Along with stories, I have for most of my life, enjoyed writing poetry. Some ok, some bad, some terrible, and once in a long while, a winner. You be the judge, and please leave constructive feed back.

Friday, December 12, 2014

Clouds On A Cold Windy Day

Clouds On A Cold Windy Day
I see clouds following their skyward way
Rolling through a sea of flawless blue
As they cross from west to east this frozen day
They are not staying here, just passing through.
They cast cold shadows on the winter grass
Brown and grey and frosty on the ground.
The only evidence that they have passed
Is the chill they leave, then they're eastward bound.
They left the mountains as I watched the sky
And came my way with unhurried haste
And now overhead they're speeding by
As if they're late and have no time to waste.
Over east they'll disappear from view
Across the dappled Piedmont's rolling hills
I stand and watch, with nothing else to do.
Unlike them I am at peace and still.

(c) James Lee Frady 12/12/14

Monday, December 8, 2014

On Calhoun Mountain

On top of Calhoun mountain,
Blows a cold and lonesome wind.
It moans in the naked treetops.
Like a spirit who has no friends.
It flows up the frozen valley,
And finds me in this place.
It's knife-like fingers caress me,
And cut at my cold, cold face.
On top of Calhoun mountain,
The darkness fades toward dawn.
Pink clouds over eastward.
Tell me the day is coming on.
As I sit here in the stillness,
And the bright stars start to fade.
A rooster in the distance
Is crowing in the day.
On top of Calhoun mountain,
There is snow upon the ground.
The windswept peak is drifted
The snow is swirling around.
The birds which had been huddled,
Beneath the limbs bowed low.
Are stirring with the morning light
And fluttering to and fro.
On top of Calhoun mountain,,
Where the wind blows and sighs.
It's cold and clear and lonely ,
And lovely to my eyes.
On top of Calhoun mountain,
Is a distant, lonely place.
It's my lonesome jubilee
A place of peace and grace

(c) James Lee Frady 12/8/2014