The First Snow

 They spiral down the sky like cotton
 So light, dancing and twirling in circles
 Creating a cheerful note that spreads
 With the winds. The city roads are a maze of
 Rutted white interspersed with greyish
 Sandy marks of footsteps and hasty
 Signatures of motorcycles, bicycles
 And cars making their purposeful rides
 To all corners of the city. The rail system
 Normally running smoothly hits a hitch,
 The tracks snow covered needing a shove.
 The city suddenly turns out a parade
 Of mundane coloured umbrellas,
 Leather coats and bags, a monotony made
 Less intrusive only by the tasteful choice of
 Exotic scarfs folded snugly around
 Each neck.  The snow falling gently
 All over, creating a scene so dear to
 An artist who if sufficiently inspired could
 Probably turn out his magnum opus to marvel the world!

Life Is Not What A Dreamer Dreams

Senders email: omitted

I had a visit from an Angel,
He came to me in a dream,
His appearance quite scared me ,
I felt that I could scream.
He wasn't the vision of an Angel,
 He wasn't dressed in white,
 He hadn't feathered wings upon his back,
Nor he didn't appear ghostlike.

He was just like any ordinary guy,
And it never occurred to me to ask him why?
He beckoned me towards him,
I went with fear and dread,
He took my hands in his hands,
Looked at me and said.
" Don't be afraid, I am here to help you see,
That Life is not what a dreamer dreams,
It's much more different than it seems,
My mission is to show you what Life is all about.
And to take you on a journey to help you figure it out".

Suddenly I felt myself drifting up towards the sky,
I could see the clouds below me,
 as we floated up on high.
He took to some paces were others fear to go,
For the people live there in fear, of cruelty, terrorism and war.

Onwards and upwards once again,
This time to a place that seldom sees rain,
The people are starving, sick and dying, All around the children are crying,
Scavenging to ground for a few grains to eat,
To help their hunger pains to deplete.

We went to place, filled with opulence, greed and lust,
 The site of all this prosperity, filled me with disgust.
 I had just seen folk dying of poverty and starvation,
Whilst others war, terror, and abomination.

This was reality, the truth, the fact,
I felt I couldn't take anymore,
So I begged him to take me back, back to the land of dreams.
For a dreamers dream is fantasy, and not of true life it seems.
I will always be grateful to that Angel, for showing me the way.
To take Life as it comes, regarding what may come my way,
 Or how wearisome it may be.
For somewhere in this great big world,
There will be someone, somewhere, much worse off than me.


Accounting For Christmas

Tally the sales, keep them right
Santa is watching, arriving TONIGHT
Checking his books, total them to
Recording the payments, balances due;
Post to the ledger, do it right quick
Gaze out the window, watch for St. Nick.

Inventory counting, that you MUST do
Receivables, payables, invoices too;
Balance the bank, get ready go
Work out the taxes, don't be too slow.

Eight tiny reindeer, prance on the snow
Ledgers together, their ready to go
The postings are finished, books put away
Closed for the holidays, it's Christmas Day;
Healthy and happy with Christmas Cheer
We wish you a prosperous and good bsusiness year!


 © octoberschild1947    @

Hues of gray-violet caress the soft cheek of the sky,
a cold, dead cheek, with lips of dusk blue.
The humid summer air still lingers,
and a soft wind rustles through the dead leaves.
They struggle all day against the murderous sun,
to keep their lively green.
But they lay limp and tired,
as does the grass brown and broken.
I take in this dead peace as a poem in its own,
and it's almost as if God dipped his paintbrush
into my heart,
and with glorious strokes of destructive creation,
painted the world the cold color that is me.

Shaun Michael Carraway

©2004 Shaun Michael Carraway


The First Snow 1f212120                 Life Is Not What A Dreamer Dreams 1f212120

Accounting For Christmas 1f212120           Serene? 1f212120

A special thank you to the poets that read guidelines
and contribute lovely work.

Best of 2004