A poem about beauty in sunset

Sunset Poem

 Click here to watch the video

Sitting here in awe I’m a-watching

The hot yellow sun slowly a-setting

Tumbling down bit by bit

Carrying the light of day with it 

But I'm still sitting in this same ole spot

As I blinked the eyes in awe and watch

The golden sun’s long spiky ray

B/Sides stained glass windows in tall frame-A

Sweet water of Silver Spring 
Sweet water of Silver Spring, oh what soft soothing pleasures you bring
To my eyes my ears my thirsty lips
My tongue so long to taste your flowing delight.
While skins touches your smooth cascades beneath the soft shadows of night.
Your slender Arms hugs the neck of Athlone way over on the left,
Whilst George Town's high hills caresses your breast
Yet your cool clear waters bubbles and constantly your waters flow.
Where do you come from they asked, and where do you hasten to go
No one has ever answer, nobody seems to know.
Young ladies fair washing their hair, bending beneath your crystal flow
Shadowed curtains around them drawn, be it at nightfall or at early dawn
Chattering women washing their load.
On rocks smooth surfaces by the side of the road.
Valiant young men awaits their turn.
Sits on the culvert's edge as they discover and as they learn.
Just one short leg away from hip to toe.
You burst up from the ground and hurries to go
By lush green trees while bending low.
They salutes and bows in reverent show
Sumptuous, refreshing, sugary Sweet water of my unassuming Silver Spring
You winds your way over rocks and river Moss all live long day
Until you pours out of your glad waters, into the anxious jaws of Rio Sambre.
                E. L. Kelly. Feb 2016  

The Road

(Dedicated to everyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one to the road)

Lilly white roses yellow pink and red, freshly cut flowers piled high in bundle

Monuments of sacraments amidst the flickering lights of many burning candles

Heartfelt offerings from strangers and friends, for one who’s life “on this very spot” met its fatal end.

I see them there a teddy bear on well-carved lawn corner lots, I see them everywhere

Bouquets and crosses marks the sites of loved ones loses, that bridge once crossed means innocence lost, and another mother cries, papa sighs, crying, sighing for a child who’s not coming home, much too soon gone.

Ghost cycle painted white, chained up against corrugated lamppost beneath city lights, there on the corner where his last ride ends; in doom, it’s an exhibit there in memory of one; gone too soon.

Holes burned black in asphalt that marks well the spot, twisted metals and debris there I see, fragments of the impact, which sends unsuspecting souls to yonder home never to return here, danger they say lurks on every roads; some real, some imagined, beware users beware.

Firemen’s hoses powerful beams washes the bleeding down a sewer stream,

yet while one walks these shiny streets, the bloodstain whines beneath the feet,

Trucks and cars with flashing lights, as seen from far through the still dark night, weary troopers fast losing sleep, must reopen these roads so with brooms they sweep, and mop, and wash, and scrub the surface clean, of all that’s left of a mother’s treasured dream.

Calvin drove his Cherokee jeep, down a ravine sloping steep, and into the icy cold water it sunk deep, nose first down, and the bubbles came up, then snow fell down, and cover him in.

And yet the road just keeps on twisting, turning, winding along,

She marches to the beat of her own tam, tam, she doesn’t care much about all that zoom, zoom zooming along. Honking flashing, flipping, crashing; rolling up in mangled wreck/less abandoned of foolish exuberance wrapped up in the hearts of the simple and the young.

She’s just the road, friend and foe of the way-faring man, she takes one from point A to B and all points in between them, other than that; she don’t give a damn.

By; E Lloyd Kelly 2015  

Liars
Then there are Liars and God deniers who are now becoming testifiers
swearing on Bible which they Are Liable
To values much less than market place flyers.

Seeking straight answer for their crooked questions
the truth though they conveniently skip, sparsely their consciences prick
this too, they forgot to mention.

