Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Coyotesong

A motley band of brothers are we
A scraggly, raggedy crew.
And we gather tonight
In the silver moonlight
Just to sing out our anthem to you!

The owls and mice are our audience
For conductor, we look to the breeze
The grass and the sage
Are our deserty stage
And for harmony we have the bees.

A song without words to write down here
A melody without a tune
And we lift up our cry
To the black velvet sky
As we sing out our hearts to the moon.

We’ve sung since those times long forgotten
And we’ll sing ’til forever has gone
This music unchanged,
And yet never the same
From sunset right up until dawn. 

So just shut your eyes tight and listen
Just breathe in and don’t say a word
Remember our song
And we’ll sing it as long
As we know that somebody has heard.


~ © Andrea Grace

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

In the Middle of December

Summer breezes in December carry scents of candy canes
For a moment there you wonder if it isn’t rather strange.
Lovely weather in the middle of what should be winter’s chill
Only here in Colorado have we summer breezes still!
Just a week ago the wind, it was completely different here
The frigid Arctic blasts that we should have this time of year
And I donned my fluffy socks, and much hot chocolate did I drink
And I looked outside the window, many gloomy thoughts to think.
I guess I’d just forgotten that the spring must come again
Guess I didn’t quite remember there’s an end to winter’s reign.
And the middle of December (who’d have thought it? who’d have known?)
Has conspired just to show me it’s got beauty of its own
So I won’t lose hope for springtime, and I won’t wish winter gone
Just remember to enjoy it as the year goes marching on
Summer breezes in December and the promises they make
Dancing winds that tell of springtime and the season Earth awakes
Fragrant zephyrs bringing sunshine and no hint of winter’s chill
Only here in Colorado have we summer breezes still!

~ © Andrea Grace

Thursday, November 4, 2010

My Grandmother's Flowers

My grandmother’s flowers grow lush in her garden
And smile at me every time that I come
The big fluffy zinnias and small cheerful pansies.
Wave and they nod ‘neath the bright summer sun.


My grandmother’s hands touch her flowers so gently
She waters and digs and is busy all day
The flowers just love her, and she loves the flowers
She makes them so cute in her own special way.


My grandmother’s eyes gaze out over her flowers
And rest for a moment on blossoms of blue
The flowers she looks at are my special favorites
‘Cause my grandmother’s eyes are the very same hue.


My grandmother’s flowers are happy to see us
And Grandma’s big smile is wide, bright, and sunny
She’s clever and witty and makes me to giggle
Because my grandmother’s so terribly funny!


My grandmother’s flowers are strong just like she is
Every summer they’re taller; they smell sweeter, too.
My grandmother’s flowers get better and better
Their bright, vibrant colors quite spruce up the view.


My grandmother’s flowers won’t blossom forever
One summer I’ll come and they will not be there
The yard will be mournful and lonely and quiet
The garden not lively, but somber and bare.


My grandmother’s flowers, their faces will vanish
No more her soft hands the smooth petals caress
Her laughter, the ghost of a much-lov├ęd lady
Will linger and stay in the places she blessed.


I so love my grandma. The times that I see her
Are fleeting and fading; they’ll someday be spent
So I’ll be a good girl and help Grandma to garden
And always remember her flowers’ sweet scent.


My grandmother’s flowers are charming and lovely
Their faces and smells I will always remember
And even though she and her flowers will leave me
It’s only a while ‘fore we’re back together.


My grandmother’s flowers I know will go with her
When she leaves me to go to the Garden above
And her flowers will make Heaven smell all the better
When my grandmother rests in the LORD’s awesome love.


~ © Andrea Grace

Monday, October 25, 2010

Travelin'

I been walkin’ down this road
For eighty years or more
My shoes wore out long time ago
And boy, my feet is sore!

Just steppin’ steppin’ steppin’
For at least ten thousand miles
And it ain’t been no picnic!
Though I had my share o’ smiles.

This road I gotta travel,
Boy, I tell you somethin’ strange:
It seems you know what’s there ahead
And just like that comes change!

