Winter Blues

Winter just got here
and already i say
I wish it was over
and done with today!
I hate being negative
don't enjoy being rude
but Old man winter is nasty
he's down right crude..
I'm already thinking
(I can't wait to see)
Spring springing a big smile
through winter at me....

poem by Connetta Jean
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Just March(ing) Along..

When Winter begins
to lose His touch
and his buddy Jack Frost
don't hang 'roun as much..
The days will be one day
all sunny and warm
then by morning wake up
to a winter snow storm
March isn't winter
spring, summer or fall.
March seems to be marching
into changing it all.....
March is a beginning.
March is a end.
Winters defeater (the spring time leader)
March is marching spring in...

poem by Connetta Jean
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Searching For Autumn

It 's early Novemeber
a cool brisk Autumn day
and i pause at a buliding
thats been left all astray
as i look out the window
it seems hard to see
the splender and beauty
of memories still fresh in me.
the colors have faded
that once shined so bright
Miss. Autumn has left us
(seems she left over night) ..
now colors of dull green
and brown mixed with grey
are saying that Autumn
has gone on her way...

poem by Connetta Jean
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A Farmers Poem

'I don't like Poetry'
Said the husband to the wife..
'I've no time for such things
I live a Farmers life'
But the wife said 'dear husband'
'you live a poets poem'
do you not reap the harvest
of seeds by whick you've sown?
I've seen you bow your head in thanks
when God answered prayers for rain
i've seen your eyes shine with pride
with every baby calf you name'
' I guess poetrys okay' he said
as he kissed that farmers wife
and silently he thanked the Lord
she saw poetry in their life....

connetta Jean

poem by Connetta Jean
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White Winter Gold..

I've been sitting and watching
as the kids from our town
take sleds up the hill
and sleigh ride back down..
from short ones to tall ones
from young kids to old
to them a big snow storm
is white winter gold...
Theres some building snowmen
some throwing snow balls..
others building snow forts
ignoring their mothers calls..
with their nose and cheeks
a bright ruby red,
and heads that are sweating
neith the caps on their head...
They just keep on sleighing
ice skating and stuff
making snow men and snow balls
They can't get enough..

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poem by Connetta Jean
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(Lyric) Setting Papers On Fire...

Remember that old fire place
we sat in front of
talking girl and taking
time out to make love
well that fire place and me
we're still keeping company
but lately my desire
is setting papers on fire..

i've been burning up pictures
old cards and letters too
don't need reminders
to remind me of you
I used to want to keep
the memory of loving you
but lately my desire's
setting papers on fire..

remember that old bathtub
we bought at a sale?

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poem by Connetta Jean
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(ballad) If I could...

If I could.....

If i could
i'd bring our soldiers home
If I could
I'd bring our soldiers home..
i would bring them safe and sound
home again on American ground
If i could
i'd bring our soldiers home.

If i could
I'd make this world free
If i could
I'd make this world free
no cold and hungry children
no pain or poverty...
if i could
I'd make this world free.

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poem by Connetta Jean
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No Option...

I used to watch the news
but it's too depressing
listening to people
with good jobs
telling me
to hang in there.
'Make a plan'
Talking to people
Who Iost their job
are losing a house
can't fix their car..
people who's
credit cards
lay dead in the wallet.
people who got letters
saying sorry but.
the retirement fund
is gone
(the company 'lost' it all..)
Yep,

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poem by Connetta Jean
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Greed..

Greed will make you hurngry
you'll never get enough...
it can tear a life apart
Greed is nasy stuff..
don't get greedy - don't be greedy
once you let yoursef be greedy
you can't go back again...
(i'm telling ya man...)
i know a man named Jessy
his Grandma was sitting good..
he set out to win her turst
and take everything he could..
he got greedy
he was greedy..
Jessy let himself get greedy
And He can't go back again...
Greed turns family on family
makes a friend the enemy
it can turn you on your Grandma
blinding you so you can't see..

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poem by Connetta Jean
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