"My Mothers Voice"

I first heard her sonant, in my conception of days,

where the womb held me silent, suspended in space.

The sound of her music, gave a comfort from fears,

while the angels in glory, wiped away every tear.

I remember her voice, from my earliest of days,

as we sat in the shade of the Live Oaks that swayed.

Sounds of her instrument, made me always feel sure,

when worlds that I knew, were so cold and disturbed.

Her voice seemed so flawless, like angelics of old,

she taught me her sonants, like her mother before.

This world not the same, as worlds once were in time,

for the sounds of her music, will not again meet with mine.

If I know some remorse, from this life that I've lived,

it's I never did tell her what her instrument did.

How the sound of her voice, was so wonderfully loved,

by her children of springtime, as we walked in her world.

Barbara A. Carlan 6/4/2009

"A Place"

A place to rest when day is done,

from gaurded watch within this home.

A faithful friend I determined to be,

as I took my place at my masters knee.

Those years I spent within this home,

joy I gave with the love they've shown.

Made our world a much sweeter place,

as I gave good love to my masters face.

Like the soldier who has stood his watch,

I've taken my place here beneath this rock.

To rest and sleep now my works all done,

to dream of trails we together roamed!

Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 9/2009

"Another's Story"

Endless curbing on concrete catwalks,

line the roads of busy towns of small talk.

Miles of asphalt creep thru grassy knolls,

where once anothers story was told.

Of dirt road traffick by horses driven,

and country people were simply living.

Tilling their crops, sown in early spring,

ending their labors, on a front porch swing.

Families gathered near, from exhausted joy,

to share the rewards, of the lives they sowed.

The setting of sun greets the evening damp,

as the early heavens produce galatic romp.

Children stilled listening to grand dads tales,

how once from the homeland on a ship he sailed.

How he traveled months on a merchants vessel,

to come to the new world to work and settle.

How he dreamed of land where he'd build a home,

then herd some cattle and allow them roam.

Then he'd find him a wife and sire them son's,

and work with his hands till the setting sun.

Where once was the homeplace now a parking lot,

and where the barn once stood all the peoples shop.

The pasture land where horse and cattle roamed,

now subdivision filled with cookie cutter homes.

Endless curbing flanked by concrete sidewalks,

lines the pavement of busy towns of small talk.

Miles of asphalt stretch through grassy knolls

where once another's stories were told!

Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 8/27/2009

"The Church"

"Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant. Make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever." Hebrews 13: 21-22