A Country Girl's Writing

To have your heart broken By someone you love They have to drop it From a high place above. Let it fall without a care As they watch it fly through the air, and shatter like glass Beneath them. Then they have to leave it, For you to recover. while it take you years To piece it again together. By Evelyn Creon

Your voice is like no other That I have ever heard. It makes my heart beat faster With every single word. Your eyes don't get me started They are so deep and blue. They seem to see right through me My new found fear, it's true. Your hands they make me happy To see them in dirty shades. Knowing because you work hard You earn a decent wage. Your character is soft Yet strong and courageous too. Your loving to the children In most all the things you do. Your flaws while there are many So copious, I can't count. Represents frailty making you human no doubt. Though it may seem silly Maybe a tad bit immature. I love you whole hearted, Giving me joy to endure. By Evelyn

One of the things I have always feared is the idea of losing my parents. This was a dream that I would have over and over again when I was younger.  My heart fell from his hands hitting the ground shattering into a thousand pieces. "Nnnoooo," I cried, "You dropped it! How could you do such a thing?" Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't hold them back as much as I wanted to.  A grin crossed his lips as he looked at me and said hardheartedly, "Your the one that gave it to me, and so you have me the permission to do what I wanted with it. I don't care about your heart so I broke it. " The tears streamed faster down my cheeks than they had ever come before. "Does my heart mean nothing to you?"  " NO, nope, never have and never will. "  I looked up at him in disgust. His grin made me sick inside. I had trusted him with every part of me, and most importantly the memory of my parents. I couldn't look at hi...

 Inspired by the endless dance parties my siblings, cousins, and I have in the kitchen when the parents are away.  Dancin' in the kitchen On a cold stary night, Not a care in the world, Cause we're doin' alright. we have dinner and drinks To last the whole night long; With the music playin' A good ol' fashion song. We got Apple pastries, We got gizzards galore! We've got huckleberries, steak an' some roasted corn. There's greens from the garden, Last year's squash from the field. Will fill our abdomens Before the next mornin' meal. Dancin' in the kitchen, Throughout this stary night Papa'll play the banjo Just a little up tight. Granny'll be out jigger That no one ever ever beats, A duet I will sing Like a champ on the streets. Mama will be dancin' With a slip and a dip, Aunt Diane will do dishes With an ol' swing of hips. Uncle Tony will sing Next to papa and me, While the little youngin...

Inspired by the idea that somewhere in the world there is somebody that plays their grandpa's old guitar.  I sat there on my bed Pluckin ' away at his guitar.  The only thing I had left From the memory of grandpa. It's a littl' old, beat up, But still it makes pretty chords that the family loves.  He used to teach me Thursday night's How to play it swell. When he died of cancer  I didn't take the death too well. Now I lose myself in memories  Of Thursday night lessons That grandpa gave to me.  By Evelyn Creon

I don't know yet if I particularly like how this poem turned out. I kept debating with myself if I should even post, finally decide I've posted things I didn't really like before. Maybe I'll end up liking this poem later.  Distance away from you  Is pulling at my heartstrings. Trying to start anew, Despite, you I still keep yearning.  Your filling all of my dreams, Reminding me of what we had.  We once stood on moon-beams  Together, I was your comrade.  I long for your embrace The comfort and safety it brought.  Between us is much space   United only in thoughts.  Your hair so rich and brown  Engraved with a unique scent; That turned me upside down  Since the day we first met. Your eyes so lively and deep;  They could see far into my soul. Everything you'd upsweep  Before I'd find a cubbyhole.  Your lips a rosy red; Told me many a day I was loved. ...

The wolf is quiet as can be, As it creeps over hills; Who will his next victim be? The wolf has no need for a pack, So a loner he walks, Far from wolves that attack. His black gray coat shines by moonlight. On his hunches he sits, And howls to the moon at night. His call's long and full of sorrows, From telling his story, To all those who follow. The wolf has long been a legend In this part of the hills; Though none have ever seen him. Of him all settlers are scared. A monster he is titled; Yes, one that all have feared. Save one, who is his companion, An independent boy Left once in the cave of a wolf. This boy's parents died near the den Where a mother wolf dwelt. Who took him as her own. She brought him up as best she could. Then left him with her pup In front of a cabin old. The cabin, quite a ways from town. Belonged to a couple Who never could have children. The adopted the boy and pup; And brought him up until Their life o...

Ever since she was a little girl, Her daddy take her on his knee. He would call her his little Pearl; Sweep her up in his arms with spree.  Her head when she was only ten,  Was full of crazy dreams. She told them to her daddy, now and again,  About what she wanted to be, in extremes.  Growing fast she turned sixteen. Her daddy gave her a ring with a promise.  The gift made her feel serene And she began to take more advice.  Daddy began to see she was no longer a little girl. Growing up way to fast  She became a mural  On the wall from the past.  The years passed by all to fast For her daddy and mama. It wasn't long till she'd be at full mast; Sailing seas in a world of drama. When she was eighteen, she meet a boy And brought him home to meet her parents.  Not very long after they had met,  He inquired for their consent. Her smile flooded through all the house.  ...

My head is spinning in rounds, At every idea of you. I am feeling a little bound; Like were stuck together like glue.  Thrown together in a heap. Lacks our notion or consent. Stuck here having no place to leap, To avoid all this discontent. What am I supposed to do? Now, to free myself from you. I could just drive on through, Or sit and wait while I stew.  I could try and play it cool; But would I lie like a fool. No one would like that point of view. Oh what am I supposed to do?  By Evelyn Creon

Billiard Players I'm told that my father was a billiard player. The best one in the town. But I have never seen him play in all. The years I've been around. The story goes he played like a wild cat. And won each and every game. He was so good that no one. dared steal his fame. When ever a stranger came to our town. A ruckus always began. The stranger then would invite my father. To come and play around. I was told, along came a gal; That no one in the town did know. She challenged him to a game of pool. And one the very first round. Now my father was no loser; So he bet with his life. He'd "Beat her before he died", he said. But not the way every one thought. He kicked up his heels, and exclaimed.  While the rest of the town was in shock. Well I guess I'm beat and so,  I'm forced to tie the knot.  Every person in town understood him now. The prophesy had came true.  The gal had come a...