R. K. Hart
I would'nt call my self a poet artist. I write more as a tradesman poet. trying to create something that brings bring a little joy to the hearts of others and achievement for myself. more »
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R. K. Hart Poems
She Is My Home
There is a most wonderful girl who is my sum. I will tell you now you call Mum. She has the beauty of the queen of the Nile. I could not live without the glimpse of her smile.
Why do you only see me when I cry, And not when my eyes are dry. Only when my happy heart is broken, And not when happiness has spoken.
Lovers and Loving
Lovers float gently past Lilly pads flowering, Swans pass in pairs long necks caressing. Stealing behind her parasol for a kiss are sweet hearts, A couple share a basket of small sandwiches and sweet tarts.
A Fathers Words To His Child.
Children are the gentle breezes for which parents plea. They come they play around us then they flee. We would hold them to our breast, Protecting against all of life's dreadful tests.
I was walking by the river one day, When I saw a young girl throw something away. She removed it from her hand, Then with her foot stamped it into snow white sand.
He can open the petal of the dark red rose. And bring it's sweet scent to my nose. He can teach a spider to spin its intricate web. And grow a glorious flower in its dark soiled bed.
I spoke to the stream about the soft blue of your eyes, After many a try to copy she failed and cried. I told the harvest about the colour of your golden hair, It tried to mimic a beauty beyond compare.
Mother and son enjoyed the painted horses and foals, As they galloped up and down on golden poles. Mother thrilled at this beautiful sight of joy, Almost more than the experience, it gave her little boy.
Strengh in Sorrow [Mary]
Come look at me if you please, a woman honored by all. To show great strength in sorrow was her call. From a humble village she came, much bereft. Nathanael said, "Can anything good come from Nazareth"?
Prayer On The Valley Road
I love to walk by the willows along the valley road, Just before sparkling stars fade and night turns to dawn. When nocturnal creatures return to their homes, Lazy mist lifts from the stream and birds greet the morn.
Roses come into our lives then fade a die, Some yellow others red as a summer's sky. There are other roses that enter ones life, Grand Children, husbands or a wife.
He Rides The Dog Fence.
He Rides The Dog Fence. He rides the dog fence a top his red grey horse, Checking for damage, camels, sand, and wild dogs the source.
The moon has lost it’s comforting embrace, On the earths’ gentle face.
Who Can Find Her.
Did you find this woman beyond worthy? She would be heavenly, one beyond earthy. Money does not buy one just so, Her husband trusts her till his heart does glow.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
She Is My Home
There is a most wonderful girl who is my sum.
I will tell you now you call Mum.
She has the beauty of the queen of the Nile.
I could not live without the glimpse of her smile.
She is my safe port on stormy days,
She empowers and comforts by her ways.
Her words and actions to others,
Are those of wife and caring mothers.
I smile when I hear her words of song,
I am made aware all is right and little wrong.
Her gentle voice calms a troubled heart,
And causes my worries to depart.
We build places of brick, timber and clay,
These edifices will...