heartinhand, Audrey Parker [book series for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

Tears of the Doves

There was a girl, who slept under a willow,
With the vines all covered in garland,
The clover meadow, and the doves all around her,
Made it a scene like Ireland.

The brown dress that she wore was plain,
But in it she looked so grand,
She could be taken for an angel,
But instead she slept on the land.

The young doves all approached her,
And were refurnished, one-by-one,
They matured at her touch,
But to them it was only fun.

Then the girl awoke,
And startled was she.
She swiped at the doves,
She had mistaken them for bees.

She arose in her simple dress,
And she brushed off her arms and shook out her gown.
The doves fell away,
And on the ground, watched her frown.

The girl left after that,
With the meadow’s captivation long gone.
She turned on her heels,
And fled like a fawn.

With her leaving, the meadow caved in on itself,
The clover turned dried,
The willow turned shrunken,
And the doves, then always cried.

The Sinister Old House

The gate is arrows,
Ranking next to the strange house,
They whine, ‘keep away.’
A wolf howls in the distance,
Answering the moon’s calling.

Sneak, sneak, and sneak around.
without a sound.
Silent footsteps on the ground.

The city reeks of persecution.
An immoral sensation.
One of domination.

Hidden children play inside.
While tyrants have a guide.
And the citizens wonder, why?

Why sneak around,
without a sound,
with silent footsteps on the ground?

Why not fight?
This slight,
but tight,
nation?


Five Feathers

Feathers
Slick and shiny
Prisoners to the wind
Brings good luck and optimism
White speck


Mirror

The Janus-face
in front of me
is the superb dealer.
With his
overriding vanity,
the reflective glint in his eye,
and his blank-as-a-board
pokerface,
the way to learn
his secrets isn’t through
speech.
Though he can’t speak,
or thouch,
or hear,
or smell,
his eyes see everything.




Shadows on the Walls

Shadows lurking,
Drawing closer,
With every step they take,
And every turn they make.

Their bodies collide,
Their forms take shape,
They wonder if its best
To take what’s coming next.

But the decisions are made for them.


Snake

Slithering, writhing,
scaling over rough ground.
No arms, no legs,
to help him get around.

With the world at him stomach,
and diamonds on his back,
he slips off his skin,
and hunts for a snack


Tiny fingers
grasp on to mine.
I pull gently,
but his small and pudgy hand
has a surprisingly tight grip.
The infant begins to blubber.
his mouth crumples
and his eyes crease into slits.
The first whine appears,
but I’m ready with the bottle.
His tiny eyelids
shutter over his cornflower blue irises.
And his mouth purses
into cupid’s bow lips
as he falls into dreamland.
Beautiful baby.


My body may be caught in weeds,
though my spirit never wavers.
But it might be paved over
in the speed of the waters.

My ears are selective, my eyesight impaired.
My mind wonders if they even cared
about the hurts they had to spare.

In a sea of people, I grasp only three.
Two to push me, one to pull.
One to capture, two to hold.

One speaks,
Three hear.
Two listen,
The third isn’t there.

My mind wanders far away.
Another city,
another day.

But I wonder who I am.
Who they think I am,
who I truly am.

They see me.
They know me.
Three people
in this sea of people.

Publication Date: 11-12-2011

All Rights Reserved