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 Sep 2017 Timothy Ward
Donna
Tis a chilly morn
I can feel autumns presence
and so can the trees
Its chilly today x
When the sea rages and the night wind blows oh so cold. The master waits for you to come and call. On the water he walked to meet his disciples. In the hold of the ship he lay fast asleep. When they feared they would perish, their souls he did keep. He spoke to the wind and the raging storm. Then the sun did shine and there was a great calm. No matter what you are going through or how the tempest tosses you to and froe. Know that he is there in the storm with you.
Many do not believe and that is ok, as for myself, I know that Christ is there in every storm.
At night
when the lake
becomes a mirror,
I look over to witness
the reflection of the stars

**... Just so you can see me for one last time ...
The blush water lilies
all rose up with sunshine's gold
as the little sailor boy
by the pond merrily strolled.

His cheeks were cherry red,
and his locks - fair and yellow
when he sat by the wooden bridge
playing on his father's cello.

And while his music was even heard
in the fisherman's village, so clear and loud
He spotted his reflection in the water and said
,, Boy, to be so young I am most certainly proud ! ,,

Suddenly the sailor boy realized soon,
to the old captain he gave his word
and promised to set sail with him
by tomorrow's merciful noon.

But this rash oath he did regret,
for instead with the village boys to carelessly play
he had to leave the warm dry land
and boldly sail under skies angry and grey.

Why, Oh why did he ever ran away from home,
and abandon his poor mother who was very ill
to wait for him all  day and all night
'cause he was her only son, true and still

So he stood up and quickly passed the bridge,
thinking of his mother's eyes, colored in brown
And below the mossy ridge he ran
when he saw her weeping in the garden.

,, Mother, sweet mother ,, - the sailor boy cried
and ran up to her hugging her apron, clean and white
,, I do not wish to sail young in the roaring sea
and leave you alone here to die of terrible fright ,,

,, Do not worry ,,- his mother happily said
and his blessed heart was again filled with joy,
for he knew that even if he never would sail to sea,
he would always remain the little sailor boy
the brush creates
    in careful steps
a painter‘s vision of the face
lets eyes shine bright
    or filled with pain
the lips closed firm and serious
    or hinting at a secret smile
abundant hair, a bit, or none at all
large ears, or medium, or small
pale cheeks, or rosy, with a glow
firm chin, with or without a beard

few limits to the versions of the world
in the attempt to make
the portrait gaze
right into viewers' eyes
    wide with surprise
 Sep 2017 Timothy Ward
ryn
Red is the life
that runs thick and fierce
through my veins.

And black is the void
that unscrupulously and
tyrannically consumes it all.
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