Then The Rain Came

I haven’t written any poetry for what seems to be months! It has been a difficult and busy time in my life, but dealing with that in the right way has opened new avenues of creativity…so I hope anyone who reads this will enjoy it!

All the hands were turning,

The wrong way for some

As summer whispered her cruel secret.

Most can’t see

The leaves will fall this year,

Still green,

And the oppressive sky

Will squeeze the secrets out of all of us.

Then the rain will come;

I must learned that saying goodbye 

Is not just for other men…

And I fear I will cry God’s tears that day.

Monty Grant’s Poetry 2012.

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The High Life.

Her Dull and weathered state of mind, Oppressed by clouds of modern times.
Caged by steel and concrete towers
Her depression darkens hour by hour;
The beauty of life and country sour.

The elevator has made a stand
And sworn defiance by raise of hand,
So on to hell upon weary feet
To hide from life under filthy sheets-
A fatherless burden, her maker meets.
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