You’re walkin’ through some valley
Sure, it looks like Easy Street!
But boy, you pay attention,
‘Cause it sure won’t stay that sweet.

A mountain’s comin’ up ahead
And pretty soon you’ll see
You gotta climb up real, real high
Sure, this I guarantee!

Them mountains, it’s a funny thing
They take you by surprise
And when you see ‘em loomin’ there
You won’t believe your eyes!

You won’t think you can climb so far
Can’t even see the top
But, boy, you best start climbin’,
‘Cause you ain’t allowed to stop.

Won’t be easy, I tell you, boy.
Takes blood, sweat, and tears
And sometimes you are climbin’ up
For years and years and years.

You gon’ cry, I tell you that.
You’ll be exhausted, too.
It’s painful and it’s difficult
Takes strength right outta you.

But you know somethin’ that I’ve found?
Them mountains ain’t so bad
Every mountain’s got an end
And boy, that makes you glad!

‘Cause when you finally reach the top
Them climbin’ days is gone
You feel… ecstatic’s the only word!
(And you might burst into song!)

But you know, it still ain’t over
The road ain’t stoppin’ here
And if you wanna reach the end,
Boy, that’ll take you years!

So rest yourself a while
Then you keep on steppin’ on
And you know somethin that you’ll find?
That climbin’ made you strong!

But there ain’t no more climbin’
For at least a while yet
‘Cause now the road gets twisty
And it might get dark and wet

And now it gets confusin’
‘Cause it’s darker than the night
And on top o’ that you wonder
If you should turn left or right

The road splits off a lot here
And you don’t know where to go
And so you find that by this time
You’re goin’ pretty slow

But boy, you just be careful
That you know which turn to take
You might find that at this time
It’s best to just go straight

And keep your eye out, boy, I say
Keep lookin’ at your goal!
‘Cause if you don’t, I tell you this:
You gon’ fall down a hole.

Boy, you fall down one them holes
You best get yourself out!
If you can’t do it by yourself
Then fill your lungs and shout!

Call for help to anyone
Who’s passin’ by your way
If they’re on your same highway
Then they won’t just walk away.

They’ll help you out and dust you off
And shake your hand and then
You don’t know if they’ll go or stay
Until you reach the end.

And when you finally see a light
You’re outta that dark place
An’ the goin’ ain’t so difficult;
You best pick up your pace.

The hard times might be over,
But you got a ways to go
Before you reach your journey’s end
So don’t you walk too slow.

And just because it’s easy now
Don’t raise your hopes too high
You never know what’s round the bend
Them turns deceive the eye!

You’ll step on rocks as well, you know.
And thorns and prickles too.
Your feet get bruised and bloodied up,
But boy, it’s good for you.

It hurts a lot to walk this road
But there’s much more than pain!
Boy, I tell you somethin’ grand
About this long, hard lane:

Sometimes you’ll see such lovely things
Hear songs so pure and sweet
It makes you want to skip and dance
Despite your aching feet!

‘Cause boy, I tell you somethin’ now:
Ain’t nothin’ you can dream
Can be as great or beautiful
As things that you will see!

And as you walk that great long road
You’ll seldom be alone
I guarantee there’s someone
Who’ll make it feel like home.

You’ll meet some other travelers
And they’ll walk with you a ways
But most will split off pretty soon,
Though some of ‘em will stay.

Your friends may take a different road
Perhaps their thoroughfare
Is shorter than the one you’re on.
You’ll miss ‘em walkin’ there.

Can’t always have folks by your side
Enjoy it while it lasts!
Because the days you walk with ‘em
Will shoot by far too fast.

Yep. Steppin’, steppin’ steppin’.
It won’t be no piece o’ cake.
But you ain’t got a choice here, boy.
That’s the road you gotta take.

You best remember what I say
‘Cause boy, when it gets hard
You best be smart and watch your step
And boy, keep up your guard!

And don’t forget the lovely parts!
And don’t you walk too slow.
And most of all, remember
Where it is you want to go.

So boy, although it’s tough at times
You can’t see ‘round the bend,
Don’t you forget one minute
That you always got a Friend!

