Mrs Shannon

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  • Emotional

    Mrs Shannon
    I used to sit under a barren plum tree
    Bruised forehead and silent tongue

    The events of a lifetime yet untendered
    Large dreams and swollen heart I anticipated

    Scar tissue ahead a broken red Huffy behind
    Sixteen inches of impotent tubular steel

    Mrs Shannon would bring me cool lemonade
    Her motherly scent floating on the breeze

    Often she would sit and share my tree
    And sing soft sweet Eyre lullabyes

    Sad tales of butterflies and broken hearts
    As if she could foretell my fate


    James Mathew Simmons

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    JamesMS’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Fall of a Dream 1 07/19/2009
    Always 0 07/19/2009
    I am 0 07/19/2009
    Of Collisions and Clarity 0 05/17/2009
    Mrs Shannon 0 05/17/2009
    MR. 0 05/16/2009
    Etchings 0 05/16/2009
    Elixir 0 05/16/2009
    Desolation 0 05/15/2009
    Blood Moon 1 05/15/2009
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