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Mark Anthony Kernan

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Prairieville, LA, US

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A Monday Gift From Me to You

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

I send to you this morning a gift of words, like a cloud delivering rain.
May they fall upon you ever so gently and wash away your pain.
For you and all your loved ones, I bow my head and pray.
May these prayers somehow guide you and help you find your way.

My thoughts and prayers are also with you, as you begin your day.
Only You and I, and God, know what these words attempt to say.
Never look into the past - move forward and straight ahead.
Do as your heart tells you, your soul will be fed.
Always remember how very special you are.
Your friendship to me is a beautiful, bright shining star.

For this friendship that we share, I send this small token,
May it somehow help you repair all that is broken.
There is a power on this earth greater than You and I,
He is the one who stirs your emotions and allows you to cry.


Behind The Yellow Rose

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Beaten, battered, and verbally abused, with her four children she fled.
For if she stayed, sheíd come to harm, or maybe sheíd end up dead.
He never saw her as his equal or thought of her as his best friend.
So fifteen years of "so called" marriage comes to a sudden and abrupt end.

He tattooed on his arm a yellow rose and his daughterís name.
Did he place them there to show his love or merely mask his shame?
The yellow rose, itís her favorite, this she concedes, but nonetheless
This frail attempt to say heís sorry, to her, does not impress.

Sheís moved on now, with no regrets, and so too has he.
Her dreams of bliss and harmony, never to be.
The childrenís time and affection, sheís been ordered now to share.
Her escape from his control is not so complete, and this causes her such despair.

Sheís on her own now, desperately trying to find her way,
Struggling, day by day, to make ends meet, with all those bills to pay.
Alone and confused she tries to make the best of her life.
Angry and bitter, sheís vowed to be, no manís wife.

As for him, heís remarried - to him itís just a game.
And one thing thatís for certain, he will treat her the same.
Heíll say Iím sorry for what Iíve done, it wonít happen again,
But itís a sickness in which he must indulge, he cannot abstain.

For her well being, I do fear and also for those around him.
For in due time, the monster within, will surely awaken to harm them.
With all this said, I sit here wondering if she knows
The terrible things he hides behind the yellow rose?

A Friday Gift From Me to You

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Here's a little friendship gift, I wish to offer you,
It's words, so carefully chosen, to prove my feelings true.
Of all the beings, in this world, six billion I believe, or so,
You are the one selected to reap what these words sow.

For every day that I've known you,
Richer I've become.
In thoughts, in deeds, and in visions of things yet to come.
Day and night you're on my mind,
And in my heart as well.
You and I friends forever time will surely tell.

The pain you feel, so deep within, is that, I hope to lift,
When today, you, my very special friend, receive this Friday gift.
For all your pain and suffering, God will take you in,
If you just remember, "You're on cloud nine headed for ten".

Behind The Yellow Rose

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Beaten, battered, and verbally abused, with her four children she fled.
For if she stayed, she'd come to harm, or maybe she'd end up dead.
He never saw her as his equal or thought of her as his best friend.
So fifteen years of so called marriage comes to a sudden and abrupt end.
He tattooed on his arm a yellow rose and his daughter's name.
Did he place them there to show his love or merely mask his shame?
The yellow rose, it's her favourite, this she concedes, but nonetheless
This frail attempt to say he's sorry, to her, does not impress.
She's moved on now, with no regrets, and so too has he.
Her dreams of bliss and harmony, never to be.
The children's time and affection, she's been ordered now to share.
Her escape from his control is not so complete, and this causes her such despair.
She's on her own now, desperately trying to find her way,
Struggling, day by day, to make ends meet, with all those bills to pay.
Alone and confused she tries to make the best of her life.
Angry and bitter, she's vowed to be no man's wife.
As for him, he's remarried - to him it's just a game.
And one thing that's for certain, he will treat her the same.
He'll say I'm sorry for what I've done, it won't happen again,
But it's a sickness in which he must indulge, he cannot abstain.
For her well being, I do fear and also for those around him.
For in due time, the monster within, will surely awaken to harm them.
With all this said, I sit here wondering if she knows
The terrible things he hides behind the yellow rose?

Brighter Days Shall Fall

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Oh how it is that thee has suffered so?
Penalty for reasons not, and imposed without just cause.
The pain, the tears, they stream on in endless flow,
Racing on at a punishing pace without courtesy to pause.
A sentence of such extent as to inflict unbearable pain.
Less one has walked as thee and journeyed down thy path,
Never shall they understand thy feelings of guilt and shame.
Or such price thee paid for freedom from the madman's wrath.
Oh how thee have suffered so - yet thee still endure,
Seeking out a better life searching for that love,
Looking for a shelter somewhere to feel secure.
A whisper in my ear delivers a message from above,
The blessings of the Lord will grant you all
Bide thy time, for on thee, brighter days shall fall.

Full Circle

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

There was a time, you would think,
When we were truly free.
That's not true today,
And may never be.
We fought for freedom and our rights.
First we had none,
And then we had plenty.
Now we have too many.
It's the same as not having any.
Mark Kernan

Wading In The Swamp

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

The water is high this time of year,
and I cannot get across.
The trees are bare and leafless,
and covered with Spanish moss.
The cypress knees are standing,
like soldiers in a row.
Just now as I stepped across a log,
I jumped a fawn and a doe.
Everthing looks the same to me,
the water and the reflection.
I must take note of my path,
For it's hard to tell direction.
I'd better be careful, for I could get lost,
Think I'll go ahead and turn back.
For mama will be calling me,
To bathe and eat and get ready for the sack.

The Wind Whispers Your Name

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

The wind whispers your name - I cry.
For I feel the pain, the weight of burdens you bear.
The wind whispers your name - I cry.
The cross you carry, an encumbrance I share.
The wind whispers your beautiful name - I know not why!
Still - I cry.