And He is with you always
And He’ll never leave your side
And He’ll be your strong Protector,
Your Provider and your Guide!

So boy, I’ll keep on steppin’
And you keep on steppin’ too.
I tell you what; you reach the end
And I’ll meet up with you.


~ © Andrea Grace

Friday, October 15, 2010

Smoke On The Wind

A fire once burned here; the smell is still lingering
It left naught but cinders and ashes of grey
The smoke curls up skyward and fades into nothing
Like memories I had of those long-ago days



Like smoke on the wind are the friends that I had once
Their memory is dimming, I don’t know their names
The words that they told me I barely recall now
The laughter we shared once is mostly the same


I thought it would last, though. I thought we would stay
Best buddies forever. I guess that’s not so.
Like smoke on the wind, like a ghost in the hallway
I thought it was friendship, but I didn’t know.


Like smoke on the wind, the harder you grasp it
The faster it slips through your fingers and fades
When you open your hands, there is nothing to see there
Was it even real in the very first place?


Like smoke on the wind are the friendships I had once
Or thought that I had; for perhaps they were dreams
The people existed. I know that for certain;
But if they were friends still remains to be seen


Like smoke on the wind, maybe real, maybe not
For awhile you see, but it soon disappears
A small puff of air dissolves those grey tendrils
The same way we friends couldn’t last through the years


 Perhaps it was time, or perhaps it was distance
Perhaps ‘twas the differing paths that we chose
Whatever it is, I can scarcely remember
The days we had once. Guess that’s just how it goes.


Only smoke on the wind… it looks real for a moment
But once it is gone, then you can comprehend
It never had substance or any real meaning
And maybe ‘twas good that it came to an end


Smoke on the wind, never real, never there
You think that it was, but you can’t really tell
And you watch it drift upward, are sure it’s a real thing
But maybe it just has you under its spell


Smoke on the wind, it sure muddles your head
You can’t quite think straight, cannot see through the mist
One blink and it’s gone, leaving you there, bewildered
Was it just a dream? Did it really exist?


Smoke on the wind isn’t real; you can’t feel it
Just an illusion, a beautiful sight
A memory of nothing, a moment of pleasure
But you know in the end just a passing delight


Smoke on the wind can’t torment me; it won’t.
Sometimes I admit that I want it to stay
But smoke cannot help me, won’t be what I’m needing
I guess I must just let the smoke drift away.


Just smoke on the wind, all those friendships now vanished
I thought that I knew them, but maybe I’m wrong
Smoke on the wind, only smoke in the ending
Smoke that was here but next moment was gone.


~ © Andrea Grace

Friday, August 20, 2010

The Man Who Could Not See

How do you tell of color
To a man whose eyes lack sight?
How can you tell of sunrise
If he cannot see the light?

How can you play him music
If he cannot hear the words?
How can he smile and sing along
If he has never heard?

If you let him have a Hershey’s bar
You know it’d go to waste—
He wouldn’t care for chocolate
If the fellow could not taste.

Why would he touch a rabbit’s fur
If he has never felt?
Does he know of cookies baking 
If the man has never smelt?

But even if he knew the world,
If he could see and hear:
If he could feel and smell and taste
And lived a hundred years,

If he heard every pretty tune
And saw all gorgeous things
He never could know happiness
If he knew not the King.

~ © Andrea Grace

Monday, August 16, 2010

Butterflies and Moths

 A photogenic butterfly who very obligingly sat still on a rock and presented me with this charming view of itself in all its glory.


This is just some moth we found on our front door. It's really tiny, but I thought it was pretty.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Poem I Could Not Write

I cannot think of things to write
I’m somehow blocked today
Topics come and subjects go
But they don't seem to stay!


You don’t know how this kills me.
I want to write so bad!
I plead for inspiration
But there’s none here to be had.


The words flit by me, taunting
Just inches out of reach
And I try so hard to grasp them
But they laugh and turn to flee.


It’s sad, this inability.
And frustrating too—
When there’s a poem you want to write
And that you cannot do!


I bite my lip and hem and haw
And think as hard’s I can
Alas for me! It seems that I’m
An uninspired man!


