Little Thought Big Story (poem) by Walter LaVerne Jones on AuthorsDen

Little Thought Big Story
by Walter LaVerne Jones → (All Poetry by Walter LaVerne Jones)
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Where and when did it stop or was it the end of the tail.
Hell hath the fury of anything that man dare give Pick and find your questions true me versus you Silence rings in the land man sings Peacock that he claims to be In the land of the free A heart for sale That is what we see Trigger on the gun who will win who will dropped by less than Could be a ten to one ounce of melting lead trouble word said Silver bells a voice and note to tell I hope all is well on your new years eve Land wind and snow firer flight and go The soldier looks toward home Trouble in her heart that is where pain starts Bottle tipped back loses his hat as all the life his face runs read Blood or booze either way you loose as always a itch of life Some are getting to go to warm bed rest tired head Slip past the guard and find a heart not so hard Wish I had made friend or two a good enemy Loves you to be free of spirit and soul Child of mercy light comes to spend the night Tremble in your safe bed under covers buried your head Taste the best of all that lived inside a wasted life Wind of trees breaks dawn like tired bees Humming sweet melody to forest lost to sleep Drip of running brook never looks a quiet stream Sullen example stands a question of man and wife Love from heaven pours down in love developed Keep the crown for some one new it truly does not fit you Example of the hue that gives back a king few once knew Silence rings in the land man sings Peacock that he claims to be In the land of the free A heart for sale That is what we see Fingers dance and demons sing but I tell you all one thing Earth takes more than man gives in return a blessing yet to learn Which is you Which is me Neither can see Fresh earth covers Our dying souls Hell hath the fury of anything that man dare give Pick and find your questions true me versus you Silence rings in the land man sings Peacock that he claims to be In the land of the free A heart for sale That is what we see Trigger on the gun who will win who will dropped by less than Could be a ten to one ounce of melting lead trouble word said Silver bells a voice and note to tell I hope all is well on your new years eve Land wind and snow firer flight and go The soldier looks toward home Trouble in her heart that is where pain starts Bottle tipped back loses his hat as all the life his face runs read Blood or booze either way you loose as always a itch of life Some are getting to go to warm bed rest tired head Slip past the guard and find a heart not so hard Wish I had made friend or two a good enemy Loves you to be free of spirit and soul Child of mercy light comes to spend the night Tremble in your safe bed under covers buried your head Taste the best of all that lived inside a wasted life Wind of trees breaks dawn like tired bees Humming sweet melody to forest lost to sleep Drip of running brook never looks a quiet stream Sullen example stands a question of man and wife Love from heaven pours down in love developed Keep the crown for some one new it truly does not fit you Example of the hue that gives back a king few once knew Silence rings in the land man sings Peacock that he claims to be In the land of the free A heart for sale That is what we see Fingers dance and demons sing but I tell you all one thing Earth takes more than man gives in return a blessing yet to learn Which is you Which is me Neither can see Fresh earth covers Our dying souls

Reviewed by Tinka Boukes

Reviewed on December 29, 2004

Very well written piece Walter!!

Happy New Year!!

Love Tinka

Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)

Reviewed on December 28, 2004

Carl Sandburg said that the grass covers all even the dead where they fall. Yes you wrote a big story but then none truly appreciate the truth do they. Nice to see you posting here.

Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson

Enjoyed....like the way put gave it to us again
it really helps
:)

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

A very big story, indeed. A few words slipped out too soon. A few meant to be slipped. Understood some. Not all.

Ron