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Fall Leaves Cast Into The Whispering Wind by H.L. Dowless - HTML preview

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Upon their heavy shoulders once did they carry bulging bags of stuff

for every little girl and boy?

Was it reindeer that they used to trust

with all of their gracious transport?

Whom hath my door once let in?

 

 

Were their numbers three, seven, nine or twelve,

were they all in Saint Nick's employ?

Was the magic of their wonders just of normal people, pixie, sprite or elves?

Were they folks whom were very well known,

or people who were there only to make a sell?

Please sir, oh please, can't anyone dare tell?

 

 

I know from past pages that thy owners were nine

in number on a printed page in name,

for more knowledge we can choose to struggle and find

only a lacking of record to blame.

Still the question brilliantly looms in our mind

just the same;

whom hath my door once let in?

Whom have my walls once greeted?

Their many secrets shall remain without end,

but can anyone anywhere just tell me,

whom have my door once let in?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To My Crystal Chandelier

 

 

To the chandelier that graces my living room,

what spirits hath ye harbored and known,

whose emanation from what tomb?

Oh, the seeds of prosperity that thou has witnessed being sown,

as well as those who labor in absence of any boom.

What mysteries doth ye hold to tell, and unto whom do they belong?

 

 

Did ye behold that blessed day

when I entered into my living room den,

so graciously moved by my mistress' enrapturing sway?

Did ye notice when

from fancies mastery we could no longer hesitate

so we loved so passionately right there on that mahogany divan?

 

 

Didst thou behold me as I attempted to hex her

with my talented moves?

Didst thou and thy possessed sprite

applaud my gifted groove?

 

 

Does thou recall those most cherished days of Christmas past,

when unknown honored ones entered underneath thy watch?

For the dies have now been eternally cast,

of the course in future's direction, even thy best efforts will never botch.

 

 

So we continue on without wear

within these four walls, oh chandelier

that graces my den room.

May those blessed divine spirits who possess ye

always make me and my family their delightful bloom!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sound Of Christmas Bells

 

 

I hear the ringing of Christmas bells

amid the singing of the immortal noel,

of stockings and holly

surrounding a fat man who is so jolly.

Through it all though, I can still tell

the merry ring of the Christmas Bells.

 

 

I hear the cheerful laughter of playful children

and the clattering hooves on the roof of eight tiny reindeer.

I hear the confident words of Grandma and Grandpa,

telling tales of distant lore, causing kids to gasp in awe.

 

 

I hear the wrapping of cherished gifts

amid a feeling of joy that uplifts

even the most tearful of eyes

with their hearts' most longing surprise.

Oh listen to my words well,

I hear the ringing of Christmas bells!

 

 

I behold the brilliant spectrum of a Christmas tree,

spreading the good cheer by causing the people to gaze forward in glee.

Oh do please listen to my words' telling of this vision now....

I behold a manger among the goats and the cow,

and the joy of the sweet babe inside doth tell

the pleasure of the ringing Christmas bells!

I see the brilliant Christmas star

beckoning us all in from the distance so far.

So thus my dear children, strive always to do well,

for 'tis on this day I hear the hexing rime of yuletide bells!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Poodle And Molly Wally Toodle

 

 

Molly Wally Toodle

once had a pink pudgy poodle,

who ate fried fat and noodles with whey,

crying Golly Molly Toodle all day!

 

 

Well she just didn't know what to do

cause she was about to come unglued,

with that poodle who ate only fried fat

and noodles with whey,

running all around town crying

Golly Molly Toodle all day.

 

 

So she took him down to a Pie-man

who charged a royal diamond,

but he swore to Miss Molly Wally Toodle

that he could cure her pink pudgy poodle

from eating only fried fat and noodles with whey,

and running 'round town crying Golly Molly Toodle all day.

 

 

So with him for a fortnight that Poodle did stay,

and ate not any fried fat nor noodles with whey,

but instead he introduced him to a female snoodle,

and so soon those dreaded words that happy little poodle

just forgot to say.

But I remember well the merry time in May

when that pink pudgy poodle ran all around the way,

saying Golly Molly Toodle all day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Tradition Of Living

 

 

Children playing in the house,

presents laying on the couch.

Santa hanging above the door,

anticipation rising for much more.

 

 

The tree is radiating from the corner,

every woman now refrains from being the scorner.

Coffee is steeping in the pot,

good food is steaming, piping hot!

 

 

The punch is flowing into the bowl,

the yearning 's are rising in our soul.

The longing for new thrills fresh anew,

we must take action or we shall soon come unglued!

 

 

Dogs are yelping in their pen,

they cannot wait for the hunt to begin.

The smell of burning powder in the air,

we grab our guns without a care.

 

 

As the fog hangs we make our way into the woods,

we move forward gently, not disturbing the goods.

From the shadow void appears a monster buck,

I raise my gun and make the great pluck!

 

 

When we make it back home

we are hailed with Christmas cheer.

Now our hunger has all reason to fear!

It all is heaped so lovingly into our plates;

For gracious sake, I see there are also butter beans

and pecan pie for us to take!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take Time To Live Life

 

 

The season is here,

our time is near,

so live and love with cheer,

for time is precious, to be held dear.

 

 

Drift with the winds,

let the fun begin,

my child, for into time ye will be sent,

then your days shall thus be spent.

 

 

Laugh with the children,

pray with the pilgrims,

worship the divine one with a smile,

only evil should be your earnest denial.

 

 

Drift with the stream,

go with the feeling, I mean.