Defeat, at last, claims me its own.
There’s naught for me to say.
Just hang my head and shuffle off
And try another day.


This will come back to haunt me
I know I’ll dream tonight
Of writer’s block I couldn’t break—
The poem I could not write!

~ © Andrea Grace

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

My Grandfather's Books

My grandfather’s books are lined up on the shelf there
I see them, their bindings are rigid and grey
They speak of the past, tell of wars and of rulers
My grandfather loves them and reads every day.


My grandfather’s books do not smile or giggle
They’re serious, stern, and they don’t talk too much.
When they do speak at all the matters are weighty
Politics, battles, and history and such.


My grandfather’s hands grip the covers so firmly
He turns every page with a serious face
He’s reading and learning, knows so much already
Of each president, of each battle, each place.


My grandfather’s books speak of strength and of courage
Like my grandfather there, they aren’t mushy or sweet
They’re hard and abrupt, and they tell you what’s happened
Every word stamped in ink on the printer’s crisp sheet.


My grandfather’s books are so strong, just like he is
I remember his muscles from when I was small
How his strength bowled me over; I smiled and wondered
And was proud of my grandpa so handsome and tall


My grandfather’s books don’t get dusty; he’s neat
And he never is sloppy, untidy or messy
But he does love his grandkids, is happy to see us
And view all us children as his little blessings


I do love my grandpa. And he loves me too.
Though sometimes he’s prickly, severe, kind of gruff
And I know in my mind every time that I see him
That ten thousand hugs simply won’t be enough.


My grandfather’s books… he can’t read them forever
They’ll sit on the shelf getting dusty someday
And I don’t want to think it, but Grandpa will follow
Someday my grandfather will just fade away.


My grandfather’s books; they will know him forever
The same as I will. He’ll be stamped on the page
His fingers won’t be there, but they’ll be remembered
Though my grandfather lived in some previous age


One more hug, one more “Love you!” I’ll give him today
Every time that I smile, I hope that he knows
How much I love him, will know him forever
Even when someday my grandfather goes.


My grandfather’s books someday will be thrown out
Or sold to a thrift store or shop of antiques
But his memory forever will be mine to cherish
And my grandfather’s smile will be mine to keep!


~ © Andrea Grace

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Feverish

     Scott stared hard at his computer screen. He sneezed. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised for his next stroke. He was chatting with his buddy, Jason.

     “ya so 4 dinner tomoro, my mom is makin spageti,” wrote Jason. “U wanna come an we can talk bout the project?”

     Scott frowned. “Certainly,” he typed rapidly. “If, that is, there is no objection on your mother’s part.”

     “no way man she likes for u 2 come an eat all the food it makes her fell good jk lol”

     Scott’s eyes watered, and he sneezed again. “Excellent! We will call it a deal, then.” in He tapped the enter key lightly a few times before pressing it in earnest. His long fingers remained frozen midair as Jason’s next message scrolled across the screen. Scott coughed.

     “gr8 man so wat do u think bout usin blu insted of green?”

     Scott coughed again. He was suddenly very thirsty. “Perhaps,” he typed. His train of thought was violently derailed as he caught sight of Jason’s next message.

     “or may be pink lol”

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Adventures

(Is it a sin to post two things on the same day? But the first one doesn't really count for anything... so it's okay, right? Right? Ahem! Annnyyyyway, without further ado, I present to you.... this.. um... this thing I wrote.)






     The rain battered the glass windows ferociously. The wind was a ravening, shrieking beast, howling its relentless determination to shake the house to pieces. The clouds, blackly menacing, swirled and boiled ominously. Jagged lightning tore the sky, briefly illuminating the waving prairie grass.


     It was a dark and stormy night.

     Grace Connor wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and stared, wide-eyed, at the savage display of raw power. Her heart beat faster as thunder crashed on her ears, like some giant drum of war. She was safe inside, sitting on the window seat in her bedroom. Silent marvel etched itself on her freckled face. She smiled quietly to herself. This, she was thinking, would be the perfect night to be kidnapped by pirates. Yes… the perfect night…