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No part of this website, nor the book 'Rhyme with Reason' may NOT be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without any written permission from the author. © T.A.Stanton Pen: PoetTree of PoetTrees Gallerious Volume I

 

 

'The Secret Cove' ver I

Creeping winds ruffling tree tops, the crickets creep the night,
I see a thing take a sudden hop. it gives me a sudden fright.
Amongst this tall wooded tree field, this form is moving about,
then suddenly it stops looks and yields, he stares without a sound.

It has a greenish cloth of wool, wrapped on his shortened chap chest,
surprised this does seem so cool, brown dunges where his legs rest.
The darkness surely does conceal, a short human form at that,
he wear’s a brassy band of steal, around his tall hat cap.

© Rhyme with Reson / 03.2004 / Poem: 'The Secret Cove ver I ; Paragraphs 6 & 7 of 12

'Gifted Place'

A story once was told, so many years ago,
of an ageless gifted race, nestled within a place.

On an island within the sea, amongst the timbered trees,
They enjoyed such wonderful skills, living within the hills.

Their time was spent with crafts, an area they never lacked,
they created for many years, the detail was very real.

With canvases enriched of scenes, such detail within the leaves,
and waterfalls cascading so high, such colors will never die.

© Rhyme with Reson / 03.2004 / Poem: 'Gifted Place' ; Paragraphs 1 through 4 of 10

'Dreams I See'

Are my Dreams but a star by a rock near a tree.

Is it something of hope, forgotten not seen.

Pleasantly with leaves they awaken my sense.

Is this but a Dream, I feel so content.

© Rhyme with Reson / 03.2004 / Poem: 'Dreams I See ' ; Paragraphs 1 of 4

'Ageless Skillfull Hands'

You see for now this poem reveals, a description of these ageless hands.
Gifted through time and very real, enlaced with heavens sands.

At times these hands create the trees, old of crackling bark
Ribbed of limbs and colorful leaves, to cresp the moonlights dark

At night my hands rest asleep, nimbled contently in peace.
Dreaming of brushes, paints and inks, craving a creative release.

Like oils and pens they feel content, to unleash there hidden skills.
They touch and illustrate a natural sense, to draw whatever they feel.

© Rhyme with Reson / 03.2004 / Poem: 'Ageless Skillfull Hands' ; Paragraphs 5 through 8 of 10

 

Story and Dream Excerpts from 'Rhyme with Reason' for all, with detailed illustrations created by the Author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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