Category Archives: Poetry

Far Away

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person standing near lake

Photo by Lukas Rychvalsky on Pexels.com

Life in a shell,

A truth for a nail,

Pieces of each,

Kills us slow as a snail.

We have kids,

Wish them the best,

Give what we can,

They end up in a mess.

Galactic heroes,

Avenger want to be’s,

Ironman crusades,

And life’s must see’s.

Not all kids are bad,

Not all are too blame,

Some live a life,

As if it were a game.

Drugs can kill,

Or even worse,

Keep you a live,

Until you wish you were.

What does a parent do?

What can a parent say?

When closed ears abound,

In a life so far away.

Childhood

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Childhood

by Cleve Sylcox

Today I went,
Back in time.
To a place,
With many rhymes.

To my childhood,
Laying upon a hill.
Watching clouds drift by,
I got a chill.

Tall trees swayed and waved,
At the clouds as they made their way.

Birds chased bugs,
Bees did hum,
Grasshoppers hopped,
Chewing their gum.

I laid in the grass,
For many hours,
Watching clouds,
As they towered.

Giraffes and elephants,
Floated by,
Dragons breathing fire,
Burning the sky.

I hated to leave,
To get up and go,
But I’m old man,
With no seeds to sow.

I made my way,
Into the house,
Where I wrote,
About a mouse.

But on occasion,
I stared and watched the clouds,
Thought about life on the hill,
And cried out loud.

In The Autumn of Life

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Senior couple enjoy the sunset together

In the Autumn of Life
© By Cleve Sylcox

In the Autumn of life,
When we turn gray,
And all those little wrinkles,
Never fade away.

We find meaning in the Sunrise,
And purpose in the sunset,
The grass feels softer,
The water feels wet.

In the Autumn of life,
We find new in the old,
Toss out the trash,
And we become bold.

It isn’t that the world has changed,
It isn’t that people are strange,
It is that our eyes are open,
And see a wider range.

Old important things give way,
To the new important things,
Like bugs, and snakes,
And birds on the wing.

White Lace

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White Lace
©Cleve Sylcox

Snow falls on windowpane,
Fire roars in its place,
But my love is far away,
Adorned in white lace.

I wait for her restlessly,
With empty arms I cry,
I long to be near her,
As I pass the day by and by.

I dream of her sleeping,
In a white lace night-gown,
Her head on soft pillows,
While I wear a salty frown.

She will be home soon,
This I pray,
Because I cannot wait,
Yet another day.

The Wandering Soul

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The Wandering Soul

He was so young,
When he left home.
Forced to work,
And forever roam.

From town to town,
The young man Lived,
Never to discover,
What he did.

He lives in a world,
That is all his own,
No one may enter,
He likes it alone.

On a rainy night,
He lost his life,
A fellow traveler,
Used a blunted knife.

Forever free now,
His sprit does comb,
Looking for love,
And warm place to call home.

©Cleve Sylcox