Tag Archives: rhyme

Happy Anniversary honey

Every day I look at you
Thanking heaven and stars
For that first day we met
And bringing us this far
I never quite imagined
A life as wonderful as this
And every day I’m in awe
Of this sweet wedded bliss

I remember seeing you
Back of church at the aisle
And as you walked towards me
It seemed like miles
I just couldn’t stop smiling
At the very sight of you
My love, my heart, my very bride
To start our life anew.

And now here we are
Nine years from that special day
I’m still so in love with you
It never diminishes or fades away
In fact it just keeps on growing
As we add days to our history
A forever love counting another year
Happy Anniversary…

*For my beautiful, loving wife Heather, with all my heart on our 9th wedding anniversary. ❤💏 Love you baby!

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Dark Eyes & Bated Breath

“Dark Eyes & Bated Breath”

I walk through the house stopping every clock

So the hands of time would be still

For I wish to capture this moment for eternity

And bring it back to me at will.

Her form and face etched upon my eyes

The taste of her skin to linger on

The melting kiss from her sweet soft lips

Her voice holding me within her song.

I never thought there would be such a love

I could know beyond imagined prose

That I would attempt to stop the time

And freeze it before she goes

To savor her frame where it lies

Wrapped up with mine like this

To drink her lips like morning dew

Or perhaps an evening kiss

While angels sing to lost lonely lovers

I will lose myself in her depths

Forevermore to be held in thrall

In dark eyes and bated breath.

2017 Paul D Aronson.

Waking Up From The Hashbury Dream 

“Waking Up From The Hashbury Dream”

They came from all over, the migration of ’67

to Haight Ashbury in search of the new,

away from the world their parents had created

from the ashes of a time gone askew.

They wanted a world where all could live together

and for a time it seemed to be so,

The Airplane took off, and Big Brother landed,

bringing a sound to San Francisco.

Music, the freedom that was denied before them

“all you need is love”, The Beatles had said,

an age of aquarius took shape that summer

live at the Fillmore, The Grateful Dead.

“tune in, turn on, drop out,” the new revolution

Timothy Leary spoke from the be-in floor,

Joan Baez urged girls “say yes to boys who say no”

to the draft and the horrors of war.

Owsley’s acid opened minds to a new awareness

the magic bus came riding into the town,

of love and peace, all of the flower children

celebrated the new community they’d found.

In the beginning there were mimes and Merry Pranksters,

by ’70 there’d be Charles Manson and rage,

while King had a dream, and Bobbie K had a vision,

someone pulled a trigger and turned the page.

Non-violent protest demonstrations took form

finally the boys were coming home from ‘nam

But more were sent right back out to Cambodia

by the brilliance of Nixon and old Uncle Sam.

On college campuses soon all was in chaos,

National Guard killed 4 in Ohio state

while the world outside the new hippie gathering

pretended everything was great.

Abby Hoffman gave a cause to the activists,

while Grace Slick showed the Black Panthers sign,

The Chicago 8, the Oakland 7, both were deep sixed,

so much for a revolution this time.

Still music and love continued to flourish

sweeping ‘cross nation to Woodstock unaware

until the throng came packing to see the circus

“look at the bums with flowers in their hair.”

At Altamont Speedway, a free concert took place

Marty Balin knocked unconscious mid song,

while Hell’s Angel’s beat a black man to a cruel death,

the band was ordered to play on.

The seasons of love had now become brutal

in another year both Joplin and Hendrix would pass

from this psychedelic world into the next one

the end of an age would come at last.

In the summer of love a dream was born,

but it became corrupted along the way

media and consumerism came sweeping like vultures

to make profit from the city by the bay.

and while the alternative press tried to print the truth

the world screamed it was drugs and sex

for the reason that the utopia was dying

to leave the new youth culture a wreck.

One October in a coffin they lay “the hippie” to rest

a symbolic gesture to show it was done

the end of an innocence, let’s all go home now

we’ll never see this again under the sun.

