Friday, June 1, 2012




Where Morning Glories Grew

The old cedar fence
Was standing all askew
Falling down in neglect
To me it was brand new

Grasses held the aged wood
Green and yellow in hue
Only beauty caught my eye
Tears ran like dawns first dew

Then i remembered why i came
My only thought was of You
I wanted to see the house
Where the morning glories grew

It ran along the porch rails
Climbed the creaky old swing
Then tumbled upon the roof
To grow as it learned to cling


Similar the color placed in jest
They mocked You as my King
It was the blush of my inheritance
The Blood took away the sting


Few can match the wonder
Of this Vine in full bloom
Like You with arms out stretched
My Morning, My Glory, My Groom

Judy L Wilson
May 31, 2012
All Rights Reserved

Saturday, May 26, 2012

A Little Girls Life

Sugar cotton, taste of candy
Pops of lolly, rainbow sun
Pink creamed ice, strawberry
Little girls life, just begun

Polka dot, heart of flowers
White petticoat, angel wings
Dancing around in penny loafers
To the melody, song birds sing

Up a daisy, down a daisy
To the jump of a rope
With a net chasing butterflies
Spring brings new hope

Kneeling by the bedside
Praying her soul to keep
With a teddy bear in arms
She drifts off to sleep

Dreaming of a world
Full of love and laughter
A fairytale prince
In a happy ever after

A little girls life

Patricia A Moore
December 3,2010

Dark Road

How do I get to where I’m going
When I’m lost from where I came
Following the directions on the map
There’s only one, that I could blame

Traveling miles of lonely highway
Destined, still searching for a sign
Circumstance going terribly wrong
In bewilderment I’ve went half blind

Looking intensely from place to place
An empty promise far as the eye did see
Nothing appeared in my shadowed sight
Except, the dark road of emotional debris

Quick was gloom to penetrate around
In darkness, feeling my own despair
Caught by hours leading to midnight
Isolated, out in the middle of nowhere.

Patricia A Moore
November 20,2010

Phoenix

A foretoken given by day of Light
Descending through dark of night
Gray of ash upon the crest seen
Raked over coals down between.

In the shadows, reasoning of choice
Still and silent, as one with no voice
Fire was blazing with indignation
Roaring with the cry of damnation.

Understanding has gone amiss
Devoured in this burning abyss
Judgement echoes off the mount
For all to see, I stand in account.

Friendship once stood by my side
Fled with the wind, to run and hide
Partaking not, in decisions made
Yet it was not I, who felt betrayed.

Burned out by the fan of flames
All that is left, very little remains
Like a Phoenix, state of ruin I’m in
From ashes, resurrection will begin.

Patricia A. Moore
August 24, 2010

Wildflowers Heart Of Gold

Customs of community, social behavior, unmet
Uncultivated flower, civilized, not as yet
There truth be told, she's merely a weed
Insidiously she’ll produce treacherous seed

The rose, the lily, ones of upper class, high prestige
Take preference over her and therefore precede
Forbidden to attend such a formal garden estate
In the wild you can feast upon her golden plate

Comely to some, but outcast, in the eyes of elite
Due to their exalted standards she does not meet
Gathering her bedding amongst the lower class
Happiness, contentment exceeds, expectations surpass

Her position carries not reign upon pedestals high
Nor does she seek exaltation in the platinum sky
Illuminations of life, destiny cries as a silvery lake
A silhouette, shadow brought forth by light to make

Beauty rides down the path on chariots of love
Grain of sand, a pearl forms, grayish white sphere of
Whispers in the cross winds of riches untold
Found lying beneath, in Wildflower's Heart Of Gold

Patricia A Moore
July 24 2010

Lambaste

Sleep was not to be, my dearest companion at night
I played the game, toss-n-turn, my bed I did fight
Why would it evade, does not it hear my call
Am I always active, not in a dormant state at all

Waiting for its arrival ,praying please make haste
But seldom will it come,leaveing me to feel lambaste
I’m a would-be sleeper, always wishing that I could
Communication with me and sleep,sadly misunderstood

I lay on my pillow, counting cute little sheep, O’ my
Remembering the time, I use to get some shut eye
What I think I’ll do now, is pull out my dear ole gun
Start shooting those sheep, that's constantly on the run

Would not that be nice, a leg of lamb or lamb chops
Then the sheep would think twice,next time, better stop!
Dancing in the air, performing their lovely theatrical show
Was delicious tasty mutton,over and over my head they go

Although we could get along together, plenty of fine
If they would quit running, through my poor weary mind
Whosoever came up,with the idea of counting sheep
Must of lost more than enough, Good night sleep!!!

Patricia A Moore
March 28 2010

Shades Of The Past

Pain acknowledged, in the deep woods of the heart
Told by dredged up phases, following life’s event
Hurt harbored inward, a destroyer causes destruction
Leaving its marked victim, totally emotionally spent

Captured in the spider web, overcome to weary struggle
Relinquishing a few rights, shedding tears of the eye
Entangled by threads woven, sounds of heart spoken
As in spring waters flowing, from the mountain cry

Tall trees cast shadows of murky darkness, ominous gloom
When a forlorn feeling attempts to engulf the feeble soul
Shades of the past welter forth, Till spirit lies drenched
Abysmal misery forming an immeasurable depth of hole

Trapped in a maze ,bewildered in the deepness of woods
Asking God to lift torment to some extent, a certain degree
Trudging the blazing trail of the all consuming fiery abyss
Left to bear, yet walking with God, the path from tree to tree

Reliance totally upon God, whom also beared pain of the woods
Thoughts of whys or the wherefores are hard to understand
Anguish of rejection, physical or mental agony, death of one loved
When dealing with heart matters, in the deep woods of man.

Patricia A Moore
March 15, 2010