A SONG IN MY HEART (c) By Polly Guerin

Rejoicing I sing a song of joy each day

Hoping the feeling will not go away

But be my life’s melody, set me free

A glad-hearted chorister I’d be


Raising voices resound in gratitude

With songs of high-powered latitude


I celebrate the glory of life’s rhythm

My heart beats in tandem notes given

Lofty voices spread harmony everywhere

I choose lilting songs with loving care

Spreading a global symphony of peace

Bringing the world comfort and release

Celebrating life lift up your joyful voice

Be harmonious glad keepers and rejoice.


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AUTUMN RAINBOW (c) By Polly Guerin

The dazzling sun floods the forest

Turning leafy branches into a
Painter’s autumn palette of hues

A mélange of greens from vibrant jade

To pure mossy tints framed in gold

High above in the canopy hints

Of orange, pumpkin and a splash

Of scarlet red darts between

The symphonic blast of colors

That only nature can produce

With a hint of royal purple here

A few wildflowers linger with

Goldenrod reigning supreme

While the green laden path below

A winter’s tale with its foreboding

Chill closes out Indian summer

And white wood asters begin to fade

The wind plays a myriad of tunes

A bird soloist pours forth sweet song

And in this solitude slivers of silence

Stills the discordant highway sounds nearby.

DEAR JOHN LETTERS (c) By Polly Guerin

Every other day I receive a Dear John letter

And things don’t seem to be getting any better

It’s not the kind of letter you have in mind

In short it’s worse, it’s really a crime

You see, I’ve been rejected again and again
So how in the world should I find time to defend?

My Novel, it’s bound to touch somebody’s heart
So why do I complain from the start?

Cause this is the 20th Dear John I have received
How did my story angle get rejected, I grieve

Could my heroine have been more mysterious?
My hero so in love that he’s delirious?

Just what do these editors want anyway?
When my book gets published they’ll rue the day

They passed my novel up without recourse
Perhaps self-publishing is the course

To take, at least for now before I break
Let me see my novel in print for goodness sake

I’ve enough Dear Johns to plaster the walls
My vim and vigor has been untimely stalled.