The Stopped Clock

The gentle smooth motions
Of the hands forever passing
Stand still and quiver
With minute pulses pulsing.

The defined gentle off-tick
Is unable to be heard
Hours that went in whispers
Now pass without a word.

Until it can be lit again
And keep the time so well
It has to stay quiet "hush!"
Until pulled out of its spell.
Brittany Coffey, Nov 1999

Cocoon

The Sun Shines Down

The sun shines down upon my head,

Right now I'm happy that I am not dead.

To live to see a day as beautiful as this,
Gives me a feeling of pure bliss.

The birds are happy ,singing their song:
"To God we owe this day that we belong."

The bees fly up to their beehive,
And I am happy to be alive.

The sun shines down upon my head,
Right now I'm happy that I am not dead.
Brittany Coffey, June 1997

February 1977

Our red book: Generations. 

As the sun rises, the world awakens
yet half of it still sleeps
The birds fly high, soaring  in the wind
The flowers bloom, observing the heat
Of the flaming star
Animals wander, young ones staying close
to their mothers
The afternoon is quick, too soon for hunters.
The sun goes down slowly, leaving a path
for it to follow the next morning
The moon makes its appearance,
telling the world to rest sleepy eyes
As lights go out, one half of the world
awakens to the glorious day ahead of them.
Janine Cottrell, Feb 1977

Generations.