Cover Photo by Mark R. Day

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Poem: The Lives of Ants and Men


The smallest creatures, ants and such, work intently as they go about their business

Observing them, as they move through the blades of green and patches of brown soil, they seem to instinctively know their purpose.

They take no notice of my presence; except to repair the damage done to their world by my clumsy stride.

They do not look up but rather proceed on with their lives undistracted and unconcerned with mankind.

What then is man to the natural world other than an inconvenience.

A natural disaster to be dealt with, overcome, and forgotten
 
Written by Mark R. Day 6/8/15.  Copyright by Mark R. Day 6/8/15, all rights reserved.
This is the final poem written at the Old City Cemetery in Lynchburg on June 8th 2015.  It was inspired by the little black ants, which were busily working away beneath my legs as, I sat on the hilside in the bright sunshine.

Poem: Lessons Taught by a Blue Bloom


Small and insignificant a lone blue flower sways atop its long stem.

The wind gently rocks the bloom its long stem moving like a metronome.

The wind blows stiffly at times causing the petals of the plant to puff and twist.

Occasionally the stem seemingly bends to the earth like a child reaching for its mother.

In this small and insignificant plant there is a metaphor and  an example for us.

Strength comes in flexibility

Beauty is often revealed under pressure

Comfort is always near


Written by Mark R. Day 6/8/15.  Copyright by Mark R. Day 6/8/15, all rights reserved.

This is a the second of three poems written while relaxing on a sunny hillside in Lynchburg VA. at the Old City Cemetery

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Poem: Journey on the Rails of Life


Railroad tracks, rusty brown and unending; they stretch silently and motionless before my eyes.

On and on toward the horizon going nowhere and everywhere as they disappear into the distance.

Railroad tracks are as mysterious and unknown as life itself; stretching onward seemingly without end.

Life, like railroad tracks; has its way-points, emergency stops and final destinations.
Some are just intermediate stops which may offer rest; while others signal a journeys end.

Ultimately we all book passage and our choices create the route that is taken.

Some routes are slow and scenic and others are quick and wrought with woes.

However, the choice may or may not be our own volition;  as fate is a cruel villain who waits beyond each bend.
 
 
Written by Mark R. Day 6/8/15.  Copyright by Mark. R. Day 6/8/15, all rights reserved.
"One of a number of poems that was written in Old City Cemetery on 5/8/15.  This one was inspired as I sat on  a hill looking at the Norfolk Southern Railroad track, which runs behind the cemetery."