Sunday, November 27, 2011

A Softness

A Softness

I have known rose petals

Of beauty I cannot describe

They floated around me gently

From side to side

I thought these petals were

Meant only for me alone

Then one day I watched as they

Seemed different, somehow not mine to own

They seemed so soft and caring

T'was love I thought they brought

But I knew when I saw them and that

They seemed to be made of rock

All I wanted was a pureness

A softness I could keep

Tears stung my eyes as

They fell hard around my feet

Instead of softness they had

A hardness I had never seen

In something so beautiful

Yes, the tears did sting

But I know True loving petals

Will never fall so fast and hard

The True loving petals will fall gently

Floating as a soft rain, coming gently toward

That is when I will know Love

The rose will show me true

As petals fall so gently around me

They will be that True gift from You.

©Dana Waldrip-Price


Friday, November 11, 2011

A Statue I Am Not

A Statue I Am Not

I am here, don't you see

I am living, I am still me

I hurt inside that you don't see

But I am living, I'm here, I am me

I am as a Statue to you

Like a granite entity

Don't I exist to you anymore?

But I am living, I'm here, I am me

Perfect I will never be

No one is, not even you, you see

Seems I am as a Statue to you

But I am living, I'm here, I am me

Why do you think I always have to be

Happy and carefree, I have many worries

Seems I am a statue to you

But I am living, I'm here, I am me

You never anymore even notice me

The deep wounds I live with daily

Seems I am a statue to you

But I am living, I'm here, I am me

A statue only stands there

No words, no tears, no smile to see

Even a statue needs to be noticed and

I am living, I'm here, I am me

Middle of the dark night, now alone again

The ink from my pen bleeds out dry

How strange, I thought a statue

Couldn't write, feel or cry

My tears again flow freely, now in the dark

My deepest pain and sorrow, no one sees

That I am not a statue, made of stone

I am living, I'm here, please notice me.

©Dana Price

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

A Hard Lesson To Learn

She was battered and bruised, when I came home from school
Mom stood in the doorway, eyes black
Swollen and sore, mopping blood from the floor
The result of my father's attack
When I cried and asked why
My Dad’s reply, "Your mother went crazy again"
I'd seen it before when I walked through the door
Their arguing led to mayhem
I was but four when I saw the first time
Dad put fist(or worse) to mom's face
She'd bucked him before, she would do it no more
He would keep the bitch in her place
Mom hid it quite well, makeup covered the swell
And the black and blue marks that ensued
Only a couple good friends knew to what end
Mom's feelings toward dad had accrued
Once Dad’s attack took a broom to her back
Mom decided she'd had enough
"Touch me again and I'll kill you with my own hands
I won't take any more of your stuff"
Dad understood, mom meant to make good
On her threat if he touched her again
He could see in her eyes if there was a reprise
His life could come to an end
He really never kept his hands to himself, alcohol nor anger put on a shelf
Since everyday Mom would take it, give it, then stand her ground
I cannot forget, but I have one regret
That I never uttered a sound
Of protest or rage, for the war they would wage
Left me frightened, as any child would be
I hid from it all, ran to the ditch, or face to the wall
In a closet so I would not see
The lesson was tense, at my mother's expense
But I learned quite well what would be
I vowed from the start, and I knew in my heart
This would never happen to me!!


© Dana Price