Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The Little Brown Bear carried a Rose..
He tripped and it went up his snout..
The Little Brown Bear feeling so sad,
sat down and began to pout..
Along came a Bee, and said ' let me see,
if I can help you out..'
He went up his nose, and buzzed about..
The Little Brown Bear sneezed, and the
Rose came out..
The Bee flew away, and the Bear called
him back..
The Bee said, ' I can't..
'It just Bee's like that..'
This is not a perfect world, we
see things everyday..
That make us take a second look,
or make us turn away..
The heart of man has turned to stone,
and compassion is not found..
We've taken love and friendship
and beat them to the ground..
No longer do we hold our dreams,
and all our hopes so dear..
At any given moment, we will
trade them in for fear..
Let's end this reign of violence, and
halt these evil designs..
We are all in this as one human race,
to that we must resign..
So, please reach out so all of us cease
the malice and the pain..
And maybe one day soon, we'll hear
sweet music in the rain..
And as you kneel and pray to God
for a better life for all..
Ask that Peace and Tolerance be
placed visible on the Wall..
The peeling walls of my mind, feel like
their closing in on my sanity..
Deep shadows of the farthest corners
of my periphery warning me of pending doom..
At once a sense of calm begins to overtake
my being..
As if the eternal tranquility of death was
already embracing me..
Then, marching to the failing beat of my
heart, faint footsteps came to a halt..
The war was over, the battle lost, and I
surrendering my soul to the demons
inside of me..
Sitting atop God's beautiful mountain, I
had a visionary dream..
I know not where she came from, but
saw her moving along through the orchards
in the morning, and along the roads
throughout the day..
Planting and plucking wisdom like oranges..
She carried the sun in a small basket
behind her eyes..
She spoke through them on planes of light..
I saw her from a distance, as she spoke about
nature to me through a screen of flowers..
She painted indelible words on the canvas
of my mind..
She made magic pictures out of the frames
of reason..
She wove music out of the sounds of being..
I was bound for hours in the fine fabric of
her aura..
I tried, at best, to capture her soul, as I began
to sketch her mysterious image in my mind..
But at twilight she began to fade, and by
evening she was gone..
Leaving only a memory..
Ready for sleep and lying in my bed..
I heard this music spinning 'round
in my head..
I wasn't dreaming, I knew it was there,
and it was coming from my Frigidaire..
As I opened up the door, to my surprise..
The Pork Chops were dancing with the
Chicken Thighs..
They said, "don't bother us now, 'cause
were really hot, none of us are gonna
sit in here and rot.."
Sweet Fruit and some Juices were doing
it too, and the Milk standing tall was
singing Moo, Moo, Moo..
As I opened up the freezer, I heard a
different beat..
All of the other stuff was grooving
with the Meat..
Everybody was getting down, then
I gently closed the door..
But I see no rest for me, this night..
My feet keep tapping on the floor..
With tool and wood the craftsman slave..
Patience within the soul he gave..
To ever last thru ages long..
So very light, but yet so strong..
At his bench both day and night..
With tool and chisel  he carve just right..
A neck to make, and turn the scroll..
The pegs to fit, he drill the hole..
Hard maple back, and spruce the top..
The sides he steam, and interlock..
A sound post fit and so the bridge..
To fit the contour of the ridge..
A piece of wood he put in place..
To give it depth and also bass..
A varnish stain of amber hue..
A reddish stain to blend in too..
Some Virtuoso maybe play, to give
someone a brighter day..
For music make the world go round..
A greater piece of art not found..
Four strings he add, and then to pitch..
To test the soul he gave so rich..
A balanced bow he now must make..
The hair from mane of horses take..
Then to his hand, he draw the bow..
Across the strings the music flow..
A symphony a quiet band..
A melody heard 'round the land..

— The End —