I don't share a lot of poetry I've written, mainly those pertaining to the Lord and His things. Please add any appropriate works you wish! In a way everything I write is about Him. I remember sharing some in Middle school and bring accused of not writing them myself. I went underground after that supposing that writing poetry was something for a man to be ashamed of, not macho like drinking, fighting and all the world's proofs of "manhood". Nonsense. If God gives you something then share it. It might help someone. Amen
I love old homesteads and farm places. In my travels I see them sitting abandoned and wonder about those who dwelt there.
Country Grey houses
by Frank Lee Jennings
ca 1997
by Frank Lee Jennings
I see them often as I go by
Screen door ragged and torn
Country gray houses against the sky
Guarded by soldiers of corn
An old tin roof just rusting away
Old flower beds covered in vines
Old windows all broken in disrepair
garden all grown up in pines
The old windmill still turns sometimes
When a summer storm blows up a gale
Then the barn loft door clacks back and forth And the tin roof clatters with hail
No rooster now crows at the dawning of day
No cattle now low in the stalls
No puppies or children now frolic around
No old clock to chime from the hall
How long has in been since the dinner bell rang
And the father came in from the field?
and table was set by the Mother’s kind hands
As the family sat down for a meal?
Jonquils yet bloom along the roadside
Planted there such a long time ago
By Father and Mother just starting out
Just setting out on life’s road
When was the last time the screen door slammed
And children ran out to play,
While Father and Mother sat in a porch swing
At the sun setting end of the day?
old houses do speak, though they have no breath
With a voice as gray as can be
They tell of their life, of the life lived in them
They, speak and I listen, you see
Sometimes I hear them as I pass by
Gray houses with old caved in wells
Talking gray houses against the sky
Houses with stories to tell
So plainly I know this in a moment of time
Just the time that it takes to go by
Life love and living in a country gray house
Resting silent against the gray sky
I love old homesteads and farm places. In my travels I see them sitting abandoned and wonder about those who dwelt there.
Country Grey houses
by Frank Lee Jennings
ca 1997
by Frank Lee Jennings
I see them often as I go by
Screen door ragged and torn
Country gray houses against the sky
Guarded by soldiers of corn
An old tin roof just rusting away
Old flower beds covered in vines
Old windows all broken in disrepair
garden all grown up in pines
The old windmill still turns sometimes
When a summer storm blows up a gale
Then the barn loft door clacks back and forth And the tin roof clatters with hail
No rooster now crows at the dawning of day
No cattle now low in the stalls
No puppies or children now frolic around
No old clock to chime from the hall
How long has in been since the dinner bell rang
And the father came in from the field?
and table was set by the Mother’s kind hands
As the family sat down for a meal?
Jonquils yet bloom along the roadside
Planted there such a long time ago
By Father and Mother just starting out
Just setting out on life’s road
When was the last time the screen door slammed
And children ran out to play,
While Father and Mother sat in a porch swing
At the sun setting end of the day?
old houses do speak, though they have no breath
With a voice as gray as can be
They tell of their life, of the life lived in them
They, speak and I listen, you see
Sometimes I hear them as I pass by
Gray houses with old caved in wells
Talking gray houses against the sky
Houses with stories to tell
So plainly I know this in a moment of time
Just the time that it takes to go by
Life love and living in a country gray house
Resting silent against the gray sky
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