In The Pocket of Poverty
Deep in the pocket of poverty
Bitten in the dead night
When eyes roll down their shutters
And the moon dawns the beam of sun,
I strain to the stolen light
Not for reward or rank
Or the faceless grins and praises
Tunneling through the ages
Of the most beaten path.
Not for those lofty stars save
For some humble soul I pen
These piquant points
Nor for those dons with halos
Embraced by the nymph of night
But for those infected by
The sore of poverty
And bruised by briars
Who branch a tree with cries.
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poem by Robert Dummett
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Today With Thanks
Today with thanks you adorn this home,
Rubbing voices to curl in shells of ears
While hearts dance like electricity,
Lighting the gates of heaven -
And Baal, our mighty oak, fallen, springs
From acorn green shoots into little lives.
Today with thanks we stretch with dad,
Misty hands in appreciation for
Your support shown unreservedly,
With love that binds and seals it -
You are stars that dazzle darkness,
Like moonlight in twinkling disguise.
Today with thanks know that such friends
And family as you, formed our path;
Today with thanks you cared for us -
And turned heads with your fragrance of life.
Tomorrow, we'll cross the Rubicon....
And into glory sweep.
poem by Robert Dummett
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