The Voices Of Fear

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Hearing his voice, seeing his face, it makes me so afraid.
It brings back all the memories of how I was betrayed.
Admitting that Iím scared, I feel so vulnerable and weak.
Its such an awful, painful, hurtful thing just to hear him speak.
My feelings of weakness fuel his strength while robbing me of control.
The pain, the hurt, the mental abuse all have taken such a dreadful toll.
I feel afraid Iím overwhelmed, and defenseless against his attack.
I have no strength to stand, fearful of an afflictive smack.
My soul now weakened by blows too many, my tears they turn to sand.
For I have cried tears of terror brought on by an abusive hand.
To look at me on the outside, one would never tell,
For my pain cannot describe to you the trauma delivered from hell.
But if you look closely at my mind, my heart, and examine my soul,
You would discover the scars are deep from wounds untold.
The fear remains because this I know, his persistence will not rest.
The rage will strike again, it is only paused at best.
I want no part of this manís life, of his attention I have no desire.
He questions me only to twist my words and proclaim me a liar.
Somehow I thought Iíd left this life oh so far behind,
But because of the children, our lives are forever intertwined.
So in fear, day by day, looking over my shoulder, I am condemned to live.
Controlled, cornered, and trapped, I have no reason to forgive.
Like a wagon load of logs dragging behind me, reaching in for what little is left
I feel the weight of this monstrous burden and of all hope I am bereft.

The Man In The Moon Speaks Of Thee

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Deep in the night as I lay in sleep.
The Man in the Moon - He talks to me
Whispering words of things that are to be.
Mountains thee shall climb - but the journey steep.

Late in the night whilst thee slumber.
The Man in the Moon - He talks to me
He speaks of love, peace, and harmony
No longer shall thee in mental anguish lumber.

All thee seek - shall find thee soon
The Man in the Moon - He confides in me
His word true - for of that He speaks - I see
Destiny shall find a convert in June.

The Man in the Moon - He talks to me
The Man in the Moon - Yea, He speaks of thee.

Sixth Sense

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Never have I treasured a friendship so dear.
And though we are worlds apart, I've always sensed you near.
You may find this hard to believe, but it's like a "sixth sense"
As though someone calls me to come to your defense.

Are there powers on this earth greater than we know?
To me it is very obvious, that these things are so.
To have such a special friend, I truly am blessed
In times of need I'll be there, to this I do attest.

Robbed Of Riches

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

When I was young I could not see,
All the things you were to me.
Life has changed and I have grown,
But I cannot tell you for you have gone.

Recipes From The Bayou

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

If you're cooking jambalaya, gumbo, or even cajun stew,
Brown the onions and the meat that's all you have to do.
Any type of meat is fine, rabbit, squirrel or any kind.
For jambalaya, add water and spice,
Then cook it down and add the rice.
For gumbo add water and roux,
Then cook it down, and add some filet' too.
For cajun stew add water and spice, there's nothing more to do,
Now cook it down, and then you're through.
These are the recipes from down on the bayou.

Off To See The Wizard

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

They say that nothing lasts forever,
And neither shall you or I.
From this earth, myself I sever,
But no one needs to cry.
Iíll travel down the yellow brick road,
Leaving all my world behind me.
Where He dwells Iíll make abode,
And rise above the bourgeoisie.
Should someone ask you where Iíve gone,
Tell them "Iím off to see the Wizard",
On a journey to a place unknown.
For what Iíll call "an extended visit."
To all I love I say goodbye,
For Iíve lost the will to live.
And as my departure draws nigh
A final thought-I gave to all, all that I could.

Last One Standing

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Worry not for my wellbeing,
Save the concern for others.
I know who it is that I am,
I will be there at the finish.
Never shall I quit, nor give in.
Regardless of the pain,
I can endure and will for sure,
Be there in the end.
Life is stressful - so demanding.
Fear not for me.
For I know for certain,
"Iíll be the last one standing."

Whitetails and White Lies

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

I killed a deer the other day.
I shot it while it was running away.
It was a doe, but I'll call it a buck.
What a hunter! and what good luck.
The rack was tall and very wide.
But I need not show the hide.
For if I did they'd know I lied.

Light Of Love

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

The inevitable end has ended,
new beginnings have begun.
Your fears of failure are forgotten,
with the rising of the sun.
Within the deep of darkness,
lives a light of love.
Its gracious guidance shall provide,
the means to rise above.

Life's Lessons Learned

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Lifeís lessons learned - oh so many!
From joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure,
Scales of sort by which we measure,
Our times of drought - times of plenty.

In times of toil - times of leisure,
Pleasance and painfulness, delusion and delight,
Sifting through the wrongs and rights,
It is but love that we most treasure.

The Big Is In The Little

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Inside a tiny acorn,
A seedling to invoke.
With or as if by magic,
Transformed to a mighty oak.

Taking root within the soil,
Seeking the warmth of sun.
Gaining substance from below,
Miracle of miracles has begun!

So too in life the seeds we sow
Good deeds that we may do
Little things we do for others
A nourishment to pursue!

Generosity of spirit strengths
Lack of warmth makes brittle.
Give a little - grow each day
For "the big is in the little."

Tears Of The Morrow

by

Mark Anthony Kernan

Rain today - rain the morrow
Tears of joy - tears of sorrow
Pitter patter - pitter patter
Teardrops fall - hear the splatter

Rain today - rain the morrow
Tears of gladness - tears of horror
Pitter patter - pitter patter
Teardrops fall - lives they shatter

Rain today - rain the morrow
My tears are dry - none to borrow
Pitter patter - pitter patter
Teardrops fall - but not to matter