GHOSTS OF OUR ANCESTORS


Where are the heroes that are rising from the earth?

Where are the youth who have ignored the truth?

The heroes and youth are no longer brave,

The truth is dead and buried in graves.

And ghosts of our ancestors are crying, crying, crying.

The truth is no longer remembered or respected.

And each of us prepares for civil war,

No longer do we listen like we did before.

We hear our own words and cut other words short.

And ghosts of our fathers come marching, marching, marching.

There are rumors of blood being shed in the hills,

There are dreams of street battles just for the thrills.

There are fingers poised to blast away,

Neighbors and relatives killed if they get in the way.

And the hearts of our fathers are bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.

We could be the heroes that are rising from the earth,

We could be the ones who respect the truth.

It will be our blood that will stain the soil,

Until our hatred ceases to boil.

And our ghosts are satisfied with

Crying, crying, crying

bleeding, bleeding, bleeding

marching, marching, marching.

Dying. dying, dying.

The ghosts will be satisfied when all is quiet and still.

September 24, 2017

Dan Roberson

 

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STATUE OF LIBERTY


STATUE OF LIBERTY

If the Statue of Liberty could talk,

What would she say to citizens today?

She might say, “I would not give the keys to my heart

To everyone by capricious whim.

There are those I would keep out,

And those I would invite in.

I would open the doors each day

And smile at those who come to work or pray,

An island greeting those who are ready to share,

The opportunities and love discovered here.

Those who come with bigotry and hate

And those who haven’t learned to celebrate

Differences,

I would ask them to wait.

My land is home for the weary, a place of hope,

A place they can adjust and learn to cope,

A place to shake fear from timid heart,

Leaving violence behind and getting a new start.

The keys to my heart would only be given

To those with new lives to begin.

This country was founded on blood, grit, and tears.

On that basis I have lasted for years.

To those who are here to prey

And steal all precious dreams away,

There should not be left any doubt.

I would select many to come in,

But there are those I would keep out.”

August 4, 2017

WHAT PORTION SHOULD I KEEP?


My dreams, my thoughts, my love, my life, my time
if I divided my day into precious moments
which ones would I keep
and which ones would I waste?
if every part was subdivided and clean,
would I be satisfied with only a taste?
what parts would I cling to?
Wasted life, unmanaged thoughts, neglected love, unfulfilled dreams,
I’m organizing now, paring down my list of friends, leaving no room for love.
I’m tired now, there is less joy, fewer ideas to employ,
I see my problem. I like to collect.
I want bigger dreams, more powerful thoughts, passionate love, longer life, and time for each friend and loved one. How can I portion out my life so it has more meaning?
I can choose to love you more, share my dreams, help those in need, and my life and my time will fill the void.

June 1, 2017

QUICKEN


“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
There was nothing I could do. Every time I saw her my heart would quicken and I would sweat profusely. My reactions were uncontrollable. I had no reasonable answer to her question. I tried avoiding her by misinterpreting what she meant. “How about them Yankees? Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
Of course, I could have simply said, “I agree with you that love at first sight is powerful and can knock someone for a loop.”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s the way I felt when I fell for your brother. It happened so suddenly I couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, and for a few wonderful moments I couldn’t breathe. That’s what I’m talking about.”
This changed my whole perspective. She wasn’t interested in me. I relaxed mentally but my heart was pounding. This was wrong. My life had been planned out for a long time. She didn’t know that my heart quickened and skipped a beat each time I saw her or even heard her name. This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to yell, to curse, or to take her into my arms and kiss her.
“Excuse me. You aren’t talking about you and me? You don’t like me? You are in love with my brother?”
“I was thinking about you, and considering whether I liked you just a little bit when I looked up and saw him. Now I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
Now there was a problem. I had spent several years enjoying my bachelorhood. Yet I was tired of being alone, tired of going through the endless questions and answers pertaining to my future. I just wanted to find THE ONE, settling down into a comfortable life, and loving forever.
She had recently invaded my dreams and I was slowly falling in love with her. No, I didn’t fall for her at first sight. I enjoyed her friendship and in my mind connections were made with a concrete foundation. I never anticipated she would find someone else, especially my brother. I couldn’t stand being around her while she gushed about him. She was my friend, not his.
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I thought I was in love with you but you ignored me and pushed me away. I’m glad we can still be friends.”
My anger flared. It was a flash fire out of control. “I can’t be friends with you,” I said. “I need much more than that. I want passion, not love at first sight. I want a love that binds, builds, and creates. I want my heart to quicken each time I see you. I want to hold your hand on long walks, kisses after we talk, and sharing moments of joy. Don’t you want the same?”
(To be continued)

BUT I DIDN’T


I never told you I loved you.

It would have been so simple

To make it very clear.

But I didn’t.

If I had called you dear,

You might have known.

But I didn’t.

I kept my feelings inside

Wrapped in my foolish pride.

Because I loved you.

I didn’t dream your love was so big

That you could love me too.

When I was examined

The doctor implied I was almost dead.

There was nothing he could do.

I thought I was hanging by a thread.

I wanted to tell you I loved you.

But I didn’t.

I underestimated your heart.

Before I died I wanted to be sure

You would be happy with life,

Somebody’s precious wife.

I introduced you to my best friend.

I wish I hadn’t.

The doctor was wrong,

My heart is strong.

And my friend looks very content

With the woman who was meant

For me.

If I had loved you for one fleeting moment

My dreams would be full,

But I didn’t.

 

4/22/2016

Dan Roberson

 

 

 

A Special Man


A Special Man

 

None of his wives

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

After work he would

Sit in his chair

Like a king on his throne

And his current wife would scurry about

Taking care of his needs.

Each claimed he was a special man,

But they weren’t slaves.

At his funeral his four ex-wives

(And his widow)

Showed up broken-hearted.

All loved and spoke highly of him.

But, if their words were true,

Which one poisoned him?

Which one loved him so much

She couldn’t share?

Who felt pain enough to break free?

One of them broke the spell

Because none of them

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

by Dan Roberson

No One Else Will Do


Love Songs (Heart album)
Love Songs (Heart album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’d call you my love,

Though I haven’t had the nerve,

Because you’re everything I wanted,

Much more than I deserve,

 

In my dreams you’re by my side,

That’s where you want to be,

I know what I see in you,

But what do you see in me?

 

If I could whisper in your ear,

And tell you of joys ahead,

I’d convince you of my love,

And take you to my bed,

 

Not tall tales but truths I’d tell,

And share with you my heart,

You would know how deep my soul,

And how much you played a part,

 

But don’t wait for me to say,

How much you mean to me,

Just know I have you in my heart,

That’s where you’ll always be,

 

I want to claim you for my own,

To share the whole world wide,

I’ll listen and love you as you are,

And I’ll look at you with pride,

 

You won’t have to read my mind,

To know what I think of you,

You’ll always be my love,

Because no one else will do.

 

 

 

Poets Are Like the Bees


Our world is full of flowers,

And poets are like the bees,

Pollinating the world with words,

Stirring the social breeze,

Orienting to the sun we fly,

We carry truths near and away,

Returning laden with nuggets of gold,

Gleaned from what people say,

Thus we enrich each teeming city,

As we chase the darkness with light,

And rid ourselves of fears and chains,

With each cleansing flight,

Our dreams are filled with hope,

As we swarm to new ideals,

Working to comfort wounded hearts,

Tirelessly sharing what we feel.

 

 

 

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