Question
The Rainbow
See what political correctness
Is causing us to do
If you want to describe the sky
You wouldn’t dare, call the sky blue
Let’s take a look at the lawn
How would you describe the grass
You wouldn’t dare, call it green
Without appearing biased or crass
What about the sun in the sky
How would you describe what you see
You wouldn’t dare, call the sun yellow
Without causing an uproar and controversy
Look at the earth that is walked on
How would you describe the dirt
You wouldn’t dare, call the dirt black
Without worry of causing some hurt
Well, look at the beautiful rainbow
How would you describe the colors within
It’s a mixture of hues that are blended
Describing it in colors is just not a sin
So the people of the world are different
Our skin is an example of such
Our hues and colors are blended
We are the rainbow because of God’s touch
The Wildwood
Out in the wildwood, it was rumored
Was a woman who would come and would go
Folklore had it, she was there in the spring
But gone at winter’s first snow
There was a tale, passed down through the ages
Of this woman who lived on her own
In a shack that stood in a clearing
Belladonna was how she was known
The few who had seen her never approached
They had been warned, they didn’t dare
They described her beauty likened to a flower
With long shining black hair
A boy who was lost had ventured to close
Was overcome by her beauty and powers
She bade him bring, the shining black berries
From the reddish, bell-shaped flowers
He was starving, he picked them with care
She thus proceeded to bake him a pie
After he ate it, he gave her a smile
He closed his eyes then breathed a sigh
The townspeople found him under fresh fallen snow
His mouth stained berry black, then they prayed
Because the only thing found in the clearing was
The frozen plant known as the deadly nightshade
Remission
It started very simply
The lure of things from long ago
A memory of childhood’s gone
Something to be proud of, something to show
We called them collections back then
We hunted all the sales
Bringing our prizes home
Putting up shelves with all our nails
If we had time and money
We’d make a day of our bargain search
Racing from location to location
Some of our best finds were at the church
Many of the vases were of value
Worth more, but we paid less
On the ride home, some were broken
We glued them together, I must confess
The problems started early on
When one of a kind was not enough
We had to have everyone
Then the addiction became real tough
I collected
