Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Connie Buchan Nov 2013
Summer’s eves of warmth and bliss.
Those are the moments I truly miss,
As winter sets in for months to come
I remember the days that can’t be undone.
The days of bird and squirrel sounds
As childhood laughter does abound.
The sun sets late and is early to rise,
A glorious sight in our prairie skies.
Days now short as nights grow long
A chirping sparrow gives a lonely song.
The squirrel runs high along the wire
Fulfilling some unknown squirrel desire.
My summer bench all covered in white
Is a lonely and cold, desolate sight.
Several months from now I will again go sit
In my private paradise with Tucker and Kit.
This inspiration for this is our 1st dump of snow for this winter which happened this past weekend.
Tucker and Kit are my dog and cat. We enjoy our summers in my back yard.
Connie Buchan Nov 2013
Because you saw what was happening and did not ignore it,
Because you did not turn away when other countries were helpless,
Because you signed up when they asked you to,
Because you saw the world’s need as greater than your own comfort,
Because you suffered indescribable horrors in war,
Because your mother lived in fear of losing her child,
Because your wife shared her beloved husband with others,
Because your children allowed their arms to be pried from around your neck,
Because you knew you may not come home but you went anyway,
Because many of you did not come home and those that did were never the same,
Because of you I live. I laugh. I love. I read. I walk free. I work. I think. I speak. I believe. I am not afraid.
You are my hero.
Connie Buchan Nov 2013
My efforts are lost on you.
I take care to present myself in the best light,
But my efforts are lost on you.

My efforts are lost on you.
I am entertaining and hone my wit,
But my efforts are lost on you.

My efforts are lost on you.
I stay current on the world’s events and express an informed opinion,
But my efforts are lost on you.

My efforts are lost on you.
I am helpful, caring and have surrounded myself with good friends,
But my efforts are lost on you.

My efforts are lost on you.
I need to face the truth and realize that you are not what I imagine you to be.
My efforts are wasted on you.
Connie Buchan Oct 2013
Few words on a Tuesday.
Hmm
Not usually my way.
Connie Buchan Oct 2013
Coloured leaves and a bright blue sky,
The way it looks to an artist's eye.
A day of loving, goodness, kind.
The emotion in a poet's mind.

These are the days of a splendid fall
Given to us, one and all
Who are blessed to live in a land
With seasons of 4 painted grand.

Fall leads to Winter and we can’t wait for Spring
A beautiful Summer it is sure to bring.
Each has its pleasure and treasures to share
But yet we have favourites and dare to compare.

Each time I catch a breathtaking sight
I say to myself, “Well, this one just might
Be the most beautiful I’ve seen.”
Then with next season I don’t remember where I’ve been.
The peace and perfection of a new fallen snow
Is just as beautiful as seeing a fawn and a doe
On a newly formed Spring afternoon.
And if you dismiss one over the other you’ve spoken too soon.

The fun and the frolic of a sweet Summer day
Lingering lazy; the best times, many will say.
But autumn with crisp chills and rustling leaves
Just take a look; brilliant tapestry it weaves.

Each day I look ‘round me and give thanks for my life
I dwell in a place free of war and of strife.
I love my country, home, fellow man.
I know I am lucky. I know that I am.
Connie Buchan Oct 2013
The life I lived was the best for me.
I do not regret and neither should thee.
I know you gave me love and care.
Please cherish the time we had to share.

You changed my life, as I did yours.
Together we opened many doors.
I’ve moved on but you must stay
To love and laugh and again to play.
My son's school has an 'Angel Wall' with plaques of children who have passed. I wrote this verse to be engraved on Shane's plaque. My dad loved it so much he asked that I have it read at his funeral. Now they are both with my mom and brother playing somewhere nice (I hope).
Connie Buchan Oct 2013
Being human, you are not perfect.
Almost, but even you are slightly flawed.
I turn a blind eye to what I choose not to see.
It is only your perfection I applaud.

This is a foolish way for me to think.
I know you are just like anyone else.
Sometimes giving to others,
Sometimes keeping for yourself.

I really know you are like all of us.
Just a person trying to be.
We struggle, we fall, we get back up.
It’s only ourselves perfection won’t free.

Perched on a pedestal, up so high
You see where the rest of us have failed.
You are afraid to fail yourself.
But no one can live up to the you that you have put out there.

You have been a fool, a liar, your whole life a lie.
Will the real you ever step forward?
Is there a real you?
I doubt it. If there is no one, not you, not me, no one, could recognize it.

I am to the point of pitying you now.
What a waste of a life.
What a waste of all that you could have had.
All that you have every wanted. And you turned your back on it .... afraid.
Next page