| Hoosier Poetry by Mark Orr |
| The following poems were written over the past few years and published on Poetry.Com. Servant of the Bones was published in a poetry anthology entitled "Immortal Verses" and it, and "Lovely to See You" have won the daily contest at Poetry.Com. Have a look and let me know what you think. Thanks! Mark Sean Orr.....Henry County, Indiana. |
| Boys Of Summer a tribute to the boys of summer baseball's high and mighty to those who played the game with grace like joltin Joe and Whitey hard work and dedication swung Casey's heavy bat and most of all they loved the game you can be quite sure of that the crack of the bat...the roar of the crowd the smell of fresh cut grass fathers and sons making memories the kind that will forever last I still get chills when I see the old reels of the Babe pointing up to the sky and after all these years I still can't hide the tears when I hear Gehrig's recount of that final goodbye So long to the boys of summer To Mickey and Roger and Joe I like to think they're still playing somewhere and giving one hell of a show. Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean Orr Published in book "21st Century Photography" 2009 |
| Lovely To See You Lovely to see you, it's been a long time Excuse my appearance, if you can speak, please be kind. Don't be frightened and don't run away. I only get visitors on All Hallowes Day. I'm lonely and restless, I need company my dear I promise not to bite, if you lend me your ear. I'm older and colder and falling apart and longing for the warmth of your quick beating heart So please stay awhile and we'll talk of old things Of mysteries and murder and how the dead sing. They do you know, they make beautiful sounds I hear all their music from my abode in the ground. We should begin, I have much to tell and when the moon sets, you're not bound by my spell I'll tell you my story of grief and woe and when we are finished, I might let you go. Mark Orr Copyright ©2007 Mark Orr |
| A Boy's Flying WIsh Soon to be published in "A Few Good Words", an anthology by the Cincinnati Writers Project (CWP). |
| Mrs. Jackson and the Congregation To those before us who showed us the way! Sunlight lit Mrs Jackson's face as she began to tell her story. Amidst rows of pews, and brilliant hues of streaming stained glass glory. The congregation passed the plate as Huldah testified. I wondered where she found her faith since Mr. Jackson died. She'd turned to the Bible and found her comfort there. Her son turned to the bottle and pretended not to care. And as she spoke of faith and hope to the restless congregation. A line formed at the altar barring provacation. even the irascible Mr.Maddy knelt down on bended knee. He thanked the lord for his Becca and loving family. God in his amazing glory was in our church that day. He used a future angel to to show us all the way. Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean Orr Published in book "A Midwest Pictorial" 2008 |
| Servant of the Bones A Vampire's Lament Eternal...that is what I am. A concept hard to own. Elusive to the mortal mind lest insanity take hold. How I loath to love the silence of a long and transient sleep. Then waken to the choas and sweet music of the street. I've courted maids and royalty befriended serfs and kings Built pyramids! and watched them go the way , of other things. I know of nothing earth or sky that cannot see it's end Except a presence...even I cannot begin to comprehend There's far more good than evil in the world and in my soul And one day I'll no longer be a servant to these bones. Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean Orr Lulu Poetry daily contest Winner for Wednesday, 21-April-2010 Poetry.Com Winner of iPod Shuffle |
| Summer Fresh blistering asphalt, blackened young, tender feet Tar bubbles popping as they ran full speed down Morton street Careless,carefree summers soon to be etched in their minds Long golden August days from a much simpler time First stop Turner's market for pixie stix and gum Then off to the Baker park as fast as they could run Swinging so high , bare feet touching chamelion clouds Singing sweet songs of summer , singing them out loud In time we forget those golden summer days They fade from our memory...lost to old age But every now and again a moment seeps in Through the eyes of our children where we find them again. Mark Sean Orr Copyright ©2007 Mark Orr |
| ~ COPYRIGHT INFORMATION~ All information published on this site is protected by United States copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed or published without written permission from Collectors World Online. Collectorsworldonline.com ®2006 Mark Orr |
