A few poems in the works
On this page are poems in the works, or what ever. As with all poems they may change, need editing or just go away. They are of mixed kinds, so page down.
got a way
This glow I see every time I look at you? How can it be?
What is this that draws me so, this way you've got with me?
What spell is this you cast that so tangles me in its web
That the more I try to escape the more entangled I become
A touch of your hand, flash of your smile
The bells in your voice, the lingering fragrance of your perfume as you walk by
This way you have with me, I can not resist, even from afar my heart reaches out
If I could but let you take my soul and hold it with in, to gently touch your's
Perhaps if I could let you see through my eyes, for but a moment
Then you could feel in my soul, see with my eyes the things my lips may not say
When I see, when I feel your angel glow engulf me, I know you've got a way with me
No longer do I stand alone, when I'm by your side
I wish for nothing, except to know you are safe, warm, happy, and loved
One last thing, remember no matter the time or the where you may walk
It's in this way you shall always have with me
You are Loved!
Moment in time
If it were to be, that I have but a moment left in time
If you will, may I stand for this moment by your side?
I could ask for nothing more
With you I may look beyond what is seen
For there is so much more
To see beyond, into beauty, a fleeting touch
Feelings within heart and soul
What is more?
To Worry, To Wait
I worry about my other, unnamed may they be
A call in the night, they cry out, I hear
Alone they feel, I reach out my arms to find no one there
And so I wait, for one day they will come
They shell be found, as will I
Together again, but for how long?
One day in the forest there, I came upon a maiden fair
Flowers and a spot of sunshine danced in her hair
Fair Lady with hair of red, might I ask
What is one so fair as thee doing engaged in earthly tasks
For as sure as I am standing at your side
The flutter of wings I see behind, that you try to hide
Have I not seen you before walking through the meadows of my
Or perhaps it's your smile, the one always on my mind or so it seems
And so unable to turn my eyes away, I hope you understand, I
stand here heart in hand
Asking only to walk with you hand in hand
Then perhaps I will have the courage to ask you to share my life and lands
Worry not, do not let troubles cross your mind
There really is no space for it, it's simply a waste of time
But remember, where ever, when ever you may be day or night
You need find no reason to give in to fear nor fright If you feel lost, remember you never shall be alone
Now, do not worry Please, don't cry
Reach out your hand, come on now give it a try
Now squeeze, a hand holds yours you'll find If you have need,
no matter the place or time
This hand will reach across any gulf to touch yours
Simply to hold your hand, it's, the least one can do
Aloha With you, neither hello nor goodbye need I say Aloha says it so well, I send to you, greetings, hello, goodbye affection, love, that which animates our hearts
For I know as day becomes night and night turns to day When at first I came to know you, it was more a feeling, than a seeing. I knew whether near or far you have been with me always
Aloha wau ia `oe, is only to say I love you But then, of long roads walked, no other way could I ever have been And though nothing more than our souls, may or may not in this life touch
Aloha nui loa, much love, fondest regards. May God hold you and yours always in his hands
A hui kaua, until we meet again, Aloha!
A hui hou, good-bye, until we meet again, if it be a day or a thousand years By our eyes, each will know the other and be recognized
God Made Her
"What can be perfection?" God asked of himself
He pondered this thought, for all he had done was perfection in and of it's self.
Souls of men and women, numbers beyond the scores.
Had been passing forever down beyond heavens doors.
Then a thought touched him, rambled around in his mind.
He would make a special woman, just one of a kind.
First came the body, perfection beyond compare.
He topped her off with the most beautiful silky wavy hair.
Eyes the color of the sea and sky mixed, like none other you'll ever see.
Skin, creamy white and soft as the morning mist.
Full red lips, that just waiting there asking for a kiss.
Then he sat back, feeling warm and good inside.
For in this his creation, he took the utmost pride.
But something was wrong, there seemed with her to be something gone.
So he thought and pondered, then he knew, it didn't take long.
He had left them out, a simple oversight, she had no feelings inside.
So he took his good feeling and on a breath of warm air, gave them to her with just a touch of pride.
He knew each person she passed would feel her warmth and love when they looked in her eyes.
To men she would seem as a little girl innocent, a sophisticated lady, all their dreams realized.
Women would see her as the lost friend, found with in whom to confide their deepest secrets and dreams.
Now I sit and ponder Gods creative dream, she is here with me now, or so it seems.
Step Through Time
What can it be that has reached out and touched me?
A song? A rhyme or just the rhythm?
Awake am I, but here I do not see.
Transported am I through memories door.
To a place, I though I could return no more.
A clearing red leaf oak and maples do surround.
My own heart beat, her breathing the only sounds.
Many days gone have I been
Not knowing if I would return, nor when.
