TOMORROW IS THE BEST DAY


Every day is sweeter than the day before,
Every day I love life a little bit more.
Starting with eye raising exercises,
Making my eyes look full of surprises.
Leaping out of bed, (o.k. If I’m honest instead)
I crawl out and sometimes bump my head.
I stumble down the hall, holding on to the wall,
Realize I’m getting shorter than ever, I’m growing small.
Saying, Parkinson’s Disease, you ain’t got me yet!
I mumble a few other words like….oh I forget,
But it’s still a beautiful day, and nothing’s in my way,
There are Tigers (lilies) and Lions (dandelions)
A whole world full of animals, wild, and free,
Living with gusto just like me, don’t you agree?
Sooner or later I might take a swim,
I might wait until the ocean is filled to the brim.
Splash around in water trying not to sink.
Wondering where’s my woman? She’s my missing link.
But I manage to survive another fine day
With God’s abundant love packed around my solitary life,
And just maybe I could have survived a wife.
I remember to count the stars shimmering silver on black,
They remind me there’s nothing I need and nothing I lack.
But just in case I forgot even one little thing,
There’s always tomorrow to add to my list
One more time to kiss or be kissed,
Tonight when I bow down to pray,
I’ll say ,Lord, I’m ready but I need one more day.
P.S.
And Lord, I have three more blogs to write
And three more books, no, not tonight,
I’m writing about you, and I need more time.
There’s a few poems also with a little rhyme.
And I haven’t seen Sri Lanka, Moscow, or Idaho,
Your world is beautiful, you put on a show.
Yes, I’m finished with your world. I’d like to show it.
It’ll slow me down in the ground.
But it’ll take time BECAUSE I’m a poet.

May 24,2017

Tales From One Warm Summer Night (Part 3/3)


, from Stacy Co. Cabinet Card, cropped, histog...
Image via Wikipedia

Rhonda said, “If I had lived in a wild west border town,

My man wouldn’t have been riding around gunning people down,

He would have been a farmer, a preacher, or someone grand,

He wouldn’t have carried a weapon to prove he was a man,”

I said, “Women were tough and sometimes wore guns and a cowboy hat,

More like Annie Oakley or Belle Starr or someone like that,”

“You’re right,” Rhonda agreed, “In every role women passed the test,

They stood beside their men and civilized the west,”

I was glad Bill got up and added another log to the fire,

The log burst into flames and sent sparks higher and higher,

Because something behind me took a few steps back,

Considering now if it would still be a good time to attack,

Rhonda was weary and ready to slip into her tent,

But I fervently urged her to wait, and finally she did relent,

She thought it was the stories, but I could imagine what we might find,

If she was alone and unprotected and the unknown thing decided to dine,

Bill was ready and anxious to tell his story for it was late,

And if Bill waited for tomorrow we might not learn the young man’s fate,

“This young man had earned several advances in rank,

His bravery saved many lives and they had him to thank,

Several towns later he again played a brave part,

He took down some snipers and earned a “Purple heart”,

Wounded and bleeding he stayed with his troop,

He felt protective and responsible for all in his group,

When the war was over he became a good priest,

For he had fought his inner demon and conquered the beast,”

Bill’s story gave me courage to face what was unseen,

While everyone watched I prepared for this terrible hidden fiend,

I could sense its location, I had been aware all night long,

Now I was ready to send it back to where it belonged,

I leaped into the air and made myself as large as I knew how,

Something ran towards me, that evil thing turned out to be a cow,

Now what I did so unexpectedly gave everyone a fright,

Then they laughed so hard, no one could sleep all night,

They insisted I stay up all night and share my scary tale,

And I told them about a gigantic monster that I knew so well,

At break of dawn along the path we started to depart,

But blocking our way was the cow and it lay ripped apart,

Huge footprints were evident all over the ground,

We hurried along and not one of us made a sound,

I knew then that my feelings inside had been right,

Something out there had waited for us last night,

I can’t ignore the mysteries that abound,

And I’ve noticed things others might never have found,

My stories have often proven to be true,

And friends wonder what would ensue,

If I shared a story about something really good,

Would they be willing to share tales again in the woods,

Or are they afraid that I see with an inner eye,

For my visions often prove to be true, I am a poet, aren’t I?

 

 

 

“Why, oh Why, Am I in the Who’s Who”?


Anaxagoras, presocratic philosopher.
Image via Wikipedia

I breathe, I
sleep, I eat, I find ways to exist,

The world
has too many good things to list,

I see the
rich running at a frantic pace,

How can they
enjoy the world they face,

I get questions from those in the know,

As I travel
my path going to and fro,

“Why are you
here, from where did you come?”

“What does
it matter if I follow my own drum?”

Whatever I
asked for, (You might think this is funny),

There was
nothing to be shared in this land of milk and honey,

I didn’t
have a roof over my head,

“You can’t
sleep here, hit the road instead,”

So off I
walked from town to town,

Nowhere was
I allowed to rest and stick around,

“You’re
looking good, you’re so thin,

Tell us your
secrets you keep within,

We’ve tried everything
, the latest fad,”

I said, “Don’t
eat sometimes,” and they went away sad,

When the
world told me what to do,

I didn’t
listen because I was just passing through,

When their
sails puffed up with pompous air,

Should the rudder
listen or should it care?

The same
flowers are there for all to see,

Can that
beauty be kept from you and me?

And the
wonder of the glorious sky,

Is there for
all who have an appreciative eye,

All my needs
each day are met,

Can’t you
see the humor yet?

