Two rivers converged in a field of green
Entering one side I started to wade
I must go far upstream
To realize my glorious dream
While the heat of the summer day evade

I ripped the arrows from my quiver
When I came upon a raft to row
Couldn’t take a chance in the river
To drop an arrow from some shiver
Sharp arrows always a raft’s foe

The wind was cool and clean
Sol kissed the water with a smile
But up ahead dancing a beguine
A grizzly bear hungry and mean
This may very well be my last mile

I miss those little arrows from my quiver
But away they sail so I could row
To God’s throne they float down river
Ignoring my frantic screams they won’t come hither
I miss them now more than they could know

Donnie Bryson
1/19/13

The Ox, the Child, and the Promise of Ahman Deux

Still child with a bloody pour
Thunder clap and voice roar
From the throne it rings evermore
“You knew the ox would gore”

I have a promise from King Ahman Deux
“Never bind these oxen to subdue”
Yet the ground prays from a bloody pour
“You knew an would gore”

I winked and ignored my oxen
So my ship really has no coxswain
Still a thunderclap and a voice roar
“You knew some ox would gore”

A bloody pond prays from the ground
Cry of unkissed mother’s kiss its sound
Thundering as loud as the thunderclap roar
“You all knew an ox would gore”

— Donnie Bryson