In that forgotten part of town Where wasted hopes and dreams abound, A wrinkled man with life near end, In hopes to have at least one friend, Fashioned bits of wood and things And made a dummy run by strings. He sat alone for hours on end, Conversing with his only friend And found delight within the fact That he controlled it's every act. He told it how he never had A chance, since all his luck was bad Although he'd tried so to succeed - The dummy nodded and agreed. And how his journeys in romance Had never given him a chance, And wasn't it a crying shame That he was always held to blame When everyone knew, oh so well, That life is but a living Hell, Controlled by lust and power and greed? The dummy nodded and agreed. With patience that would rival saints, That dummy sat through all complaints And, with each little expert tug, He'd droop his head or bow or shrug And give some comfort to the man Who held his lifelines in his hand And helped to fill a lonely need When he just nodded and agreed. Senility increased with time As did the old man's phantomime, And feverish fingers pulled with glee The dummy's dance of misery. They never left each other's side Until the day both stopped and died. We found them lying, hand in hand, The dummy - and his wooden friend.
I searched among the card displays, To see if I could find, A little something that would say Just what was on my mind. However there was not a one, That captured it just right, For no one else can understand Just what I'd like to write. I even find it difficult To try to write it down, For how do I portray to you, The love that I have known? I close my eyes and what I see, Is someone I adore; A person who is beautiful, Right down into their soul. Mere words cannot describe The many qualities you show, The love and caring nature that You share with those who know. Your kind and gentle temperament, Your sweet angelic smile, Your softly spoken sentiments, That reach across the miles. Your smile and laugh that sparkle with The softness of your sighs, The way your face lights up a room ... That twinkle in your eye. The loving gestures through the years, That quickly come to mind, For always you've a gentle word To calm and soothe I find. I struggle and I search to try To find some words anew ... And yet I cannot capture All the things that make you you. I shall therefore, be satisfied That you must simply know, Just how I feel about you, For with words I cannot show.
The soldier boy was sitting calmly underneath that tree. As I approached it, I could see him beckoning to me. The battle had been long and hard and lasted through the night And scores of figures on the ground lay still by morning's light. "I wonder if you'd help me, sir", he smiled as best he could. "A sip of water on this morn would surely do me good. We fought all day and fought all night with scarcely any rest - A sip of water for I have a small pain in my chest." As I looked at him, I could see the large stain on his shirt All reddish-brown from his warm blood mixed in with Asian dirt. "Not much", said he. "I count myself more lucky than the rest. They're all gone while I just have a small pain in my chest." "Must be fatigue", he weakly smiled. "I must be getting old. I see the sun is shining bright and yet I'm feeling cold. We climbed the hill, two hundred strong, but as we cleared the crest, The night exploded and I felt this small pain in my chest." "I looked around to get some aid - the only things I found Were big, deep craters in the earth - bodies on the ground. I kept on firing at them, sir. I tried to do my best, But finally sat down with this small pain in my chest." "I'm grateful, sir", he whispered, as I handed my canteen And smiled a smile that was, I think, the brightest that I've seen. "Seems silly that a man my size so full of vim and zest, Could find himself defeated by a small pain in his chest." "What would my wife be thinking of her man so strong and grown, If she could see me sitting here, too weak to stand alone? Could my mother have imagined, as she held me to her breast, That I'd be sitting HERE one day with this pain in my chest?" "Can it be getting dark so soon?" He winced up at the sun. "It's growing dim and I thought that the day had just begun. I think, before I travel on, I'll get a little rest .......... And, quietly, the boy died from that small pain in his chest. I don't recall what happened then. I think I must have cried; I put my arms around him and I pulled him to my side And, as I held him to me, I could feel our wounds were pressed The large one in my heart against the small one in his chest.
I sometimes find I'm drifting Through this life without effect; I often wonder if I'm truly Worth what I've been blessed. I search through days that have been hard, To try to understand, The many trials that I have known, The life that I have had. You see me in my daily grind, So confident and strong; Yet when I am alone, I question Just where I belong. I often try too hard I find, To analyze and guess, To scrutinize, investigate My life I will confess. For somewhere deeper, there must be Some meaning to this life, Some way to make a difference, Give a reason for this strife. Is there some hidden meaning? Some agenda to be found? A greater purpose waiting If I care to hang around? It teases and it taunts me, Always slightly out of sight; A hazy vision out of reach, Where darkness hides the light. I struggle to bring clarity To what awaits me there, And yet this weak illusion Always fades before my stare. It seems the harder that I try, To focus through the haze, Just serves to add more questions, Through my endless, tired gaze. Perhaps I'm trying just too hard, To understand it all, For can we ever truly know Just what we have in store? Each incident, each moment passed, Just adds upon the next, But in the end, will I find truth ... Or will I be perplexed? Perhaps I make it harder Than it has to be sometimes, But will my searching bring to me My meaning over time? Or will it leave me broken, And confused as I feel now, While questions bring no solitude, To this, my wrinkled brow.
The moon has risen the sun has gone,
The fairies come out one by one.
The stars light their way through the weary night.
They must get prepared for their untimely flight.
The winter has come much too soon.
They must flee this night, by the light of the moon.
The days are cold, the nights just as bad.
The fairies have lost what they once had.
The warmth of the sun, the breeze of the night,
Now they are desperate, fleeing by flight.
| About Me. | Cool Stuff. |
| Poems. | Index. |