All the tech
and all the toys, all the cutting edge,

The gossip,
the drama, the rich person’s wedge,

I was thrown
in jail for having no visible support,

My space was
limited with no place to cavort,

A committee
was formed, my case to review,

“I know,”
said one, “Let’s list him in “Who’s Who”,

He’s a
philosopher, a poet, a religious freak,

A traveler,
a health nut, his experiences we’ll tweak,

He’ll be a
hero to the downtrodden throughout the land,

But even
better he’ll be off our hands,”

A penniless
traveler will be on the marquee,

A bum that’s
footloose and fancy free,

Rubbing
shoulders with the filthy rich,

What a
hoot!, The thought makes me itch,

The wealth
of the world is the beauty I see,

And the
earth shares it with the “Who’s Who”, and me.

 

 

 

“Nothing But the Truth!”


Coffee icon
Image via Wikipedia

I raised my right hand and said,

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth,

And nothing but the truth,”

The bailiff stopped me, I had just begun,

“We don’t do that anymore, son,

There’s no need to plant that seed,

We try to assume no one lies in truth or deed,

“Then why are we here?” my voice loud and strong,

Isn’t somebody being tried because he did wrong?”

Contempt of court!” the judge roared my way,

“Lock him up, for a week and a day,

He’s prejudiced this trial, I’ll tell you why,

We wanted to find out who would lie,”

I should have been quiet, like I usually do,

I didn’t realize just what havoc would ensue,

“Judge, I have the answer, I surely do,

Anyone who moves their lips, is lying too,”

His face was distorted, he mopped his face,

“I don’t think you have a clue about this place,”

He rolled his narrowed eyes before he said,

“I wish I was a king and I’d say off with his head,”

Instead he sentenced me to a day and a year,

My lawyer explained until the message was clear,

“Justice is blind, and the law is ruthless,

We challenge each person as if he were truthless,”

“See this coffee cup?” He pointed to the one in his hand,

“I’m going to ask you questions until you understand,

Answer the questions truthfully, and do your best,

When I am finished, there will be a short test,”

He chuckled gleefully, “This is as easy as falling off a log,

I’ll lead you to the conclusion this cup is a frog,”

“But what about the truth?” I asked with some doubt,

“Forget the truth,” he snapped, “we want all the facts out!

We want evidence, arguments, burdens of proof,

When it’s all verified we’ll come out with some truth,”

I shook my head, “If a liar tells the truth, will someone believe?

Or if someone normally honest lies, will you know he deceives?

Is truth a mixture of reality and imagination, a poet’s dream?

Or is truth stranger than fiction, just as it seems?”

The lawyer scratched his head and started to grin,

“If you were a lawyer, I think you might win,

Lying for a good reason, twisting truth on a case,

If you stretch the facts a little, you’ll build a good base,

If you lead people to a conclusion with your evidence,

You’ll win most of your cases if the juries you convince.”

He patted me on the back and looked me in the eye,

“You should know the truth, when you’re released by and by.

The truth must be outdated,

At least it’s considered overrated,

However you can get by,

Whether you steal, cheat, or lie,

If you can get away with it,

Don’t let it bother you one bit,

When I was just a child,

Perhaps I was just a bit wild,

But Dad took me aside and said,

“This could probably be left unsaid,

But just so you can sleep at night,

Learn to treat folks just right,

Be honest when you give your word,

So they don’t have to guess what they heard,

And if you shake hands to seal a deal,

Remind yourself your word is real,”

Through the years I’ve stayed on track,

And I don’t see a reason for turning back,

I found it true I could sleep at night,

Just because I did things right.

(Part one)

Small Simple Things With Love


Small Simple Things With Love (One Poet’s Legacy)

Because I am a poet,

I am wiser than I think,

I see the world with clarity,

Able to mix fantasy with reality,

Discovering beauty wherever I look,

Or find ugliness and mayhem out my door,

I can’t ignore the world and waste my life,

I try to create order out of chaos,

And do small simple things with love,

Because I am aware of life and death,

And within the parameters of my time,

I am working on my legacy,

For a poet leaves more than leaves of grass,

For life’s deepest meaning is in relationships,

For all the experience I learned,

Loves once had, so foolish spent,

Were ground powder fine as the world turned,

But my world is much bigger than loves lost,

My fingerprints have left indelible marks,

Doing a thousand small simple things with love,

Comforting those left standing alone,

Who shed great tears of pain,

Encouraging those who lacked hope,

Lifting their spirits from the depths,

Urging those who needed words of action,

Doing something that would make someone’s life better,

Small simple things with love,

My footprints also linger on,

For I’ve walked carefully throughout life,

Stepping forward in truth and purpose,

Walking tall and unafraid to face the world,

Leaving footprints, I’m sure,

Yet unseen by me if I turn and look,

So I go trudging on,

My words heartfelt and true,

Knowing that my words are powerful,

Solving problems, gathering information,

Abstract thinking, concrete thinking,

Words that have the power of life and death,

Should be words of love and peace,

Kind words, affirming words, a chance to show mercy,

I am a poet and I share my essence,

My heart is open and in my dreams,

I leap barriers that block love’s capricious whim,

I do not want to keep love’s fire without,

It has to burn within,

I am vulnerable to the world,

And my dreams are of love and peace,

Each footprint, each fingerprint, that I leave,

Will be small simple things with love,

For I am a poet.

Up ↑