He's like the lightning in the sky each time I feel it near. The beauty of its pretty color sinks beneath my fear.
Words, thoughts, chasing shadows.
Things heavy on my mind.
There are no answers for the questions.
The days are left behind.
The pen runs with the ink.
The paper waits to relay.
Do the words have Your permission?
What are they allowed to say?
Weary, scared, confused,
The world wonders what to do.
The pen needs to write the message,
God loves you!
10.21.2020 Wednesday
written by Gail Brookshire
It’s not been so long ago that we took a stretch along this beach.
We walked along the sands until the sun rose in the east.
Wading through the waters, we would share secrets of ourselves.
Dreaming of how the world could change with only our help.
You even gave a thought to me of how you would like to be.
A poet of the literature, creating the warmest poetry.
Your dream is carrying on with me, yet you were cheated short
Of a life you were to retire from at the “death of youth” port.
So when I hear of the ghost who walks the sands,
I remember the soul with whom I held hands.
12-21-1989
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: him
Oh thoughts where are you?
When you are the one who calls?
Why do you escape me so?
Why do you build these walls?
You persist and pursue.
You plead for just a minute.
But if I take the time to reflect,
There is nothing in it.
Why do you speak out?
Why do you shout at me?
Why do you deceive my eyes
If you do not want me to see?
Exhausted, I retreat
And wait for a clearer day.
I cannot understand
What I cannot hear you say.
8-4-17 Friday
written by Gail Brookshire
gaillovesgodspoetry 