Windows

Windows
Light bends from outside the church through the stained glass Jesus.
The black haired girl sits on her knees and does not notice it.
She prays, it is a part of the game.
“Dear God, Forgive me for my sins.”

She leaves to an evil world of temptation
She walks the streets, dangling her body in front of strangers.
She fears people, feels their eyes upon her, staring out of store windows and third floor balconies, but she couldn’t feel the eyes of god bending through the stained glass Jesus.

The priest found her body in the dumpster, on trick too many.
“Dear God please forgive her for her sins.”
He walked out of the church, oblivious of the light and the eyes of God glowing through the stained glass Jesus.

Written By Bryan Coltrane

Posted on 08/07/12

Chivalry

Chivalry

Knights do not wear armor anymore
It rusts, and was too heavy
These days’ knights come in three piece suits

And Sunday best
They are willing to trade both
For a chance to play in their birthday suits
Chivalry is not dead
Oh, it is just buried beneath layers of
Christian Dior and Cotton Dockers

Written By Bryan Coltrane

Posted on 08/01/12

Cornbread and Scuppernong Wine

Cornbread and Scuppernong Wine

The rays of the autumn moon rise on the horizon, winter is not far off. 
The light of the day has been gone for hours and all that remains is night, and the smell of food in the oven.
Each sip of the Scuppernong wine is warm to the touch, inside your lips and inside your soul. The sweet taste that lingers, long after the golden sun set, and the honey moon peeks its eyes over the wooded hillside.

Thoughts float in the waters of your mind, taking you back to a time, when sweet wine lingered long on summer days.
With an innocence not quite lost, and the love that was not quite gained.
Memories fill you, like a walk by the creek, with honey suckle kisses and raspberry dreams. The lightning bugs dancing around you, listening to the music of your heart, and the rhythm of your eyes.
Nothing fills those autumn days, like a pan of cornbread and Scuppernong wine, and memories that last, long past, the sweetness of that time.

Written By Bryan Coltrane

Posted 07/22/12