| The Crypt Keeper Such a brave crue, your comrades and you. Venturing out under this devils moon. Let me guess my friends..you seek a tale to tell. Of the full moon'd night when you visited hell. The welcome young seekers of mystery and doom! Come in to my crypt, I won't disappoint you. It's not so bad really, if you can adjust to the cold. The cold helps curb the smell of decay and mold. I will tell you things that will turn every hair white. And strike you blind with maddening fright. Once total madness has taken it's toll, the perfect awareness will swallow your soul! The corpse talked on...long into the night. His captive audience frozen with fright. And when it was light out and a new day begun.... he let them all go.....all save one. Mark Orr Copyright |
| Of Youth and the Sea Crashing waves thunder round you, the calling ocean is your muse. You revel in the unknown depths of shallow greens, greys and blues. On the familiar barren shore, you seek out where you used to hide. Clutching only what you're willing, to surrender to the tide. \With no one else to lay the blame, you make misery your own. It wears so well upon you, becomes your wayward home. You've made your case and staked a claim to the bitter tasting truth. We are nothing! We are nothing... Sadly nothing, without youth. Mark Sean Orr Copyright 2009 Lulu Poetry daily contest winner for Monday, 17-May-2010 |
| Wrought Iron Bridge The dance of life...so beautiful Sweet memories we make In morning unabandoned Then we waltz at the end of day \I danced on legs much stronger once Not a tremble or a quiver high up on the wrought iron bridge above the rushing river \Come down, you'll kill yourself she cried But I did not heed her warning I' was never so alive as on that youthful summer morning \And we still dance... Mark Sean Orr Copyright 2009 Lulu Poetry daily contest winner for Monday, 29-November-2010 |
| Dearest Annie Margaret I pray this letter finds you well and ma and pa well too we've just setled in at Galopulease on this seventh day of June \Our travel is for Nashville once this god-awful rain subsides we have yet to meet the enemy but two good men, from my company have taken sick and died \whilst traveling the Ohio on the steamboat I took fever and chills from the damp was ordered top deck in the poring rain for to play my fife and salut the passing camps I love and miss you more than e'er Your photograph keeps me alive I can't wait to hold you again in my arms Love from your soldier...Abraham To my beautiful, darling wife. Mark Sean Orr Copyright 2009 |
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- Star Singers
last nite i dreaMt of travelers ...following A star
east to west they journeyed ...Gifts in caskets and in jars
they rode by nIght and slept by day..the star their only guide
all thIs to see a baby boy....and kneel down by his side
star singers we are great full...of your ancient hoLy quest
to welcome tO the woRld...the one we know as blessed
star singers we will not forget..the sacrifice you made
never to return to home...and wander all your Days
civil i say shun not these men...for they be Known as kings
blessed with the wIsdom of the earth ...and even heaveNly things
and just before I began to awake...i heard a Gentle voice
"take comfort now that i have come and in all things do rejoice"
Mark Orr 2010
- Chasing Rainbows
On a tender summer twilight just after a rain
I went chasing a rainbow to ask it it's name
Hard roads turned to gravel and gravel to dirt
I soon found my self standing near a disremembered old church
Surrounded by tombstones...centurians of old
Was the cusp of the rainbow ...with it's radiant glow
Your name? What's your name? I yelled at the sky
I stood there in silence and in hope of reply
Soon followed.. a voice... from in front and behind
Do you not see my temple standing nearby?
Do you not feel the presence of the angels on high?
Or hear them singing glory hallelujah as they pass each other by?
It is Jacob's own ladder...built from blind faith
An extension of earth to heaven's own gate
So God where are you?..i asked quite beguiled
I'm right here beside you....where i've been all the while
Mark Orr 2010
| Lulu Poetry daily contest Winner for February 12, 2011 |
| Paint the Walls For Cheryl Every morning she awakens in a pain filled haze It takes everything within her to begin each coming day Her crooked, aching fingers grab a palette and a brush She tries to paint her sadness out... but some days it’s too much She sometimes sits cross legged at the painted window sill and looks forlornly at the passing world ... the one she left when she took ill Her canvas paintings have all sold… the money's all been spent one look upon her pallid face tells where the money went So she moves slowly round her loft in every room, in every hall And she pours out her emotion painting every single wall! She fills the walls with color! From the ceiling to the floor! Then moves on to another room and paints the walls some more Her life is there in muted tones laid out as in a book And some day when she's here no more, the world will take a look. Paint the walls! Paint the ceilings! The fixtures and the floors! …and when the paint is run out She will paint… no more. Mark Orr© June 2011 |