Tag Archives: Poetry

Fish out of water can’t swim
No retrofitted fins can take you through a cotton field
If you were born for the sea
Gills dry up with nothing to breathe
Mountain lions in a cage at a zoo
Will never show how they can climb truly
No matter how many features you build
To display them for the paying public to oogle
Country boy stuck on a subway
Dressed in slick shoes
Eating fancy meals like sushi
When he was made for a Chevy and boots and the SEC
Socialites left out in the sticks with no parties to organize
No manicures to get, no fancy hairdo’s
Writers with no pens or places to publish
Artists without canvas or galleries
Hoarders without rubbish
Grounded pilots
Mechanics separated from tools
A preacher without a bible or a pulpit or lost souls
Man without woman
Child taken from its mother
Feeling out of place
Searching for comfort
A vet with no animals
A farmer without seed
A skier in the desert
When it’s 100 degrees
A swimmer in the tundra
Covered in layers of fluffy nonsense
For someone
Who only wants a spandex suit
To move freely in water
The teacher with no pupils
Or none who will listen
An extrovert on a island with no one but Wilson
The quiet child in a room full of noise
And banter and overstimulating toys
A runner stuck on a treadmill
Longing for the road or a track or a course with hills
The musician who goes deaf but still writes the 9th
Putting voices in to sing about the Joy of the Creator
Love and kisses and conquering hatred
Every soul is striving to be it’s best
To find the place to draw life and give it
When stifling circumstances and squelched dreams seek to kill
The human spirit drives to find a place where it can fulfill
Purpose and design
What one was made for in this life
The salmon swims against the current
As it was born to spawn and die
So we all are pushing to the place
Where what we are created to be can be displayed.

– Sherry Carlstrom
October, 2013


Dig the gravel pits
Down deep
Tend the grapes
Man the battle stations
Keep the weapons clean
Beauty comes from
Working the field
Generations borne
Of Longevity
Get your hands dirty
Making the world clean
Raise up the harvest
Bring in the sheaves.

– Sherry Carlstrom

It’s no fairy tale, this Kingdom,

This hero is not make believe

This reality, this life we live

No melodramatic play,

With knights or gallant regents costumed on a stage.

“Tis no tale of fiction, woven on a page,

With unwritten rules not understood that cause the actors pain.

It’s not merely a Historic Epic or a dangerous mystery

With sweeping vistas crossing generations

With so many storylines you may lose position

The action and adventure are not meant to horrify,

Or speak in tones that make one groan or stupefy.

The plot is uncomplicated, with a main Protagonist

A Hero so perfect, so patient, He truly cannot be missed.

Amidst the many sub-plots the enemies of the Realm,

Seek to steal the thunder

Of the only One who can truly fill with wonder.

The Hero he is clothed in mystery, that is true,

Yet He chooses to reveal Himself to those who yield to His pursuit.

He is a lover so convincing in his  multitude of affections

No one could ever match His tender acts of sacrifice and passion.

He meets the needs of His love, even those unseen

He fends off every imposter, exposes every lying scheme

He understands all feeling and so empathizes

His  magnificent strength is matched by His kind and  brilliant mind

This is the real love story, the true epic mystery

It holds the ancient history and the secrets that we need

Flled with adventure and drama and the things in which we long to believe

The questions we want answered are all layered in the series

The ending and new beginning are even thrown in the bonus features.