A LAMB WITH GOLDEN FLEECE


A LAMB WITH GOLDEN FLEECE

And lo, I saw a lamb with golden fleece,
Asking for reason, pleading for peace.
I asked my friends, “What does this mean?”
No one could describe what they’d never seen.
The lamb’s eyes were bleeding, swollen and raw,
There must be danger in something she saw.
From the mountains came a man from the East,
With a fierce countenance, and the mark from the beast.
The man asked, “What would it take for a war to start?”
He saluted and said, “I’m ready to blow this world apart!”
I thought about that as I traveled towards the sun,
He was right. The world’s troubles have just begun.
It only takes one crazed leader to light the fuse.
He could be already well-known and all over the news.
The lamb was quiet and then she said,
“Why do you ignore me? Do you wish to be dead?
Three large countries are ready to expand,
Where will they get their new-found land?
Will they destroy the people who live there now?
Will you defend the weak and helpless somehow?
The rules of war say be cautious, you can’t use gas,
Or other weapons of destruction, the threats will pass.
But I know your hearts,” the lamb said sadly.
“Nuclear bombs will be used, and the war will end badly.”
I could see in her eyes how the war would unfold,
Countless men lying on the ground, lifeless and cold.
And the deaths will include mothers, daughters and sons,
No one will be safe until the carnage is done.
There is one final chance for the world to have peace.”
She walked into the sunset in a blaze of golden fleece.
But I heard her words of wisdom coming from high above,
I listened then and thought she said, “It’s all about love.
We must speak up now. Every person must have a voice.
It’s now or never. We have no other choice!”

I’m only a poet trying to make sense of what I see.
I’m not ready for Armageddon and I hope you agree,
We can learn to share the world; it’s not too small for me.
We can’t ignore it much longer unless it’s meant to be.
May 15, 2017

TOO OLD I’m too old for sex…according to my kids. My life is over, I’m on the skids. I’m too old to drive…according to impatient youth If I object to their speeds, I’m rude and uncouth. What am I too old for? I’m too old for hot foods, cold foods, and maybe all foods. My teeth are gone, but my taste buds are good. I’m too old for women, But can’t I still look? My eyes still work. Does that make me a jerk? I can admire what young men ignore, So what am I too old for? I shouldn’t be hiking, riding any kind of cycle. Exercise might kill me or might make me smile. Might give me reasons to walk a mile. Too old to live, not ready to die, My time is coming and you don’t need to cry. I’m not as young, as smart, as tall, or as slim. My medical conditions are real, not based on whim. I’m not a decoration, a person without a mind, I’m still me, one of a kind. Am I too old to enjoy this earth? Am I without value, without any worth? I am older than yesterday, younger than tomorrow. I’ve faced challenges, deep joys, and sorrow. I’m not too old to love or care, My love doesn’t rely on muscles or hair. My knowledge is not based on flimsy lies. Consider me old but very wise. Am I too old for one more day? Too old to kneel, thank God, and pray? I’m not too old to dream or regret, Or to appreciate the moments I get. The world is traveling at a faster pace, But i’m not too old to make it a better place. Tell me your secrets, whether bad or worse, And I’ll still dance with you across the universe. My worth does not rely on my outer shell, I think it’s love, that has served me well. Am I too old to hold you tight? If your heart is empty, I’ll be there tonight. We will discuss all things like this, Then sleep soundly after a kiss. Dan Roberson


I WON!


Often I have bought tickets to win a big prize,

Cash or a trip to a faraway place.

I never won even in my dreams,

Just one of the crowd waiting with expectant face.

What were the odds of winning the pot,

Raking in millions, and sharing all I got?

I was lying to myself,

Justifying the easy way to pay bills,

When it was for the thrill.

So how did I win?

Was it in the shark tank I learned to swim?

Contrary to what you might believe,

I quit trying to deceive.

I spent time being a friend,

Helped others begin again,

Loved openly with all my heart,

And became the man I should have been

Right from the start.

I won self-respect, honor, and trust,

And that, my friends, is something

That can’t be stolen, tarnished, or rust.

As you can see, I’m proud of me.

But I have also widened my view.

You remained my friend and I’m proud of you.

by Dan Roberson     Oct. 12, 2016

 

Truth and I


walking together

walking together (Photo credit: Leonard John Matthews)

 

Truth and I

 

 

 

“Truth,” said I, “let’s spend the day,

 

Walking together wherever we may.”

 

 

 

“Are you sure,” she asked, “You want to be with me?

 

For I go places you’ll never be.”

 

 

 

“Truth, you’re beautiful,” I vehemently claimed.

 

“Throughout the day you’re always the same.”

 

 

 

I thought I could sway her with flattery and flowers,

 

But she remained unchanged despite my powers.

 

 

 

She said, “You don’t understand my heart or my mind.

 

I’m out in the open but hard to find.”

 

 

 

She said, “I have many faces and I’m rarely the same.

 

I can be rampaging or be quiet and tame.”

 

 

I believed in one Truth so I laughed out loud.

 

I ignored the levels of Truth because I was proud,

 

 

 

Truth stood before me stark naked and plain,

 

If I embraced her, would she be as cleansing as rain?

