Thursday, April 01, 2010
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Reflections
Reflections deep within the caverns of my mind,
a place in dreams of flight where often I do find.
And in that place that’s filled with images of things that are so tragic, I simply rise above the ground in a dream that is like magic.As I soar so high above the ground and see the struggles down below, and in those dreams now I can in essence fly where only angels dared to go.
Winston Roy March 22 2009
a place in dreams of flight where often I do find.
And in that place that’s filled with images of things that are so tragic, I simply rise above the ground in a dream that is like magic.As I soar so high above the ground and see the struggles down below, and in those dreams now I can in essence fly where only angels dared to go.
Winston Roy March 22 2009
Monday, November 20, 2006
"Our Cat Moochy"
“Our Cat Moochy”
1949
Story told by Winston
November 18 2005
This is a story when we were children; it is about Old Bill our border and our beloved black cat Moochy.
Being a superstitious cantankerous curmudgeon, Old Bill would quibble over our black cats’ right to exist!
I don’t know why Moochy would want to rub against Old Bill’s leg? But he did!
And Old Bill would kick in Mooches’ direction and say, “Curse you and get the hell away from me you God damn black cat!”
I asked Old Bill, “Why don’t you like Moochy? He likes you! ”
Old Bill answered, “Because black cats is bad luck, and I don’t need no more bad luck!”
Being only seven this was hard for me to understand, how could a black cat bring anyone bad luck?
So I asked Mom, “Do you think because Moochy is black that makes him bad luck?”
Mom answered, “No dear that’s only a superstition.” I said, “Would you tell Old Bill that! He hates Moochy.”
Mom answered, “Hate is a strong word, I think Old Bill likes him, he just doesn’t like to show it.”
I said, “If Old Bill likes Moochy, he sure has a funny way of showing it!”
Mom asked, “Why do you say that?” I said, “He tried to kick him!”
Mom explained, “Old Bill didn’t try to kick him, Moochy was bothering him and he just shooed him away!”
Later that day Dad came home a little drunk,
Later that day Dad came home a little drunk,
when he was like that Dad had this thing about holding us by the thumbs so we couldn’t get away!
It hurt and I didn’t like it so I gave him a kick in the shin and he let go!
Mom asked, “Winston did you kick your Father?”
My answer was, “He was bothering me so I just shoed him away!”
Mom did the face thing where she would make her mouth go to one side and said,
“It’s not nice to kick your Father!”
I answered, “I know that! And it’s not nice to kick a cat even if he’s black”
I think we all learned something on that day so long ago,
except Moochy,He kept on rubbing up against Old Bill’s leg, and Old Bill kept on cursing him.
This is only the first installment about our cat Moochy.
"In my dreams of lakes and streams"

In my dreams of lakes and streams, is now the only place it seems.
a place that still will keep a promise to remain as clear reflections of our time.
The one true bastion that I thought could never ever end,
I think the time is almost here when rivers cease to bend.
In my dreams of lakes and streams the time is not to late,
we can change the way live and not accept it as our fate.
For we all know the best of dreams can quickly come undone,
or sometimes change before the early rising of the sun.
And through it all I dread to hear the lonely night bird call,
for he cannot be the only one to see the writing on the wall.
But if this has to be and all will change, and life in all it's beauty we must rearrange.
Reflections in my painting that I show in mostly gray,
will help you see a special time of morning on a gentle rainy day.
If I could paint a perfect world for everyone to see,
it would reflect my dreams and hopes for an eternity.
Composition by Mr.Winston
January 30 2006
a place that still will keep a promise to remain as clear reflections of our time.
The one true bastion that I thought could never ever end,
I think the time is almost here when rivers cease to bend.
In my dreams of lakes and streams the time is not to late,
we can change the way live and not accept it as our fate.
For we all know the best of dreams can quickly come undone,
or sometimes change before the early rising of the sun.
And through it all I dread to hear the lonely night bird call,
for he cannot be the only one to see the writing on the wall.
But if this has to be and all will change, and life in all it's beauty we must rearrange.
Reflections in my painting that I show in mostly gray,
will help you see a special time of morning on a gentle rainy day.
If I could paint a perfect world for everyone to see,
it would reflect my dreams and hopes for an eternity.
Composition by Mr.Winston
January 30 2006
Labels: POEM
Sunday, November 19, 2006
"Jeanies Garden"

“Jeanie’s Garden”
It’s sad to see the garden now where Jeanie’s garden used to be!
The Devils claw does suck and dine,
outside of Jeanie’s window where the Angel Trumpets grew so fine.
The flowerbeds in disrepair no scent of flowers fill the air,
and no one even seems to care, where Jeanie used to live.
I know I heard the rosebush cry, when petals fell too soon like Jean would die,
upon the ground with grace and sadness never more a lasting gladness!
All the beauty has gone by, from Jeanie’s lovely garden!
Mr. Winston
August 19 2005
Mr. Winston
August 19 2005


