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    Seasons of Poetry
    Seasons of Poetry
    Seasons of Poetry
    Ebook106 pages40 minutes

    Seasons of Poetry

    By Kenneth D Ollis

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    About this ebook

    A book of verse so plain and clear
    To ease the mind and please the ear.
    So easy to read, no burdensome lines.
    No lingering stories of trouble times.

    This poetry is written in a style different from any I have seen before. Each poem is distinctly different from others within the book. Collectively they are entirely different from any book of poetry it has been my pleasure to read. I believe the poems contained in this book will be of interest to anyone regardless of their station or status in life. This is beautiful poetry that is sad at times, passionate and inspiring at others. The reader can expect to be transported away to different times and places.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateJun 22, 2003
    ISBN9781469748894
    Seasons of Poetry
    Author

    Kenneth D Ollis

    My roots are here in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. After leaving for many years I returned to live again among natures beauty and lovely people. My wife and I live in a log cabin on a mountain named Gingercake. We raised two sons and have three grandchildren.

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      Book preview

      Seasons of Poetry - Kenneth D Ollis

      SLEEP MY DEAR WOMAN

      Hush hush my dear woman, hush.

      Be quiet and go back to sleep.

      It is the canvas you hear flapping

      And the stomping of the oxens’feet.

      Be quiet my dear woman, be quiet.

      Hush now and go back to sleep.

      It is the call of a wolf you are hearing.

      Lay near me for the comfort you seek.

      Be quiet my dear woman, be quiet.

      Hush now and go back to sleep.

      Tomorrow we reach the Oregon Trail.

      Please be brave and do not weep.

      Awaken my dear woman, awaken.

      This is not a time to sleep.

      It is the swishing of arrows I hear.

      Oh Lord! One has pierced you deep.

      Sleep now my darling woman, sleep.

      Beside this trail is your eternal rest.

      I must leave you here on the prairie

      And press onward to the west.

      THE VILLAGE CLOCK SMITH

      Where has the Village Clock Smith gone?

      My gold watch is in need of repair.

      It ticks no more for lack of a spring.

      I went to his shop but he was not there.

      My grandfather clock hangs on the wall

      Without the slightest movement or chime.

      I inquired of others oh where can he be?

      Now gone, said they, the last of his kind.

      I treasure my watch with its golden chain.

      I have few treasures that are mine.

      On Sundays I wear it with my only suit,

      Tucked in my vest so the chain will shine.

      How I wish I could repair my ancient clock.

      It is over one hundred years old,

      Handed down to me by my father from his.

      It once belonged to Lincoln so I have been told.

      I long to visit that grand old place

      So convenient on the village square.

      As a boy I was especially charmed.

      Each day I stopped to view what was there,

      Clocks and watches resting upon the shelves.

      Some were silent awaiting his gentle touch.

      Others ticked and alarmed and chimed.

      Now the shop is empty; this place I loved so much.

      I have been away to fight a long war.

      When I returned no clock smith could I find

      All seems so different since I returned.

      Perhaps we have all lost track of time.

      FIRST LOVES

      First loves are forever

      They never leave.

      All through your life

      They forever cleave.

      Like the most important memories

      Filed in the crevices of your mind

      You keep this one in a special place

      Where it is easy to find.

      Through the years memories fade

      And new loves appear.

      But seldom does one meet another

      So tender and so dear.

      Like clouds new loves drift on past

      Until at last you wed.

      But you remember still that first love

      And the life you might have led.

      Your present life you would not trade

      Although at times you may falter.

      You cannot suppress the wandering thoughts

      If it had been your first love at the altar.

      As time slowly takes its toll

      And you know life will be no better.

      With shaky hands you retrieve from

      Your hiding place

      And read an old love letter.

      THE LOVERS DANCE

      A lady more beautiful none had seen.

      Such beauty as hers was rare.

      With tempting lips and pearly teeth

      And cheeks so high and skin so fair.

      The slightest breeze caressed her red hair.

      Her eyes were emerald green.

      If she had lived in places of royalty

      Surely she would have been queen.

      Today she sat atop a high rail fence.

      It was her favorite place in the world.

      She had often come to daydream here

      Since she was a very young girl.

      She could see her home far below.

      Sometimes her

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