Hoosier Poetry
by Mark Orr
The following poems were written over the past few years and published on Poetry.Com. Servant of
the Bones was published in a poetry anthology entitled "Immortal Verses" and it, and "Lovely to See
You" have won the daily contest at Poetry.Com. Have a look and let me know what you think.
Thanks! Mark Sean Orr.....Henry County, Indiana.
Boys Of Summer

a tribute to the boys of summer
baseball's high and mighty
to those who played the game with grace
like joltin Joe and Whitey

hard work and dedication
swung Casey's heavy bat
and most of all they loved the game
you can be quite sure of that

the crack of the bat...the roar of the crowd
the smell of fresh cut grass
fathers and sons making memories
the kind that will forever last

I still get chills when I see the old reels
of the Babe pointing up to the sky
and after all these years I still can't hide the tears
when I hear Gehrig's recount of that final goodbye

So long to the boys of summer
To Mickey and Roger and Joe
I like to think they're still playing somewhere
and giving one hell  of a show.

Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean Orr
Published in book "21st Century Photography"  2009
Lovely To See You

Lovely to see you, it's been a long time
Excuse my appearance, if you can speak, please be kind.
Don't be frightened and don't run away.
I only get visitors on All Hallowes Day.

I'm lonely and restless, I need company my dear
I promise not to bite, if you lend me your ear.
I'm older and colder and falling apart
and longing for the warmth of your quick beating heart

So please stay awhile and we'll talk of old things
Of mysteries and murder and how the dead sing.
They do you know, they make beautiful sounds
I hear all their music from my abode in the ground.

We should begin, I have much to tell
and when the moon sets, you're not bound by my spell
I'll tell you my story of grief and woe
and when we are finished, I might let you go.

Mark Orr
Copyright ©2007 Mark Orr
A Boy's Flying WIsh
Mrs. Jackson and the Congregation
To those before us who showed us the way!

Sunlight lit Mrs Jackson's face
as she began to tell her story.
Amidst rows of pews, and brilliant hues
of streaming stained glass glory.

The congregation passed the plate
as Huldah testified.
I wondered where she found her faith
since Mr. Jackson died.

She'd turned to the Bible and found her comfort there.
Her son turned to the bottle and pretended not to care.

And as she spoke of faith and hope
to the restless congregation.
A line formed at the altar barring provacation.

even the irascible Mr.Maddy
knelt down on bended knee.
He thanked the lord for his Becca
and loving family.

God in his amazing glory was in our church that day.
He used a future angel to to show us all the way.

Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean  Orr
Published in book "A Midwest Pictorial" 2008
Servant of the Bones
A Vampire's Lament

Eternal...that is what I am.
A concept hard to own.
Elusive to the mortal mind lest insanity take hold.

How I loath to love the silence
of a long and transient sleep.
Then waken to the choas and sweet music of the street.

I've courted maids and royalty
befriended serfs and kings
Built pyramids! and watched them go the way , of other

I know of nothing earth or sky
that cannot see it's end
Except a presence...even I
cannot begin to comprehend

There's far more good than evil
in the world and in my soul
And one day I'll no longer be a servant to these bones.

Copyright ©2007 Mark Sean Orr
Lulu Poetry daily contest Winner for Wednesday, 21-April-2010
Poetry.Com Winner of iPod Shuffle

Fresh blistering asphalt, blackened young, tender feet
Tar bubbles popping as they ran full speed down Morton street
Careless,carefree summers soon to be etched in their minds
Long golden August days from a much simpler time

First stop Turner's market for pixie stix and gum
Then off to the Baker park as fast as they could run
Swinging so high , bare feet touching chamelion clouds
Singing sweet songs of summer , singing them out loud

In time we forget those golden summer days
They fade from our memory...lost to old age
But every now and again a moment seeps in
Through the eyes of our children where we find them again.

Mark Sean Orr
Copyright ©2007 Mark Orr
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transmitted, displayed or published without written permission from Collectors World Online.
Collectorsworldonline.com  ®2006
Mark Sean Orr
The Crypt Keeper

Such a brave crue, your comrades and you.
Venturing out under this devils moon.
Let me guess my friends..you seek a tale to tell.
Of the full moon'd night when you visited hell.

The welcome  young seekers of mystery and doom!
Come in to my crypt, I won't disappoint you.
It's not so bad really, if you can adjust to the cold.
The cold helps curb the smell of decay and mold.

I will tell you things that will turn every hair white.
And strike you blind with maddening fright.
Once total madness has taken it's toll,
the perfect awareness will swallow your soul!

