Sunday, September 19th, 2021

Daily Selected Poems : Michael Goodwin

Michael Goodwin   |   Sunday, 19 September 2021 | Print

Daily Selected Poems : Michael Goodwin

Michael Goodwin

THE SEEDLING

.
Would we die like the flowers
on heaven’s golden hills
and sing with the bluebirds
in meadows, so still
and sail across oceans before we can see
the love that is waiting
for you and for me…

For the stream that we follow
Is twisted and turned
and filled with the tears
that each one has learned
will we swim with the dolphins forever to be
the love that is waiting
for you and for me…

And the leaf that has fallen
Is never alone
and always together
our beauty has grown
would we lie with the seedling and grow with the tree
In love that is waiting
for you and for me…

And I’ll wait for you down by the wishing tree
where all of our dreams come true
and we’ll never go back to the lies we have left
and I’ll always be true to you
and we’ll watch for the nightfall
when candles are lit
and stomach the moods of the moon
and if love shall be broken, it never was ours
for only our time came too soon
and we’ll swim in the passion that took us away
to lands that are blessed by the Sun
and I’ll love you and hold you and say you are mine
’till all of the night time is done
and I’ll meet you tonight by the wishing tree
for innocent eyes can be true
and we’ll never go back to the lies we have left
and I’ll always be true to you
I’ll always be true to you…

.
……………………………………………………
.

A RAINY DAY

 

Would we ever know of laughter
till the end of time has come
for we looked upon each other
at the rising of the Sun
and no one thought of everything
yet we see the battle won
and we watch the final curtain drawn
will this just be the day
and still we gaze along the shore
without new words to say
and love has come and taken us
and all our dreams away
and I wondered can love see us know
upon this rainy day…
And the wind grows tall and spreads the leaves
and the valley turns to dust
and the fields are wet and worn and pale
and filled with wanderlust
and heaven seems so far away
as we fall towards the light
and only hope has words to say
as day becomes the night
and I hold your hand and turn your way
and look in eyes so clear
did I give to you my only love
or shelter from my fears
for love has come and taken us
and all our dreams away
and I wondered can love see us now
upon this rainy day…
And the rain it falls and fills the stream
where dreams were left to seed
and thorns are stood upon the shore
another day to bleed
and I see the light upon the skies
that calls us from above
and shows us where to sow the dream
and tells us how to love
and I look at tears upon your eyes
where beauty falls my way
and love has come and taken us
and all our dreams away
and I wondered can love see us now
upon this rainy day
would love be sure to see us now
upon this rainy day…

……………………………………………..

THE MISSION BELL

 

My love, she waits by the sycamore tree
with her eyes so soft and so brown
and she sings with the blackbird at earliest dawn
spreading her love all around
and she whispers so softly and calls out my name
and I’m drawn to the touch of her spell
for love is the poet who writes down the words
and love is the mission bell…
And we speak of the daybreak and hearts that are lost
and we walk upon valleys and hills
and the silence is beauty wrapped in her smile
as the wind calls so gentle and still
will she love me tomorrow and love me today
as the blossom it falls on the dell
for love is the poet who writes down the words
and love is the mission bell…
And I know of her longings and I know of her fear
for the nightingale sings in the dark
and I touch her so tender and hold her so near
yet something would keep us apart
would the eyes of the raven tell us our fate
or dreams that she never could tell
for love is the poet who writes down the words
and love is the mission bell…
And my love, she waits by the sycamore tree
and walks through the mists of her soul
Is it love that has broken her pretty brown eyes
and left her so sweet and alone
and I look till I find her to hold her so close
Is love but a promise we sell?
for love is the poet who writes down the words
and love is the mission bell
and love is the mission bell…

.

Copyright@Michael Goodwin

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Posted 10:15 am | Sunday, 19 September 2021

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