The Inspiration
A child is born in the city slums
Son of working class parents
Nothing ever comes easy and life is hard
The poor little boy laments
But deep in his heart
Right from the start
There was always a reason
He held an inspiration
The boy worked hard, yet, still he found
The time to learn or read
He read to find some spiritual base
To fill his growing need
Still, deep in his heart
Right from the start
There was always a reason
He held an inspiration
poem by Wakefield Mahon
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Long Ago, The Land Was Green
Long ago, the land was green
Blue and shades of brown
And now, the mass of concrete slabs
Form rainbows all around
Once the air was lonely
Except the majestic birds
Now, screams of airplanes fill the air
And cities are filled with words
Rivers of old, were crowded with fish
Too many for us to eat
Now, we fish in quiet rest
For cans and other treats
Bless the ones who gave us this
Inhaling smoke for breath
Bless the ones who gave us comfort
Although the cost is death
poem by Wakefield Mahon
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A Butterfly's Song
I hear the song of a silent butterfly
A song of solitude
Like the awesome symphonic tones
Of a lonely violin
I see the beauty of the invisible wind
On which the butterfly roams
It carries him where he wishes to go
Then brings him back again
I taste the sweet flavorless water
Which makes the flowers grow
They give the butterfly perfumed nectar
We haven't time to smell
I hear the laugh of the silent butterfly
A song of scoff and mocking
For in his flight of solitude
Lies freedom eternal.
poem by Wakefield Mahon
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She Is A Mother
She is a mother, but not a wife
In the arms of another, her passion lies
Why can't her husband make her feel that way?
So lost in his own life they live day to day
Passing each other like ships in the night
And he longs to hold her but it doesn't feel right
There came a man with arms so strong
Who spoke to her heart in lyric and song
And though her passion was dim glowing embers
The fire roars again as he makes her remember
She lay at peace, in his arms, in his bed,
Until a vision troubled her head
She saw the eyes of her little ones
So out of his house to her children she runs
She cries when she thinks of his arms around her
But nothing is worth this love that surrounds her
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poem by Wakefield Mahon
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The One You Despise
Mother, I must warn you, you've come to look the fool
For, in attempt to teach me life, you've broken every rule.
You say that I should stand proud, because my ancestors were black
Yet for the ones of white and red my pride must somehow lack
You told me to feel handsome, be proud of what I see
And yet, 'Big, black and ugly, ' is all you say to me
Then manners, you tried on me to press
And handsome grooming, with proper dress
But then, you offer no respect,
And, still, from me, perfection expect
And, now, you say it's time to go
And, at eighteen, it's time. I know.
And though I love you I must away
Though, never knowing just how to say,
'I'm sorry'
The one you despise is always there
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poem by Wakefield Mahon
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