From Her Beautiful, Beautiful Body

From her beautiful, beautiful body
I turn to her bountiful soul,
And walk as I have desired to walk –
One step at a time – and laugh, love, and cry
As I have desired these, and breathe freely.

Copyright Glenn D. Horne, 2017

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The Horseman

A horseman came a-riding in,
A-riding in the morning;
A horseman came a-riding in,
A-riding in the morning.

The horseman did the town surround
To hear the horseman’s story.
He wailed, then slid from off his mount
And fell beneath an awning.

A horseman came a-riding in,
A-riding in the morning;
A horseman came a-riding in,
A-riding in the morning.

The doctor noted he was sick,
So sick he wasn’t talking:
“I’ve failed to learn what’s wrong with him,
So sick that he’s not talking.”

The horseman lifted up his vest,
Revealing skin appalling:
“The plague!” The town all drew a breath
And died that very morning.

Copyright Glenn D. Horne, 2017

The Dreams of My Father

(With a nod to outgoing U.S. president, Barack Obama)

 

In the misty rain,

I see the apple tree –

the tree which my father said would not grow,

but which grew;

the tree which my father said would not bear fruit,

but which bore fruit.

 

I am this tree.

 

I feel the air,

cool and moist;

I hear birds

chirping in my boughs;

I look up, down, and all around –

I see the dreams of my father.

 

(Copyright Glenn D. Horne, 2015)