Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Cemetary

I wandered in a graveyard
In the silence, in the dark
And read the names
Inscripted on
Each stone that bore a mark

I read their dates of birth
And I read too their dates of death
Those solemn lines
That told the tale
Of stopped heart; stolen breath.

Sometimes I could not read the dates
On some, the names were gone
An empty stone
A nameless ghost
A life forgotten long

A person once, that danced and laughed
And sang and ate and slept
Has now become
A silent thing
A memory never kept

I never saw their faces
I never knew their names
But still these empty
Silent stones
Inspire curious pain

Perhaps one day, my headstone too
Will crumble down or fade
My face will vanish
Just the same
As theirs were snatched away

I'll never know their names at all
And they will not know mine
We'll, all of us
Be only ghosts
From once upon a time

~ © Andrea Grace

I went to South Carolina with the family I work for (who I love), and the history there was just awesome. I wrote this after walking in a cemetary near where we stayed. Also, I decided that I believe in ghosts. Wholeheartedly.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Destroyer

A clever trick, a smiling thief
Will you give me your full belief?

A heart of stone, a charming bell
The weapon of the prince of hell

Assassin of so many dreams
I am a tool for evil schemes

I murder love; I ruin friends
I laugh to see their smiles end

I’m beautiful, with charming ways
Can’t see past my disarming gaze

You’ll love me and you’ll think I care
And follow me through storm or fair

You’ll think my evil heart is good
And all the time, I’ll shed your blood

I’ll ruin you with lies and pain
But you’ll come back to me again

I’ll kill you soon. I’ll watch you die
And you’ll still trust my every lie

Be careful now. You think you’re safe
But stay on guard, or I’ll invade

I’ll snatch you up, ensnare your feet
And you’ll say thanks

To me,

     Deceit.


© Andrea Grace

Monday, September 12, 2011

He Little Knew the Vengeance That Awaited Him

     Kids are awesome. They are way smarter than most of us give them credit for. Everything they do is either hilarious or interesting. I was at the playground with the two children I babysit the other day, and this was brought home to me again when I witnessed this little drama unfolding before my eyes.

     The boy was about ten years old, and he was a little different from the other children. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but something about him was just not the same. He was a little slow, and his face bore traces of the lonely and resentful expression of a child that is never quite understood. He liked to shout at the others, and the small ones were afraid of him (with the exception of the two-year-old girl I babysit, who treated him with queenly indifference). I had to tell him off, myself, for yelling at and frightening my small charges. He acted rashly, however, when he scared a little four-year-old girl. She ran off, crying, to seek solace from her older sister and her three friends.

      Well, I could have told him he’d made a mistake.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Jeweler

I think a Jeweler made the sky
I think He uses metals bright
He spread Himself an onyx sheet

And placed it over Earth at night

I think He took a crystal clear
And broke into many shards
He poured them out into the black
And we looked up and called them stars


He minted once a silver coin
And hung it out and called it “moon”
But sometimes it’s a pale pink pearl
And gold in months of harvest, too


The sunsets made of rubies red
The Jeweler pours on molten gold
And hangs out clouds of amethysts
As He has done for years untold


When rain falls in the sun’s warm light
I think it’s really diamond stones
They tumble down from up above
From that vast trove the Jeweler owns


And flakes of icy crystal fall
In winter months (we call it snow)
From selfsame clouds whence silver wire
Twists down to strike the ground below


If you lived out on sprawling plains
‘Midst amber waves, the way I do,
You wouldn’t doubt that sapphire is
The stuff that makes the skies so blue


The heavens shine so brightly there
The Jeweler truly knows his art
The emerald streaks in rainbow curves
Are gifts from Him to charm our hearts


~ © Andrea Grace

Friday, June 3, 2011

Tin Soldiers

Tin soldiers stand up ramrod straight
And march in perfect rows
Across the patterned
Quilted squares
Toward their wooden foes

The little general, five years old,
Shouts out their strategy
The soldiers in
His pudgy hands
Defeat their enemy

Tin soldiers with their bayonets
Won’t march at all today
Except the one
The general took
To school, so he could play.

Tin soldiers march through six more years
Across the nursery floor
The general doesn’t
Play with them
As often as before

But still sometimes, he takes them down
(How militant they look!)
And sets them up
Like armies in
His favorite history book

Tin soldiers watch their general tie
The laces on his shoes
Sixteen today
He frowns a bit
And reads the morning news

Tin soldiers stand upon the shelf
And stare across the room
Where once they marched
And victories won
Now empty as a tomb

The general’s face they see again
A photo on the wall
So many medals
On his chest!
A handsome man, and tall

Tin soldiers live for thirty years
Inside a chest of pine
Their bayonets
Are duller now
Their faces lost their shine

Until the day the general comes
And gives a happy shout
As he kneels down
Beside the chest
And lifts his soldiers out

And one more time, he’s five years old
The soldiers march once more
The general gives
A fine salute
And sits down on the floor

~ © Andrea Grace

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Train to the City

Boarded a train— left the prairie behind
Heard the wheels rumble over the train track
And I looked out the window at hills flashing by
And I vowed that I never would go back.

