my visage a frown.
But on the morrow's climbing sun,
Sunday's events should lead to fun,
Exhale the sadness, breathe in the Power,
Death to frown, off with the glower!
My heart is surging, filled with
pride,
Cannot this downer hold me back,
Open my eyes and smiling wide,
A new day is born, leap from the sack!
Written by Dale E. Malone, Anyone
forget your birthday?
The Great & Wonderful Kahuna wants to know!
Last
modified: April 26, 2009