Words by Soberflight

poetry and musings

Month: October, 2013



How peace does paint the landscape here
In shades of green and hazy blue.
Children play, oblivious,
To what “outside” people do.

I wish I had the childish mind
That sees the world as they,
Where war and hate here don’t exist,
And crime is far away.

But somewhere children face the day
And never taste of glee,
Where bombs and guns tear life apart,
Their spirits never free.

Like this child here I’ll close my mind,
Refuse to see the world
Outside the cornfields, far away,
Where travesty unfurled.




My heart of flesh beats with life,
Pounds or pulses 
With mood or deed,
But this drum creates its own urgency,
A call to my spirit,
An inner need.

Whether in rapture or tones of peace,
Vibrant joy
Or quiet musings,
This drum commands my hands to talk
As my heart
Inside me, sings. 

Weather Change


The clouds of gray have greeted me
Like sullen children
Holding back their smiles.
Slowly Mirth crept into day
And the sullen children ran away.
Like twinkling eyes
Rain that dotted dripping leaves
Reflected sun
And bright blue skies.

Cold: a terza rima sonnet


How can it be cold, frost nipping the air,

When all of the trees sport leaves in full flame,

Except for those that are already bare?


Those naked trees must be shiv’ring in shame

Amongst all their fashionable brothers.

“We’ve nothing to wear!” they woefully claim.


They would be warm if they had their druthers,

But the autumn wind has left them undressed,

Left to eye the bright frocks of the others.


As the temperature falls, they are distressed,

Crying out their sad plight as they shiver,

“The cold, bitter, wind puts us to the test!”


The sun drops down low, light just a sliver,

While bright leaves float away on the river.

Robert Frost tribute

Whose woods these are, indeed I know,

He walked and wrote here long ago

About the roads and land held dear,

Silent cat feet, silent snow.


Perhaps he took a respite here

To view the sky so crisp and clear,

Or watch each winter’s lacy flake

Come tumbling through the atmosphere.


While mending fences when they’d break,

Did he begrudge the time it’d take?

Or did he hear the tree toad’s peep

And praise the Lord he was awake?


He was a man, he’d laugh and weep,

Like any man he’d eat and sleep;

His words were meant for hearts to keep.

His words were made for hearts to keep.





There’s the family I grew up with, 

The first one that I knew,

Along with aunts and cousins,

A grandparent or two,


And then I met my husband

And our own family grew

With one son, then another.

(We agreed to stop at two.)


And then these little boys

Had children of their own;

It rattles me sometimes

To see how the time has flown




Then, of course, there’s skydivers,

A clan I am part of, 

Not joined by dna at all,

But a sport that we all love.


My church group is a family,

I’m proud to be a part

Of a group of caring people

With a love for Christ at heart.


I’m also treated warmly

By a family not my own,

And I feel I’ve been adopted

Just by the love they’ve shown.


So yes, indeed, I’m lucky

Surrounded by such love

Given by each family

I’m blessed to be part of.

So Long Ago, A Rondeau


So long ago, it was a happy time.

My childhood days had seemed so sweet, sublime;

I couldn’t see the trials and troubles met,

The worries, woes, that made my parents fret.

I spent my days at play in warm sunshine.

I had been sheltered from a world of crime

And cities filled with sin and filth and grime.

My innocence had not been shattered yet

So long ago.

But I grew up, and change had come with time,

And playful days became a slow, hard, climb.

My heart became full of fear, shame, regret,

And disappointment from goals never met.

I keep looking back at my life defined

So long ago.