it seems no matter which way I goes
I'm never much further in than my toes
always feeling left out
and having self-doubt
but I guess that's just how the wind blows.

when I heed the ocean's pull
I hear its rhythmic roll
it makes my heart seem full
creating music in my soul

when the mountains call
with their mist so softly rising
above their majestic sprawl
my dreams are mesmerizing

I hear the ocean's rhythmic roll
its gentle lapping waves
creating music in my soul
the peace my spirit craves

with mountain mist so softly rising
above gently rolling crowns
my dreams are mesmerizing
of that peaceful sacred ground

ocean's gentle lapping waves
licking feet, tickling toes
the peace my spirit craves
takes away my woes

above gently rolling crowns
the sky cerulean blue, a part
of that peaceful sacred ground
that lifts my grateful heart

ocean licking feet, tickling toes
enjoyment to the full
takes away my woes
when I heed the ocean's pull

the sky cerulean blue, a part
of enjoyment to enthrall
that lifts my grateful heart
when I hear the mountains' call

I’ve not been there but would love to go
to a country rich with dancing, singing
full of life, cathedral bells all ringing
Lush vines, glistening purple berries grow

Pasta carbonera and gelato
Gustatory satisfaction bringing
Romantic dinners while hearts are winging
blushing Crimson wines, candlelight aglow

walking cobbled streets beneath heaven’s blue
being sung to in gondola reclined

ancient ruins, arts and mountain view
fountains for wishing, two hundred year steps to climb

street vendors, smiling faces greeting you
a peaceful, joyous way to spend one’s time.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

.
Snow drifts down
     laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
          creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
     bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
     and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
     A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
     as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
                     tranquility,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
          The snow falls,
     falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
               all is still,
               nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
     dreaming,
                       of being kissed by the Sun.



© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)