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Moi-CheriePoems
Somewhere, out in the middle of nowhere, there is a space, where bare bones performance's are nightly taking place, like theatre at its best, thrilling energy a chill in the air, you are creating unique worlds on a stage & I hear it's all the rage a modest audience, captivating you are so utterly charming and memorable, I can get lost in your woods in that beautifully familiar rural spot, harvesting & catching hay fever, running through the barns in empty old bays of long vacant farms, while the cattle graze placidly, my usung heroes beckon, along split rail fences, haunting.. along the old railroad beds, down unknown highways & on little know by ways & drifting in skyways through the years & the tears as the last of the Summer flowers, bloom and bow their head, in the rain & the pain, and the words you gently hear whispered softly in your ear, spoke clearly to the sky as they sadly say goodbye & promised I wouldn't cry, I listen to exactly what they said as they are applauded for their stamina, & bravery, as the chlorophyll, chokes out the beauty in everything else, a way to take in the natural beauty, **** a big breath in & waiting to exhale, I'm hiking home, ... to my poetic theater, with tables scattered  about, & mushroom stools, a wonderland of  creatures around weaving arts, threads spun in gold, of my everyday life again it  is told, like in a romantic candlelit dinner date, we sit beneath an glowing incandescent Moon, we are a rare & lucid, sighting, two stars two colors merged from a Gods crayon box, or a well thought out picnic with a very special friend farm to table wonders delicious in every way, you close your eyes to dream, & all you ever need, is an element of trust, a sense of adventure, appreciating the sacrifices the pleasure fills the air I'm traveling past, as is if without a care swimming in the frigid clean & cold waters, rolling mountains protect me on every side come along for the ride, down grey gravel roads, with the heaviest load, where trees still have some color, as the pines & ever-greens brag,   & envious poison ivy, climbs the silo in burning fiery furnace red, golden amber browns & deep golden mustards crunch beneath tires as wood is drying out & is readied for the fires, beyond ****** meadows & the bog where the Moose hide that mysterious house, perched pretty on the hill weathered perfectly, seasoned & mature, looking wise & reminiscent, of a different era, and a show like this would only cost 55 cents... World War 2 in the Pacific just after it... you moved to Vermont and live like a hippie, smoking our chimney sitting silently in classic melodious splendor, a tune is playing as wheat is swaying, a fiddle, out in the middle of my favorite fields counting the bounty yield, admiring the tractors parked for the year some think, your just a farce though I know the fear, you're not a a travesty, in shambles your multi tone shingles craving a dose of stain, your old rocking chair never earning the critical acclaim you deserve & desire,   so lovely in your period costume, as you sit there, with ease and comfort, awaiting patrons, with your zany characters, with open doors & cracking windows, a sadness radiating, from a broken style, looking out at everything glad with a frozen smile, waving at yesterday's poets, Getting ready for another show and time is now, for another snow, your solid pane's, cheering others on saying "way to go"... and if... If you ever find this place, you don't know exactly, what all the fuss is about, ignoring the change of weather pulling out that old red sweater coming to this wonderful, magical time a little homestead theater generationally strong and melodramatic with perfect comic timing a delight in the night, I'll happily play the housemaid delivering a tray of tea with honey and cream answering the doorbell inviting you in have a seat giving you something to eat and this is my treat, I'll gladly greet the guests make them comfortable at our beautiful little venue our ***** little nest as the curtains open and close for the shows, 730 it comes and goes in the center of my universe caught in a time warp, so much good fun and laughter inspired moments in a perfect ensemble cast by my ancestors, I had no idea it would taste, so amazing, this bittersweetness, and so very delicious my feet ache... worn, tired, relieved at last I am, coming home to you, at last I hear, you say, welcome back. Cherie Nolan© 2016
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Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
"Welcome Back Home"
Somewhere, out in the middle of nowhere, there is a space, where bare bones performance's are nightly taking place, like theatre at its best, thrilling energy a chill in the air, you are creating unique worlds on a stage & I hear it's all the rage a modest audience, captivating you are so utterly charming and memorable, I can get lost in your woods in that beautifully familiar rural spot, harvesting & catching hay fever, running through the barns in empty old bays of long vacant farms, while the cattle graze placidly, my usung heroes beckon, along split rail fences, haunting.. along the old railroad beds, down unknown highways & on little know by ways & drifting in skyways through the years & the tears as the last of the Summer flowers, bloom and bow their head, in the rain & the pain, and the words you gently hear whispered softly in your ear, spoke clearly to the sky as they sadly say goodbye & promised I wouldn't cry, I listen to exactly what they said as they are applauded for their stamina, & bravery, as the chlorophyll, chokes out the beauty in everything else, a way to take in the natural beauty, **** a big breath in & waiting to exhale, I'm hiking home, ... to my poetic theater, with tables scattered  about, & mushroom stools, a wonderland of  creatures around weaving arts, threads spun in gold, of my everyday life again it  is told, like in a romantic candlelit dinner date, we sit beneath an glowing incandescent Moon, we are a rare & lucid, sighting, two stars two colors merged from a Gods crayon box, or a well thought out picnic with a very special friend farm to table wonders delicious in every way, you close your eyes to dream, & all you ever need, is an element of trust, a sense of adventure, appreciating the sacrifices the pleasure fills the air I'm traveling past, as is if without a care swimming in the frigid clean & cold waters, rolling mountains protect me on every side come along for the ride, down grey gravel roads, with the heaviest load, where trees still have some color, as the pines & ever-greens brag,   & envious poison ivy, climbs the silo in burning fiery furnace red, golden amber browns & deep golden mustards crunch beneath tires as wood is drying out & is readied for the fires, beyond ****** meadows & the bog where the Moose hide that mysterious house, perched pretty on the hill weathered perfectly, seasoned & mature, looking wise & reminiscent, of a different era, and a show like this would only cost 55 cents... World War 2 in the Pacific just after it... you moved to Vermont and live like a hippie, smoking our chimney sitting silently in classic melodious splendor, a tune is playing as wheat is swaying, a fiddle, out in the middle of my favorite fields counting the bounty yield, admiring the tractors parked for the year some think, your just a farce though I know the fear, you're not a a travesty, in shambles your multi tone shingles craving a dose of stain, your old rocking chair never earning the critical acclaim you deserve & desire,   so lovely in your period costume, as you sit there, with ease and comfort, awaiting patrons, with your zany characters, with open doors & cracking windows, a sadness radiating, from a broken style, looking out at everything glad with a frozen smile, waving at yesterday's poets, Getting ready for another show and time is now, for another snow, your solid pane's, cheering others on saying "way to go"... and if... If you ever find this place, you don't know exactly, what all the fuss is about, ignoring the change of weather pulling out that old red sweater coming to this wonderful, magical time a little homestead theater generationally strong and melodramatic with perfect comic timing a delight in the night, I'll happily play the housemaid delivering a tray of tea with honey and cream answering the doorbell inviting you in have a seat giving you something to eat and this is my treat, I'll gladly greet the guests make them comfortable at our beautiful little venue our ***** little nest as the curtains open and close for the shows, 730 it comes and goes in the center of my universe caught in a time warp, so much good fun and laughter inspired moments in a perfect ensemble cast by my ancestors, I had no idea it would taste, so amazing, this bittersweetness, and so very delicious my feet ache... worn, tired, relieved at last I am, coming home to you, at last I hear, you say, welcome back. Cherie Nolan© 2016
Wow, idk inspired.... So beautiful love & life...could be... ; ):
#love#poetry#home#ink#writing#vermont#inspired
Moi-Cherie
Written by
Moi-Cherie
F
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
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