Don't force the motion

since fighting it feels like battling the ocean.

Just smile and let go,

then you'll come to know

that most intense level of euphoria!

 

 

In the end we all shall come to know

whether our fears are valid, and only woe

waits for flesh and souls to relish

or has it all only been the subject of a vast embellish?

Maybe eternal pleasure be our blessed fate,

waiting for that date,

when forces beyond our comprehension,

compel us to stand before the authority of mention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Behold.. The Secular Is Vanity

 

 

My eyes strain to remain open,

beholding heaven's anointed gate,

gazing upon that blessed token,

awaiting my graceful date.

 

 

That pain called life still holds it's own allure,

but my once shining spirit now is fading into a hazy wane,

threatening that mighty compulsion to endure,

when I view the gradually revealing truth that all secular is in vain.

 

 

Whilst I lay backwards on grassy knoll,

admiring the brilliance of clear skies and radiant sun,

the precious sight is suddenly astonished by threatening flash and rumbling troll,

as though the spectrum villain who lords all earth is out in search of jesting fun.

 

 

The trees and lavish blossoming vegetation

all about are thrown into sudden tempest tossed,

then arises those clouds of ravens without hesitation,

hoping to exit before all that is precious to them is eternally lost.

 

 

I now close my eyes as that raging storm completely surrounds,

hoping to transcend from within the horrible present

into the radiant beauty of sanctified glowing elegance that abounds

outside of that secular atmospheric dome crescent.

So reason I... that if I should make my earnest request upward from the present ground,

that my specter shall somehow arise skyward into hallowed embracing blessing..

When I dared to open my eyes, the weight of despair served only impound

still both my shackled body and soul again underneath stormy skies without digressing,

keeping me in chains here on harrowing mortal ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Duel

 

 

We shall meet by the riverside,

to see the deed through as it will,

to do battle and to abide

by our honor until we reach a standstill.

 

 

As the sun moved nearer the horizon,

our bodies surging forth into the battle heat,

none retreating nor despising,

choosing to stand strong facing defeat or death.

 

 

First the fist 'o cuffs fly,

we wince not nor ne'er shrug,

in our skill the onlookers may thrive.

We do battle until the earth is soaked in our blood.

 

 

Then is drawn our razor edged knives,

the blades slashing surrounding air with a hiss.

A single good swipe may ruin our lives,

but could be death with a single unstable miss.

 

 

The enemy crumples with the proper blow,

his body now sagging to the damp earth.

With this single event, both he and all others shall come to know

from among whom it was that we had our birth.

Thus the duel has now been won,

that blessed fight for honor's sake.

Enemy blood has now spilled 'neath the dying sun,

he shall ne'er stand before our wake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To The Brave And Free

 

 

I know what you've been thinking,

you've been staring out that window way too hard.

I can only guess what you've been a drinking,

you must be playing your last card.

 

 

I saw you gazing into the rolling river

from way up high on that ominous stony ledge.

If such should be your fate, then ye may ne'er deliver

your self from that beguiling dark edge.

 

 

Ye life has wound round many an extraordinary hedge,

oh indeed...the pleasant times have been many;

the thrill of revelry has been the wedge

between a base existence of shear boredom envied by a pious plenty!

 

 

Ye hoped dearly to one day find your direct way,

moving forward in your own direction,

but the forces of fate have now overwhelmed you today,

pushing you onward into a new decision.

 

 

The time of opportunity has now crept passed,

though you bravely played thy hand in thine own unique way,

now by the lonesome curbside ye have been brutally cast,

and it so sadly appears that you're here to stay.

 

 

But alas..., you have lived reality on your own terms...,

now choosing finality with the same romantic grace,

living splendidly in-spite of an imposing repressive system that burns

to forbid people the natural right of prosperity and chosen place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Flowers To Jeanie

 

 

Thou art so graceful, dear Jeanie,

oh see how ye move 'tween the fleece with such agile grace;

ye so gifted in those passionate arts, mi pequena reina,

certainly thy chamber is my proper inherited place!

 

 

Who would have known that so deeply behind dense hedgerows,

a couple such as we would have chanced to even meet?

But only the gypsy maiden with the crystal ball knows

of our future that we so recklessly wagered to seek.

 

 

Behold...she told us about it all of late

down at the bohemian booth in the county fair.

She told us that our passion would ne'er wait,

but we both stood frozen idle, so shocked in our refusal to believe...I swear!

 

 

I , a swaggering swashbuckler, living only for thrilling wandering adventure....

Ye, a gentle chateau maiden, harshly shielded from all baneful turf...

No one would have e'er guessed that we would be wed to loves' sultry indenture,

for very soon there-after, I was living on the other side of the earth!

 

 

But oh... my darling Jeanie, they never noticed me when I galloped so boldly back into town.

They never saw me when I came knocking on your back door, oh my dearest lady...,

they never noticed you beam like a gilly clown, when you allowed me to enter in!

If ye Papa should e'er discover the truth,

would his rage then possess an ounce of mercy..oh just maybe?

When the neighbors shall find out, they will surely say that it was all such a disgusting sin,

surely it was you who dared to live the venture to quench that most obsessive burn...,

and them who could only smolder with the perfect yearning

to be where it is that thou hast been!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Cup O' Mine

 

 

Cup O plenty,

this cup O' mine,

for that you hold

my body pines.

When I am weary,

sulk and dreary,

this vice that you hold

renders me lively

and sometimes bold.

 

 

When I need confidence,

class and persistence,

this right hand O' mine,

thy handle shall attend.

 

 

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