They came from all over, the migration of ’67

within a few years they abandoned the scene

yet for a moment there was a brief flash of beauty

before waking up from the Hashbury dream.

© 2002 Paul D. Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

Dear Miss Sarah Lynne (a letter from war)

“Dear Miss Sarah Lynne”

Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

I hope this letter finds you well,

Sometimes it’s not easy to write

As I’m sure you can tell;

I hope mom and dad are doing fine

And the farm is coming along,

The thought of it makes me think of home

Or a sweet old country song.

How’s little Steffie’s braces fit?

Tell her don’t worry they’ll come off soon,

And all the boys will notice her

As if she’s the only girl in the room;

I imagine it must be summertime

The nights here are pretty cold,

And sometimes the fellas just sit around

Wishing for someone to hold.

Did daddy’s crops come in good this year?

How’s mama coming with that quilt?

Is grandpa still tinkering on that car

The one he swore up and down he built?

And how are you doing Sarah?

I’ve been looking at your picture for days,

As the bombs go off all around me

I sometimes wish myself away.

I know that I’ve never met you

And it’s possible that I never will,

But when I imagine you’re my girlfriend

It helps me out here in the fields;

I don’t know how to tell you this

But I guess the truth is best,

I haven’t much words of comfort

Except to say he loved you best.

Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

I regret to inform you this way,

But your brother died in battle

And he was buried here yesterday;

He gave me your picture

And asked me to take the time to write,

In his last moments he told me all about his kin

And the fading of the light.

I’m so very sorry for your loss

I wish there was more I could say,

But I’m only a farm boy myself

Just trying to get through each day;

I was wondering if I make it through this

If it would be okay to come and call,

By then this picture may be long faded

But I won’t forget your face at all.

I guess I should be going now

Soon we’ll be shipping out again,

But I just wanted you to know

Your brother was a hero unto the end;

Please pray for me and the other guys

Sometimes out here we feel so alone,

For we’re all someone’s sons and brothers

Just dreaming of that place called home.

By Paul D Aronson

Princess Of The Captured Sun (a fairy tale in verse)

Long, long ago during a dynasty long forgotten

lies this tale that I’m about to begin

about the princess of the captured sun,

the one they call Fairamena Bryn.

Now she demanded of her father, the King

that she would never marry or be bethrothed,

save to the man who could capture the sun

and present it before her and the throne.

Her youthful beauty was legendary even then

inspiring suitors and charlatans alike,

who came to the palace in vain attempts

to capture the sun, try as they might.

Even Prince Schez-bala with all his fine gifts

could not meet the Fairamena’s demands,

and the sun herself stayed in the sky

to shine down upon the mountains and land.

There came a King from a land unheard about

and he tried his very best to succeed,

but alas there was no way to capture the sun

so he left to marry another, I believe.

A soothsayer came with a grandiose prediction

of how he would win Fairamena’s love,

but she replied, “not until you bring me the sun

or capture it from the skies above.”

They came and they came, until all men had lost

and none had achieved the prize

of being the one to marry the cute Princess

with the dark, almost almond eyes.

Her father, the King, with grim disappointment

was distressed and much sadly declared,

“my daughter, your demands seem way too great,

no one can snatch the sun from the air.”

But the Princess replied, “I’m sorry father

but I can’t give my heart away to just anyone,

for I have guarded it safely all of these years

so that it too may shine as the sun.

and the man who can capture the sun herself

in all her bright and stunning love,

is the only man who can hold my heart near

and be the one that I have dreamed of.”

“But they have come from far and wide”, said the King

“and it’s impossible to do what you ask,

they’ve tried and they’ve tried, some foolishly

but there’s no way to perform such a task.”

The Princess smiled because she knew somewhere

there was a man who could do this thing,

and she just would not settle for anything less

if her heart were to smile and sing.

Then one fateful day another suitor came calling

from the village of The Princess Bryn’s birth,

and he came bearing gifts with many good wishes

that he’d dug from the very earth.