The corpse talked on...long into the night.
His captive audience frozen with fright.
And when it was light out and a new day begun....
he let them all go.....all save one.

Mark Orr
Of Youth and the Sea

Crashing waves thunder round you,
the calling ocean is your muse.
You revel in the unknown depths of shallow greens,
greys and blues.

On the familiar barren shore,
you seek out where you used to hide.
Clutching only what you're willing,
to surrender to the tide.

\With no one else to lay the blame,
you make misery your own.
It wears so well upon you,
becomes your wayward home.

You've made your case and staked a claim
to the bitter tasting truth.
We are nothing! We are nothing...
Sadly nothing, without youth.

Mark Sean Orr
Copyright 2009
Lulu Poetry daily contest winner for Monday, 17-May-2010
Wrought Iron Bridge

The dance of life...so beautiful
Sweet memories we make
In morning unabandoned
Then we waltz at the end of day

\I danced on legs much stronger once
Not a tremble or a quiver
high up on the wrought iron bridge
above the rushing river

\Come down, you'll kill yourself she cried
But I did not heed her warning
I' was never so alive
as on that youthful summer morning
\And we still dance...

Mark Sean Orr
Copyright 2009
Lulu Poetry daily contest winner for Monday, 29-November-2010
Dearest Annie Margaret

I pray this letter finds you well
and ma and pa well too
we've just setled in at Galopulease
on this seventh day of June

\Our travel is for Nashville
once this god-awful rain subsides
we have yet to meet the enemy
but two good men, from my company
have taken sick and died

\whilst traveling the Ohio on the steamboat
I took fever and chills from the damp
was ordered top deck in the poring rain
for to play my fife and salut the passing camps

I love and miss you more than e'er
Your photograph keeps me alive
I can't wait to hold you again in my arms
Love from your soldier...Abraham
To my beautiful, darling wife.

Mark Sean Orr
Copyright 2009
                                   Star Singers

    last nite i dreaMt of travelers ...following A star
    east to west they journeyed ...Gifts in caskets and in jars
    they rode by nIght and slept by day..the star their only guide
    all thIs to see a baby boy....and kneel down by his side

    star singers we are great full...of your ancient hoLy quest
    to welcome tO the woRld...the one we know as blessed
    star singers we will not forget..the sacrifice you made
    never to return to home...and wander all your Days

    civil i say shun not these men...for they be Known as kings
    blessed with the wIsdom of the earth ...and even heaveNly things
    and just before I began to awake...i heard a Gentle voice
    "take comfort now that i have come and in all things do rejoice"

                                            Mark Orr 2010

                                    Chasing Rainbows

    On a tender summer twilight just after a rain
    I went chasing a rainbow to ask it it's name
    Hard roads turned to gravel and gravel to dirt
    I soon found my self standing near a disremembered old church

    Surrounded by tombstones...centurians of old
    Was the cusp of the rainbow ...with it's radiant glow
    Your name? What's your name? I yelled at the sky
    I stood there in silence and in hope of reply

    Soon followed.. a voice... from in front and behind
    Do you not see my temple standing nearby?
    Do you not feel the presence of the angels on high?
    Or hear them singing glory hallelujah as they pass each other by?

    It is Jacob's own ladder...built from blind faith
    An extension of earth to heaven's own gate
    So God where are you?..i asked quite beguiled

    I'm right here beside you....where i've been all the while

Mark Orr 2010

Lulu Poetry daily contest Winner for February 12, 2011.

Published in "A Few Good Words", an anthology by the
Cincinnati Writers Project (CWP).
Paint the Walls
For Cheryl

Every morning she awakens in a pain filled haze
It takes everything within her to begin each coming day
Her crooked, aching fingers grab a palette and a brush
She tries to paint her sadness out... but some days it’s too much

She sometimes sits cross legged at the painted window sill
and looks forlornly at the passing world ... the one she left when she
took ill
Her canvas paintings have all sold… the money's all been spent
one look upon her pallid face tells where the money went

So she moves slowly round her loft  in every room, in every hall
And she pours out her emotion painting every single wall!
She fills the walls with color! From the ceiling to the floor!
Then moves on to another room and paints the walls some more

Her life is there in muted tones laid out as in a book
And some day when she's here no more, the world will take a look.
Paint the walls! Paint the ceilings!
The fixtures and the floors! …and when the paint is run out
She will paint… no more.

Mark Orr©
June 2011

You are not afraid?
How can that be?
Do you not know who/what he is?
And yet you have no fear?
So you have met before?
And you ridded the girl of him?
And now he is back
You will send him away once more?
How do you know?
But you have met him. how can you  not fear him?

By Mark Sean Orr