 

 

 

“I love you, Truth, I won’t be denied,”

 

But I exaggerated a lot, and, of course, I lied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

Tales From One Warm Summer Night (Part 1)


Study for The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania by...

Image via Wikipedia

My heart beat faster one warm summer night,

When four friends and I exchanged tales around a fire,

Connie leaned forward in her chair,

“There are fairies dancing there,

Around the old oak tree,

A place that’s magical for them and me,”

Her brown smoldering eyes held me still,

I searched their depths until I had my fill,

“Fairies cast spells on strangers passing through,

Using their magic to make dreams come true,”

Connie, her raven black hair shining in the moonlight,

Said, “I’ll tell you more, later in the night,”

Jim cleared his throat, glanced at the others, then at me,

“I’ll tell you a story about terror at sea,

Of pirates who changed from their plundering ways,

Experienced old salts brave and crusty as they be,

Who saved their own lives by tossing treasures into the sea,”

He paused for a moment to catch his breath,

“Then I’ll close with a ship named ‘DEATH’,”

Rhonda stood up and with a shy little grin,

“I want to tell you about heroic women and their wild, wild men,

How they conquered the West with love, tears, and sweat,

Overcame their fears and stood up to threats,”

Bill couldn’t resist telling about wars with blood and gore,

“Freedom is always worth fighting for,”

He hesitated as if he wanted his words to sink in,

“There’s a change as boys become men,

Cannons boom constantly and tanks shake their world around,

Every man becomes braver as he crosses contested ground,”

I listened and waited to share a truth that was stark,

I wanted to tell them about danger that lurked in the dark,

My story had been forgotten and I lost my chance to speak,

For growls were getting closer and my stomach was getting weak,

I gasped and stuttered but nothing they could understand,

They continued with their stories as I wrung my hands,

Connie looked at me apprehensively, as if I was mad,

“I see you’re preparing your story, but your acting is bad,”

There were murmurs of agreement as she continued her tale,

“The fairies were delighted to find one day,

A knight tired from his journey, under the oak he lay,

On his way to the castle he had fallen asleep,

His mission was to rescue a princess from the keep,

The fairies laughed, they danced, they cast a spell,

They wanted their magic to serve him well,

For he would soon face the witch and the evil queen,

Brave knights who’d gone before were never again seen,

The fairies wove a multi-colored cloak from spider webs and dew,

If he wore it at the castle it would hide him from view,

A second spell they bestowed before he awoke,

The next two he kissed would go up in smoke,”

Her story was entertaining and the fire was going out,

But Jim looked sullen and was beginning to pout,

“Go ahead, Jim,” I said, “I’ll throw more wood on the fire,

Continue your story about the treasures pirates aquire,”

Uneasily I studied the woods for the terror it contained,

While my friends shared the fire and with stories entertained,

“After a brief skirmish with one of the king’s battleships,

The pirates disappeared into the fog and gave them the slip,

They plundered the coast, found treasures to steal,

Escaped angry husbands, had rum and good meals,

The tars watched a hundred sunsets as they traveled by boat,

Then the pirates crossed the Atlantic to lands remote,

Found Spanish ships loaded with gold from the new world received,

The pirates fired their cannons and the gold relieved,

And off they sailed thinking they were safe from harm,

But a hurricane was brewing and no one sounded the alarm,”

While he gathered his breath to go on with his tale,

Rhonda couldn’t wait one minute longer,

“The men in my story were strong, but the women were stronger,

From Boston and New York the men went west,

Looking for adventure, for gold, or land at its best,

Towns sprang up overnight with guns making the law,

It was easy to be dead or quick on the draw,

The last place of civilization was named Kansas City,

Men venturing west beyond that were given no pity,

Uncivilized, untamed, life always in the rough,

If a woman dared go west she had to be tough,

She plowed by day, ran her household by candlelight,

Bore her babies at home, and fought for her rights,

In the fields or on the porch she carried a gun,

But in the bedroom at night most battles were won,

Those feisty women changed each odious law,

Against those in petticoats stubborn men would withdraw,”

“A nice history lesson, Rhonda,” Bill said, “Now it’s my turn,

There was a young man who had much about war to learn,

Both sides agreed about Christmas Day, so soldiers ceased fire,

No guns were deadly as they crossed over barbed wire,

Troops celebrated together but before the sun went down,

Soldiers took their positions and prepared for another round,

Deadly combat began early the next day,

Friends became enemies, no mercy did they display,

This young man, eighteen at most, charged a machine gun nest,

Dodged bullets as he ran, but was more scared than the rest,

He was tired of seeing his friends shot down,

So he dashed across and conquered the ground,

He didn’t want to be a hero but what else could he do,

The war was not over and his job was not through,”

Stories of fairies, heroic women, war and the sea,

Were all suspended while my friends waited for me,

All the people in these stories marched upon imagination’s stage,

Yet a few feet away, more than enough to fill a page,

There was a story ready to unfold,

About a creature hungry and bold,

Perhaps I was the only one who could see,

Those long fangs and those eyes glaring at me,

I had listened and waited and I wanted to share,

But I was transfixed by that malevolent stare,

I wanted to ask if this was but a dream,

Because if it was real, I needed to scream,

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.