He’d made pretty bracelets and sparkly anklets

to present to the princess with love,

and he told everyone he met along the way

that he could give her the very sun above.

So brought before the King and the whole court

the man announced, “I am Shakir-badhrou,

I’ve come for the hand of the fair princess

no matter what it is that I must do.”

“But you’re a peasant, not close to royalty”,

the King uttered in his most regal style,

“we know you, you used to make trinkets

of colored glass for the princess as a child.’

‘It will take much more than colored glass baubles

to impress us to give you her hand,

but if you can manage to capture the sun

then I’ve no choice but to declare you her man.”

Shakir smiled, “true, I am but a glassmaker

but love has impressed upon my heart

to stand before the sweet princess here today

with all my soul to impart…”

But the King Interrupted, “enough of these words,

can you do what the princess requires?”

Shakir replied, “I will catch the sun for love

and then show you a beauty even higher.”

They all stepped in the courtyard to watch his attempt

he showed them pieces of pretty painted glass,

until he produced one that was seemingly clear

“Now I will do what you have asked.”

He held out the glass and he captured the sun

within its reflective surface to shine,

“gaze upon this glass where I’ve caught it real

and for a moment it is yours and mine.”

All were astounded for there was the sun

in this piece of glass the peasant had brought

“when you want the sun, just use this glass

as long as it shines, it is caught.”

The court then applauded and the king was surprised

but the princess she gleefully smiled

as if some plan within her heart had worked out

though it had taken quite a little while.

Shakir said, “now behold… beauty herself

much greater than the shining sun”

and he held the glass to Fairamena’s face

“look, there is the most loveliest one.”

And in the glass the Princess saw her reflection

smiling back and fallen in love,

“This man”, she said, “he will be my husband

for he has captured the very sun from above.”

Shakir smiled at his pretty soon-to-be bride

and kneeled close for only her to hear

“my love, finally we no longer will meet in secret

but instead will forever be near.”

“I could never, ever marry anyone but you”

she whispered, “this plan was the only way

to ensure that you and I would be together

instead of Father selecting someone for me someday.”

But the King and the court didn’t hear these things

it was declared, “Shakir’s the one!”

and love beamed proudly from the sweet face

of the Princess of the captured sun.

And so is the case in tales such as these

that we sometimes hate to see the story end

but as we go back to our own little lives

theirs really only starts to begin.

and let me just say as a moral to learn

that if you’re dreaming of romance today

no matter how impossible it may seem to be

love will always find her way…

Poem by Paul D Aronson.

Photo credit unknown. 

“In The Hours ‘Fore The Dawn”

In the hours ‘fore the dawn,
‘tween shadows and light,
I cower from the daybreak,
And mourn the ending of night.

When dreams flicker and fade,
Like a silent movie reel,
My sanctuary is broken,
And the fantasy unfulfilled.

The real world screams loud,
A cacophony of truth,
And I cry with the lonely,
Of ripe age and of youth.

For I don’t want to wake,
To find my dream is gone,
I always dread these moments,
In the hours ‘fore the dawn.

By Paul D Aronson. 2002. All Rights Reserved.

Strange Days Indeed: The Monster (poem) 

​The Monster”

The monster comes for me at midnight, 
Sometimes he waits until 2, 
He knows I’m under your protection, 
And he waits until I’m away from you. 
He laughs and howls in the darkness, 
Waiting for our love to sleep, 
Then he comes stirring the waters
That threatens to drag me to the deep. 

The monster’s memory I can’t escape, 
Though I know that I’ve tried, 
But ever since I was a little child, 
Something’s lain buried inside. 
Get away from me I want to scream, 
Don’t come around here no more, 
I lie in the darkness so afraid, 
He’s on the other side of the door. 

These fears arise when I’m alone, 
no one else can really see, 
The monster comes when I least expect, 
Always haunting me. 

By Paul D Aronson. 2003. All Rights Reserved.