Now I stand next to the wood, holding her close.
Too long sense I have held her, this Lady that means the most.
Heavy winter clothes, the bite of sea mist touched winter air.
These mean nothing, for each there is only their other there.
I have never felt so right, nothing has ever felt so good.
This place I belong, why do I go? I would stay if but I could.
So now I whisper her name, the dream is gone, fast as it came.
I'm back to my world where I belong.
But still it seems, I feel her in my arms, her body pressed against mine just the same.
Is it a dream, this place from where I have just come?
A memory perhaps?
Or perhaps, I know not how, but a step through time I've done.
The Music Box
Music is but someone's dream, which brings dreams to those who hear.
The soft chiming of an old clock, or the songs from a music box, some hold quite dear.
It was old the first time she saw it, a treasure box filled with dreams.
An old lever wound music box, each song a new adventure or so it seemed.
To be trusted with a special treasure so dear, was a great thing indeed.
An old magic box filled with dreams, just what little girls need.
The old box would sit on the table, so she could reach and see.
Then to pull the lever and watch the rolls, play their tune's and dream.
A tune card in the lid of the box, showed a picture of Gentlemen and Ladies dressed for a Ball.
Someday a Lady she dreamed I'll be, I'll dance, dress in a fine grown, white wig and all.
Inside the box could be found more than music and dreams it seems.
You see, it was filled to over flowing with a mothers love, all mixed in with the dreams.
But mothers know, that mother can't always stay
Little girls grow up, dreams become life and wishes real things someday.
So mothers give love and memories on which to hold.
For perhaps someday there'll be another little one
To whom a story of the box full of dreams may be told
So may there always be music boxes, mothers love and little girls that dream.
For then we shall never run out of love nor dreamers to dream.
Beautiful, this world in which I've been.
The world and friends
So great, I think I'll come again.
But my path now is short, it was decided before I came this way.
And what a great way it's been
But I only had so many years and days to stay.
You were there before we came, we sat and talked at length.
Who we would be
Then when we would meet, where we would go and what of each we would think.
I've enjoyed this, my time and being here.
Life with it's ups and downs is so beautiful, you see.
But most of all my greatest joy was and is having you near.
Where I travel now, not an ending but a start anew, of this I have no fear.
Smile now, I'll not go far
I'll stay close tell you come, it's only an eye blink away it's all quite clear.
For in God's plan we're not meant long to stay.
We've things to learn
Things that can only be learned with others this way.
One thing I know quite sure, there are those to whom I belong.
So no matter the here or there, the who or when they will seek me out.
I can be patient, I'll sit and wait, for shortly they'll come along.
Upon the rocky point she stands, always facing out to sea.
Her long scarlet hair blowing free, tethered only by the winds.
Elegance and grace beheld, looking, waiting always watching.
But for what, or could it be for whom?
Wearing a dress long of sleeve the hem caressing the rock on which she stands.
A dress the color of blue, none deeper in sea or sky, to be found.
A tall lace collar frames a face of softest white and eyes of ever changing blue.
Still as a stature she is, as if formed of the rock on which she strands.
Waiting ever watching, then as if she senses I'm there.
She turns too catch me watching, as she stands her lonely post.
Smoothly, swiftly with the grace of a dancer she comes to my side.
Taking my hand she smiles and says " I have waited long for your return."
And now once more you have come to me, for you are the reason I watch.
But Malady, why do you watch for me? How did you know I would come?
How is it you can say I have been here before?
True, I have seen none more graceful nor fair to look upon than you.
With the touch of your hand, I can hear angels sing.
But Malady I can not stay, for you are only in my dream.
The meadow is green with the coming of spring
The small cabin sits in it's quiet solitude, the logs most fallen now
But still inside on the wall, stories that tell of lives come and gone
Cedar shingles each with a story written there on, writing that's most faded now.
Two brothers from a time before our own, used the wall as we would use the phone.
Horse traders, providers of transportation in their day
Jake and John their names on the wall
Stories they told were not stories at all, you might call it their business log, that wall.
Jake, picked up 150 head of remounts in Reno, left extra 50 in the meadow
been here two weeks now, though may be you would show up, going to Pasco be back soon.
John, June 1863
John, saw you were here last month, lost 10 head outside of Burns, taking 20 of the ones you left
headed for Sacramento, taking 30 saddle, 20 draft 2 mules, saddle and draft spoken for.
Jake July 1863
The stories go on to tell of their life, never a mention of family or wife.
One shingle I'm sure chilled Jake to the bone, it said he would have to spend the winter alone
Not written by his brother John but a passing trader friend.
Hello Jake, talked to your brother John, he was bringing a few head down from Idaho, horse fell
broke Johns leg, he will lay up the winter in John Day, see you when the snow melts. This written hurts my thinker. See you when you get to Reno, Bill Bozeman
The stories make me contemplate about the lives of these men that helped settle our land.
A horse falls one man can't come home, the other spends the winter alone.
So I ask are our lives better today with our fast cars and cell phones?
Or were they better off then when they could feel, smell and touch the land
Know where they're going and where they've been
Two halves touch in a circle of gold to make a whole.
They now shine forth like a jewel, with the light of one soul.
Take now my hand for with in it you find my heart.
It's yours to have and hold through time, be we near or far apart.
Angels Wings Wrapped Around
I stand, an Angels wings wrapped around, tears of living fill my eyes.
More families than can be counted will remember this place, when they cry.
Pray I, that a flower will grow, for each warrior today that had to fall.
The clash of sword, the scream of man, remember all, remember all.
Many souls walked away here this day, with only a silent sound.
I alone stand on the hill, an Angels wings wrapped around.
A light opens in the sky, a new star for each warrior who fell this day.
The fallen young men never too grow old, they're moving on their way.
Stop! Listen! A rustling sound, as if the wings of a thousand birds.
In the light Angels, warriors in hand, the rustle of wings the only sound heard.
I stand silently watching remember the sound, remember the sound.
I stand not alone on the hill, for I too have an Angels wings wrapped around
Each soul cradled by an Angel, wings wrapped around. That Angel now leads them on their way.
Remember all, remember all, for not one soul upon this earth will long stay.
A man walks he knows not where from the day he is born on.
A woman shall be his scorn, whether she be by his side short or long.
For I am old, for I am young, for I am alone and miss understood said he.
For I want a home, protection security and a loving man say she.
So reach out they both for something new an adventure, a life they think.
They find adventure, new feelings as the blood runs hot, does not a new life make.
Soon the blood runs cold and they look, they ask who are you?
They stand back and stare, you are not the wonderful person I knew.
He thinks, should I make a new home, she thinks, should I stay or leave this home.
They both know it takes time, time, time or they may forever roam.
Just a moment of his time for her, a minute of hers for him, listen just listen.
So they stay, life moves on and not all things glisten.
Times are hard, he looks around, another, one that loves that believes in me.
She thinks, could another be better, no longer am I the one he sees.
Yet if they go trust is gone, the next the same who can trust them now.
When the new is gone again? It seems no one trusts them somehow.
So they reach out and hold each others hand, hoping to find, when they were new.
They find instead, not the feelings of new but a family and a love that time grew.
The clouds of memory blow across my mind.
Moving me into, through or within another time.
Between the clouds, blue of the sky comes reflecting through.
Reminding me of eyes once known, eyes so true.
Eyes! that have reflected times of greatest joy and deepest sorrow.
Laughing, dancing eyes that hold a dream and a promise for a new tomorrow
In the mountains a memorial stands to those living and dead.
To the south the mighty mountain Shasta, stands guard over memories at her feet.
Memories of men that went when their country called.
Many gave their all, those that went will never forget what they saw.
Also remembered, with a warrior coming home, the loved ones who waited at home alone.
They, the ones never knowing and jumping with each ring of the phone.
The statues there are bigger than life and made of steel.
Not flesh and blood like the warriors remembered here, yet the memories they stir are real.
The missing those that didn't return, they're remembered here.
Two poles sit, MIA bracelets hung all around.
Brown, Jones the names on the bracelets, like the men they remember none are the same.
Let us not forget the why, these men are not with us and the price they had to pay.
Stick steel helicopters sit on a stone wall, the sound helicopters made remembered by all.
The sound meant life to those on the ground, a way home standing up or laying down.
On the stone etched a list of names, it seems from every war they came.
WWII, Korea, Viet Nam what's in a name.
To those who have gone and those they left behind the pain is the same.
As I sit and listen to the silent sounds, I can feel the ghosts of memories as they hover near.
Shasta grabs and holds the memories of all that stop, to add to the memories already here.
Combat for me is now many years in the past.
Within memories it only happened yesterday, men pass on, it's the memories that last.
The black and white photograph hangs there yellow with age.
Surrounded by an old oak frame, the story of a life or is it just one page?
The face that looks out, captured young as it shell remain.
Eyes that no matter the age would be the same.
The lady in the picture long hair piled high on her head.
Color unknown, could have been light brown, blonde or red.
Her dress dark, high collar trimmed in white lace.
Just high enough to frame the bottom of a pretty face.
Her eyes have watched me from the day we first met.
If I could have known her then, she would have been heaven sent.
But she lived and died in a time much before mine.
So I shell only know her as she hangs on my wall.
Until somehow, someway I can reach out to her across time.
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