The city was busy. The cab drivers shouted
The sights and the sounds filled my mind
Beneath the skyscrapers, in all the confusion,
I forgot what I had left behind.

'Midst smells of the hot dogs and cigarette smoke
And the gum on the sidewalk below,
I wandered around, thinking what I should do
And where would I most like to go.

A museum of paintings was open that day,
So I bought me a pass and looked ‘round.
I saw the whole place, from the top to the bottom
From ceiling right down to the ground.

And it’s strange to report, but a thing that I found out
As through that museum I did roam:
Amongst all those paintings the ones I liked best
Were the ones that remind me of home.

Boarded a train— bade the city farewell
But told it one day I’d stop by.
And my heart sang a song as the train sped along
Toward my home ‘neath the wide prairie sky.

~ © Andrea Grace

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Drawings on the Sidewalk

A cloudy day, and gloomy out
But I could see the sun
A little girl
With yellow chalk
Had drawn a smiling one

Her hand was painted rainbow hues
As she held tight the chalk
She drew her world
So brightly there
Upon the grey sidewalk

A princess in her tower room
With hair as dark as night
A dragon green
And breathing flame
Prince Charming there to fight

A river wound through all that land
And birds flew very high
The fluffy clouds
Hung lazily
Suspended in the sky

The little artist sitting there
And painting where I’d walk
The only tools
That she would use
Her box of colored chalk

I don’t know why I stayed right there
And watched that little girl
As flowers grew
Beneath her hands
Inside her little world

A drop of water fell on me
And on the smiling sun
And that small girl
Picked up her chalk
And she began to run

She disappeared inside her house
And left me standing there
A tear rolled down
The dragon’s cheek
And blurred the princess’ hair

The colors ran together
As the rain washed them away
And I just watched
The sidewalk turn
From rainbows back to grey


~ © Andrea Grace

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Vigil

Twilight on a lonely pier
The silent skies of grey
A single gull
Stands motionless
And looks across the bay

Last night, as well the night before,
He kept her company
A little girl
Who waited there
And stared out to the sea

Expressionless and waiting
For a ship that never came
So many others
Landed there
But none was quite the same

So many nights spent silently
No sigh escaped her lips
She never spoke
A single word
But gazed upon the ships

Tonight the gull is all alone
For she will come no more
The memory of
Her silent watch
A ghost upon the shore

The seagull spreads his black-tipped wings
And soars into the sky
And disappears
Into the grey
A final mournful cry


~ © Andrea Grace

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Lot's Wife

Run, my dear! Keep running!
Don’t stop to think or breathe!
Don’t wonder what it looks like, dear.
I know you want to see,

But squelch your curiosity!
We’re running for our lives!
And I tell you most emphatically
That looking is not wise!

Your home is burning up back there
A hail of fiery rain
Reduces it to just a pile
Of rubble on the plain.

My dear, I know your sister’s there
Your friends and all their wives
I’m sorry, love, but we’ve no choice.
We cannot save their lives.

I know you want to help them
I know you want to turn
I know it breaks your heart to hear
Your hometown-city burn.

Keep running now, and don’t look back
There’s nothing we can do
We tried our best to save our friends.
I know it hurts for you,

But they have made their choices, and
For them it’s far too late
We’ll look out for ourselves this time
And leave them to their fate.

I know it seems so cruel, my dear,
To leave our friends to die
It breaks my heart to flee like this,
To hear their children cry

But I hope you can see one day
We had no other choice
We heard the Lord tell us to run
And had to heed His voice.

You want to race back there and help,
But you’d just perish too!
So run with me, my own dear wife,
It’s all that we can do.

We can’t save everyone in life.
Most times it’s best to try
But sometimes, dear, the cause is lost!
And why, then, would you die?

So keep on running, darling!
And please, oh please, don’t turn!
Please, you do not have to watch
Our friends and city burn!

We cannot help, and that is that.
Aren’t we worth saving, too?
And we’re saving our two daughters!
That’s what we have to do.

But, oh, my wife! I cannot hear
Your footsteps on the ground!
What happened? Are you running still?
…Or did you turn around?

Oh, tell me that it isn’t so!
You didn’t turn or halt!
Oh, curse the day! My wife is now
A pillar made of salt!

Turned back to help her family
Or maybe just to see.
Run on, my girls. Your mother’s gone.
It’s now just you and me.

~ © Andrea Grace

     When the morning dawned, the angels urged Lot to hurry, saying, "Arise! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, lest you be consumed in the punishment of the city!"
     And while he lingered, the men took hold of his hand, his wife's hand, and the hands of his two daughters, the Lord being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city. So it came to pass, when they had brought them outside that he said,
     "Escape for your life! Do not look behind you nor stay anywhere on the plain. Escape to the mountains, lest you be destroyed!"
     ... But his wife looked back behind them, and she became a pillar of salt.
      ~ Genesis 19: 15-17, 19