Poetry

The Rails

As children the parallel rails led to many of our destinations, On them we played without the slightest hesitation.

We’d run, jumping every other tie. So much fun, you know why?

The rails were forbidden, from us their joys no longer hidden.

On the rails a penny pressed flat, remember that?

Below the rails a cave like dwelling, my siblings would hide and I’d say, “I’m telling!”.

On the other side lie Tank Pond, of this place I wasn’t fond.

My siblings would go fast as could be, I’d scream “wait for me.”

One day on the way to school, my sister had an idea I thought was cool.

We’d lie on the ties against the rails as by us the train sails.

One time is all it took, now I’d play it by the book.

The rails thereafter had one rule, they were only to be followed to school.

Poetry

Where The Green Grass Grows

Water your lawn that it might grow, come to life as if tending ones soul.

Pay no attention to the neighboring blades of grass, the green doesn’t always last.

Some days wilted and pale, “Help!” I hear the neighboring grass yell.

I ignore it as many times before, I beg of you to tend your lawn more.

Add a bit of sun and a little water, tend it as if it were a daughter.

The neighboring grass is quite a sight, yet being there does not feel right.

Tend your own pastures, lawns and gardens, tell you neighbor 1,000 pardons.

I’m sorry if often I stray, God keep me on your path I pray.

The neighboring blades of grass entice with the afternoon sun staring back at me, I am wise to its tricks you see.

In your own yard take a little pride, the grass is not always greener on the other side.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

The Bouquet

The Bouquet is full and bright, on this God has surely shone his light.

Geraniums crimson red, the color of the blood His son shed.

Suzy she is a black eyed lady, there isn’t a thing about her shady.

The Mandeville bursting with pink blooms, heavy with buds it’s stems loom.

With petals as fine as paper machete, the poppy has come out to play.

The cornflower in the deepest blue, is always staring at you.

Then tiny but true is the one called baby blue.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

Imperfection

Imperfect we were meant to be, so our flaws he could see.

Each of us made unique, so the Savior we would seek.

I have scars that will never heal, imperfect the make me feel.

No one notices nor cares, that someone’s mark my face bares.

These lesions I hide well, to look you cannot tell.

It’s no birth defect-I am not blemished, with me He is not finished.

Poetry

Temptation

The urge to do things not good for oneself, always wanting what is high upon the Shelf.

There are reasons these items are Out Of Reach, taking of them a lesson they shall teach.

These things entice with their Shimmer and shine, all I want is to make them mine.

All That Glitters Is Gold, what age were you when this you were told.

As the devil has his horns, so does the beautiful roses have thorns.

Things you weren’t meant to have, like a Band-Aid to your salve

This is a feeling not real, these Band-Aids cannot heal.

Keep your eyes focused in front of you to say the least, temptation it is a Beast.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

Anaya

Anaya

She is the CatBoy to my Owlette,
Unless you watch PJMasks that you won’t get.
Today she is Rainbow Dash with lightning speed.
Off to help someone in need.
Later she will be Babs,
Which is fitting cause she gabs.
She is so smart it amazes me,
Something I struggled to be.
Constantly making me smile,
With her personality and style.
She likes to be in charge, Her attitude always at large.
If I do something wrong,
She always lets me know.
A joy she truly is to watch grow. Jill L. Ware

Playing trouble with Anaya at the cabin
Poetry

Beauty and Her Beast

If you aren’t someone she sees almost ever day,

With you her monster likely won’t play.

If she cares for you even the slightest bit,

Out of nowhere her monster you might get.

She tries to keep him on a short chain,

All the while inside her he’s raising Cain.

For no reason at all,

Out of her he crawls.

Like a lion you will hear his roar,

Have you seen him before?

For those that love her it is a blessing and a curse.

You’ve seen her better, seen her worse.

She is confusing to say the least,

A beauty living with her beast.

Poetry

Adalyn Rose Marie

My beautiful granddaughter Adalyn Rose,

Means more to me than she even knows.

Out of her mouth comes the darnedest things,

There is nothing better than when she sings.

She has style, she has flare,

When we are together we are quite the pair.

Sometimes she can be just a bit mean,

And a lot of times a drama queen.

I wish I had her dance moves,

With the music she always grooves.

I can’t imagine a life without her in it,

The love we have I pray she will never forget.

One day I will be gone like the grandmothers before me,

Her beautiful face forever in my mind it will always be.

I will see her again someday,

And forever in Heaven Barbies we will play.

Grandma Jill Loves You!

Blog, He Is So Not Like Me, Poetry

He Is So Not Like Me

I have loved him since the day he was conceived, the joy he brought me I’d never believe.

His personality was that of a clown, lifting me up when I was down.

He was terrified to go on stage, which got much better with age.

Eventually I left his dad, It was the worst feeling I ever had.

Joint custody was not for me, forever changed our life would be.

Me his mother you would never guess, what a beautiful mess.

Drums, guitar, piano are just a few, of the many things he can do.

He is smarter than I ever was, excellent at all he does.

He will never know the love I carry in me, forever in my heart he will always be.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry, young love

Young Love

Those lips and how they made me feel,

Never had anything felt so real,

Thoughts of you pour like rain.

I’d sell my soul to taste them once again.

I visit you in my dreams.

We, you’ve forgotten it seems.

I don’t fight them anymore,         

Are you just as you were before,

I prayed one day I’d be your wife,

And with you i would spend my life,

Together we had been.

Our love destined not to win.

It lives on in my memories,

I miss you when no one sees.

Jill L. Ware