"minks" poems
Along the banks of Lake Shelbyville
That’s what I think of when it’s your birthday
A camp fire burning on a cool April night
We two drinking hot mauled cider
Or better yet “Hornsby’s Draft Cider”
Talking and laughing
Making up parodies
Parodies of Zeppelin and Floyd songs
Listening to the nightingales and the crickets
And watching fire light
That almost appears to be living
Watching slow rolling clouds, and feeling the whispering wind
Rolling in and out and over and under
The engaging light of the moon and stars
And maybe some of our friends were there
And maybe it was only us
Brother and sister
Best friends forever
Retelling stories of our past
Creating memories for our future
Waxing religion and philosophy
Such philistines, think my parents
And your parents don’t get it
And yes we have separate parents
And yes we have the same parents
(Adoption is a funny thing you see)
You are my funny BIG, BIG, BIG brother
Santa Claus, Sasquatch, Cave Man, and Viking
And I am your little crazy sister
Flower Child and Sacagawea
And it is your birthday
And I love you always
Love, Sarah Jane Gillian Tiffany Michelle Whispering Wind Grider Minks Summers Jonathan George Washington Francis Fleming Greenlee Whiter Liston Hall
Aka Awesome Pagan Goddess
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 1:36 PM UTC
I’d Love to go to France
And sail upon the Sine
I’d love to go to Germany
And Sail upon the Rhine
I’d love to see the castles
Of England and of Spain
To see the royal Princess Kate
And her lovely husband William,
Oh, to have Prince Charming as a mate
And then the rain that stays mainly in the plane
Having traveled there in luxury by lavish gilded train
I’d love to see the mountains
In Switzerland and Austria
And see the vast rice fields
In Countries like Korea
And drink frothy bubbling ale
From a tavern near a windmill in the Netherlands
And climb a tiny mountainous hill
In enchanting charming Whales
I’d love to see the canals
In a Gondola in Venice
Or maybe go to China to watch some table tennis
I’d love to see the pyramids
Of Egypt and Peru
And see the Ancient Monoliths
On Easter Island too
And feel the spirits of Celtic and Norse Gods rise inside of me
At magical stunning Stonehenge
While far off in the distance Scottish Bagpipers play for free
But Alas, Alas sadness ensues
These things I’ll never see
Poverty always haunts me
And I won’t win the lottery
I’ll never see the breathtaking things
That others take for granted
Though they will always be here
Part of this amazing planet
I’ll have to take in what I can
And not hope for what cannot be
I’ll have to imagine all these things
In my own special way
and see all I can see
Watching shows like, “Rick Steve’s Europe”
Scheduled to air, everyday
On PBS TV
Sarah Hall Minks Copyright 4/28/12
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 11:12 AM UTC
I am not of this world
Said she
The world of mediocrity
I am not part
Of this trivial life
This life of work
And endless strife
I do not want this inner struggle
I’ve been drowning in this abysmal puddle
The puddle appears shallow and harmless
You are not the one
Confronting its acrimoniousness
You are not haunted by its bitter taste
Being pulled down into its grotesque waste
You’ve no idea how arduous it can be
Poor, penniless, hopeless
Like me
Sarah Hall Minks copyright 4/28/12
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Awkward n 15 year olds stroll with thrift minks and mismatched flowerd lace klunk grandma heels and a thrill in their eyes.
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 6:28 AM UTC
I stuffed blood diamonds in your mouth
melted chocolate at your feet
laced your feelings with ivory grain
Sailing in the minks of
your private affairs
venturing upward to the
birds
I stood mum under the heretic of
your eyes
playing dead games and shaking
off a bottle of *****
mirroring all your troubles
from the night
before
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
snow is drifting
beneath my feet
the wind is blowing
it cuts like teeth
the wolves are howling
for something to eat
the summer is gone
there's no retreat
i like the warmth
much better than this
the storm it show's
that she is ******
wolves come closer
in a pack
there's no escape
from there attack
build a fire
to keep warm
and help protect you from the storm
the sun goes down
it's getting colder
the pack of wolves
is getting bolder
the gun is loaded
and it's ready
the cold makes it hard to aim and steady
i'm trapping minks
and lynx and stuff
to make a living
you know it's tough
i don't want to shoot these
wolves so grand
although there trying to make a stand
i mind my business
but there hungry too
and a weeks hard work
of trapping food
i have more heart than some one would
i'm gonna feed
these hungry wolves
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC