POETS
I shall try and tell you the
composition of
A Poet, true and gifted artist of romanticism
and love.
Admittedly notorious to a fault
Rogues storing feelings like gold in a
secret vault.
The sky is simply not the
sky.
A cloud is not something floating up high.
A rainbow not a simple band of different hues,
A state of depression simply not a case of blues!
A nearness to the fireplace
not a search for warm.
A beautiful, raging, rain not a simple storm.
A love of chocolate ice cream not a childhood dream,
A cry of loneliness not a simple scream!
A day spent with a friend,
not a wasteful time.
His warmth and laughter more precious than the
gift of rhyme.
These are all treasures locked in a special box,
A collection of sorts, like seashells, marbles,
or rocks!
A true love is never a
casual affair.
But someone who risk his heart should he dare
Giving it freely yet knowing all the while
The one he gives it to is both woman and child!
For a poet lives not only in
fantasy
But in the harsh reality
That this love could very well be
Her only link to true sanity!
A poet’s thoughts roam at
will.
One moment quiet, calm and still
The next chasing some falling star
Creating a dream distant and far!
Falling in love with a poet,
a difficult game!
Because moment to moment, feelings never stay
the same.
Like a Knight on some Holy Crusade
A promise spoken truly a promise made!
Poet’s hearts are not bound
by man exclusively
But are guided by only the Deity!
God made their spirits of a special clay
Wet it with the ability to love, come what may!
Read these verses most
carefully,
For hidden among them a special key
Giving this poet’s heart to you for safe keeping,
And a bed far more wonderful than merely sleeping!
WISHES AND STUFF
Did you ever want to kiss
Santa’s nose?
Or be a beautiful ballerina standing on her
toes?
Did you ever want to hug a big black bear?
Or slide down the banister on the stairs?
Did you ever want to catch a
Phil Sims pass?
Or run through the sprinkler on the grass?
Did you ever want to be Harrison Ford’s
co-star?
Or be in a western fight in a bar?
Did you ever want to write
Neil Diamond
a song?
Or tell the third base umpire that he was wrong?
Did you ever count the drums in a street band?
Or wish ice cream wouldn’t drip onto your hand?
I guess that I have wished
these one and all.
And even wished I were tall.
But most of all I would like to know
Where do all my wishes go?
Once Upon a Dallas Night
At Parkland, once upon a
cold December day
The spirit of Christmas arrived a most unique way.
Guided and proclaimed not by a star
But by blue and red lights that could be seen afar.
The mode of travel was not a
small donkey you see
T’was a police car, a moving vehicle activated by a key.
The young officer filled with accomplishment
and great joy,
Had just delivered a bouncing baby girl and baby boy!
Not just one mother would
bring us Christmas cheer
For labor and delivery was brimming with mothers
all very near,
To delivering babies by the score
Until delivery nursery could hold no more!
God summoned his favorite
Guardian Angel and said
“Go and see if my Christmas story is being read.”
Thus, the message he took back to his Master up above
“Yes, Lord, your babies are bringing
the world Christmas love.”
“And upon my journey
returning tonight
I beheld a most delightful sight.
An old man with eight tiny reindeer pulling a sleigh
Who shouted, “Merry Christmas” and flew away!”