Once green and firm,
she danced,
on the boughs edge.
Whirling and dipping,
through the breezes,
of changing seasons.
She basked,
in hot summer suns.
Rejoicing in the adulation,
heaped upon her,
as she selfishly,
provided shade,
and shelter
to all who sought it.
Asking for nothing,
needing no one.
Autumn days,
stroked her ego,
into maturity.
transforming her,
into the envy of
artists and poets,
sages and prophets,
wise men and clerics.
But the chill of winter’s age,
dried and wrinkled her,
she fell,
dying.
Until all that remains,
of her once majestic existence,
is a final crumbling gasp,
under the heels of,
marching boots.
Author: Jerry Brotherton
I am The Backyard Poet and I warn you that, not only will I ramble on about nothing but, I have been known to stand upon my soapbox and rant about things I care nothing about just to hear the sound of my own voice. I will try to force my opinion upon anyone willing to pay the slightest attention.
A Drive Around My Hometown
The house I was born in,
used to stand right here.
I was just one more hungry child
destined to grow old and die.
Right here in this schoolyard,
I learned life’s valuable lessons.
The more you have,
the more you get,
the more you want.
Here’s the church,
that taught me,
no one cared,
about lost souls.
Only how much,
is in the collection,
plate.
This is the highway,
where I found out,
if I went too far.
I would never,
make it back.
No matter how hard I try
What a Whopper
She wanted to know where the limit lies
when it came to manhood and the size
trying to compare
she had to stop and stare
at the one that took first prize
#1546 Limerick by Jerry Brotherton
Jerry Brotherton 