Stage 11 - Special Edition

Stage 11
 
At 11 O’clock
In Red Rocks
A patriotic
Jimi Hendrix
Jumps into the back of my car
And says he doesn’t have far
To go
And drive slow
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
I never asked for this
Something is amiss
 
In the 11^th inning
The other team is winning
A trusting manager
Calls the rookie hitter
My heart opens wide
As I nearly cried
To the plate
And swing at our winning fate
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
I only dreamed of this day
What else can I say?
 
The 11^th man
Stands
Up in silent admiration
Faced with a conundrum
She steals a glance
And I break my stance
A simultaneous greeting seems
To find the woman of my dreams
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
Just when least expected
A scene is directed
 
On Highway 11
Stopped by a voice from Heaven
But I prefer to depart
And argue in my heart
To be a Good Samaritan
But faith in action
Resulted in something far greater
Than what I had planned for later
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
I never dreamed of this day
What can I say?
 
At 11am among the youth
We are surrounded by truth
At a church on the hill
As the wind sends a chill
Despite my imperfection
A voice provides direction
Even at my age
But who’s on center stage?
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
I never asked for this
Something seems amiss
 
11 remain
Not the same
After the tomb
In the upper room
They slept on rocks
Among the flocks
Now it was their turn
To spread what they had learned
 
How can this be?
Don’t you see?
I never dreamed of this day
Give me the words to say!

 

Drawn - POEM of the MONTH!

Drawn
 
Drawn from one imagination
As all the beautiful images
From the Artist’s reflection
A thought before the Ages –
Why do we jump off the pages?

Fearfully and wonderfully made
Drawn in the same sketchbook
But we’re so easily swayed
Wondering what’s the next look
Making up our own rulebook

From a sickness of the heart
As the lost lead the lost
Even drawn to the aberrant
Ignoring the inevitable cost
Deception without exhaust

Soon the pages decrease in art
Not by lack of brush or pen
Or the inability to impart
But drawn by the creation
To the point of degradation

Unrecognizable to any eye
We become indelibly blind
As the images believe the Lie
And warp the original design
Drawn away from the Mastermind

~

Similar in theme to The Road Map [a pantoum]