I'm a conservative Christian, I love wolves, dogs, and horses. I, of course, love writing! I play the piano and I hope to become a forensic anthropologist and/or toxicologist and published author! more »
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Natasha Foster Poems
Alone is what she's used to, Alone is what she knows. Alone, not having much to do, Alone is how she goes.
His Kingdom by the Sea
It was long ago when He and She lived in this Kingdom by the Sea, But He left it to me, And gracious, I'll be
God's Newest Star
Though she was known as Sky, She became God's newest star today. She rests peacefully on high, But not much can keep the pain at bay.
This is the end of him, Here he lies; My greatest love, my greatest enemy. Out of the night that covers me,
God dreamed a man, A beautiful beast of a man. Beyond my window in the night, He calls my name,
Gasping for Breath
Walking down the trail, Snow falling, freezing the world. I can see my breath, It's being taken from me.
Bright, Yellow Sun
The bright, yellow, early sun, Shines down on the grass. The morning dew, Sparkles like white diamonds,
Never Forgive, Never Forget
When I have no choice, It's not my fault. Everybody's a critic, Never forgive, never forget.
Lift me up, I will fall, Let me die, no reason why I should live, feeling so small.
They were only ten when they were taken, In a new home the did awaken. Held for four years, he escaped, Four more years, her heart ached.
Over by the mystic falls yonder, Where beneath the weeping willows she wonders. Where the wind is a whisper, She never has a nightmare.
The Lady of the Lake
'Twas at the lake where she was born, 'Twas at the lake where they did meet. 'Twas at the lake where she did mourn, 'Twas at the lake her heart did beat.
The Eagle and The Flag
I watched The Eagle soar to the mountains where the moon hides, As the family burdens I bore
Some Way Back
There must be some way back To the place I know best; But the picture's going black, I must be laid to rest.
Comments about Natasha Foster
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Alone is what she's used to,
Alone is what she knows.
Alone, not having much to do,
Alone is how she goes.
Alone she turns white,
Alone she turns cold.
Alone, she sees the light,
Alone, not yet old.
Alone, she makes the journey,
But she'll be alone no more.
She journeys into Heaven,
And there, she'd like to see you.