There was a dirt road that is now paved There sits a house where the tree line fades Through its doors I do not know Who walks the halls beside my ghost?
On a tree right down the road A cross is nailed and the oak tree bows On a cross tattered and dim Reads my name-- never forgotten
Beneath my feet once powdered brown Green grass grows all around Except one spot where dead grass lay Evidence of other days Through the glass- between the blinds Bottom the sound of whistling chimes Into my room I glanced to check If my room was clean and not left a mess But where clothes once lay-- a different boy plays And on his mind it does not weigh Who walks these halls beside my ghost?
Still 2000 miles to go and the men are dressed in rags But the horses are still fit and strong, still eager yet to run Sony Jim you'll ride the drag for you are the youngest here And before this day is out you'll be crying for your mum Eight hours in the saddle with but one change of horse Your body thick with dust and cowshit A voice now harsh and coarse Charlie, Len, you'll ride the flanks for I need them held in tight And when we hit the camping ground you'll be my riders in the night The cows are getting thirsty but waters still ten miles away But still we must stop and rest them at the dying of the day Len, Charlie ride softly found the herd Sing or whistle a gentle song The rest of you now sleep close by, reins tied to your hand Keep your horses saddled, keep your boots on tight For you all might be required to ride like madmen in the night UP, Up for they are up and running free You've got to reach the head and turn them Before they crash down on the scree Close in, close in and get the head to turn Force them to the centre force the head to wheel But a man and horse are down and trampled in the dust But before he died he turned the herd and very few were lost First light and we ride out to find our fallen friend Alas it was poor Sony Jim, just sixteen years of age Yes Sony gave his life doing what he loved Nobody ever forced him to ride the drivers road
Have times really changed that much, Since the crucifixion of The Christ? People still discuss personal opinions, Looking to find meanings within life – With some reference point, relative to Him.
Are we any different than Cleopas, When we latch onto Christ's name, Desiring our prayers to be answered, Hoping never to be spiritually the same? Are we able to sing new songs and hymns?
How are we occupying the time of our lives? Are we on the road, speaking with strangers, Expecting to bump into a hidden Christ or... Angels that keep us from unforeseen dangers? Are we just waiting for life to wear thin?
How much longer will denominational tenets Keep us from the necessary work at hand? When will we fully focus on the coming Kingdom And stop searching for the “Promised Land”? When will we stop - gossiping about Him?
Are we on the outskirts of a similar town, Unknowingly headed in the wrong direction, Arguing the debate of what faith is, Without reaching a level of maturation? Will we continue to remain - estranged from Him?
Author Notes:
Loosely based on: Luke 24: 13-35
Learn more about me and my poetry at: Http: //www. squidoo. com/book-isbn-1419650513/
It felt like I was walkin swift, Out in snowy drift My thumb stickin out, Just lookin for a lift and I'm going on and on Along this icy road, where Nobody should be driving and There's not a single flower thriving, Just a sorry soul stuck diving Into vacuous space, with A deadpan face an Intricate lace, and a Now unhurried pace Shuffle shuffle Thumb down
A single thread, Black thin and bare Floating adrift, In starlit air Unattached
A single layer, Not enough
Cold pink hands In bottomless pockets, Filled with keys to lost lockets With tick tocks and tickets, bits of Tobacco, and crumpled up paper
So lift yourself to lift the veil, But lift yourself to no avail, and It's no matter if you succeed or fail
It's a silly serpent biting it's own tail. It has no need for anything else.
Within the parallel road I chose both Sank in the middle of junction Unreachable now even a single road Just sleeping... Over the nightmares Reflections of guilt Possibly May be
... . .
Trust within True imagination Wake up Don't give up ...
With every road There often leaves a trail Some are led to darkness Whereas, others prevail We as people, must put ourselves In the right frame of mind If we are not cautious We may be left in a bind