Crooked technicians playing the fool, keeps themselves busy designing tools,
then with just as much vigor they are making the rules
which governs the game for everyone else
while they pile on the glory, wealth and the fame but only for themselves.

Boastful dealers and custom stealers all professing to show,

how much they be savvy and in the know,
while busily manipulating things the way they want them to go
and there's that someone who gathers all the spoils
though it was another who did labor, another who toil.
By; The Poet, E. Lloyd Kelly, May 2016    

Jenny was

Jenny was a very pretty little girl till somebody took her out of this world

Those small town cops didn’t ask for help, they try to solve the case all by themselves they never did, and I wish Jenny had lived, Oh but she never did oh how I wish Jenny had lived.

So I tried very hard to make some sense of it but somehow all the pieces does not fit, she was somebody’s queen-of-hearts who dreamt of marriage and a family to start she never did, and I wish Jenny had lived, but she never did oh I wish Jenny had lived

That afternoon it was not late she went for a walk out by the lake,

she wanted to soak up some fresh air before her walk back to the house there where Jenny live, and I wish Jenny had lived, but she never did I really wish Jenny had lived

Heaven only knows and can say why, some people live while others may die, why now can’t I stop these tears from falling, for Jenny sweet girl Jenny I wish Jenny had lived 

She had big dreams and set her sights on some day to see her name in lights with the contest won she was all set to go to the big city to start the show she never did, and I wish Jenny had lived, but she never did

To solve the case those lawmen fail, they foal up big on the small details it still hurts me to see the real sloppy job which those lawmen did with all the leads they had they never did, and I wish Jenny had lived, but she never did

Now forty years come and forty years gone and still those killers has never been found those town folks wants to put it all to rest but somehow it’s been without success they never did, and I wish Jenny had lived, but she never did.

Note; This was written with the intent of recording it as a song but then I changed my mind. Dedicated to those still languishing in the wake of an unsolved crime. We also grieve 

Prelude                         Note:   This poem is on youtube

Fling Flung as Emotions Sprang

Holding Diablo’s Careless Hand

Like The Sad Refrain of an Ancient Song

About Dan, And A Man & A Van

Coated Sugar Cubes As the Errands Went

Allennor’s Exhausted Vacations Spent

Sitting in Limbo Gripping Wistful Lament

Hastily Made Decisions Masked In Repent

Sweet Revenge a Mother’s Seed. Hovering North the Tender Reeds

Heavy Eyelids Awaiting Gluttonous Sleep. Morn’s Piercing Notes to jerk the Feet

Like Cords Hang Loose On Fizzled Ends. Too Far Removed From Make Amends

Blissful Lovers Has Long Gone And Spend. Life Line Extended Western Union Send

Fling Flung Emotions Sprang. Diablo’s Cold Crooked Fingers Still, Still Holding Strong  

Born for this

See it on youtube
A glimpse into your pile of nothingness at how futile your life has been
You’re going to take nothing when you go out of here cause you brought nothing in
You’re a loser there I said it, you’re just trying to save your very skin
But until you lose what’s to be lost, you’re never ever going to win.
 
You are trying and trying so very hard, wanting so much to succeed
Just so you may consume it all, in all your envy and in your greed.
But you’re a loser I know it, despite the social stair you be climbing
Until you lose what’s to be lost, you are never going to win
 
You’ve kicked the doors wide open and then, steamroll over haters same as loving friend
Yet in all of this you can’t venture beyond
That someone who’s standing right there you see, is that someone else who’s holding the key
He’s there to remind you if you’ll but listen to him
That you’re a loser mister man, and there’s a reason why you can’t get in,
Until you lose what’s to be lost, you are never going win
 
You spread your feathers like a blooming peacock, and boast of all the fine blings you’ve got
But what good is all that to you I wonder, when you are lying stretched out six feet under
Before that day finally break, it may do you good if notice you take, that you are a loser my friend, born to lose in order to win
except for losing your load of sin, you are never ever going to win
E Lloyd Kelly