MY POETRY

Most poets tend to be obscure.
A poet I don’t want to be.
I am an old, life analyst.
Rhymed reason is my poetry.

Most poets’ goal is to create
A poem that’s completely new.
I rhyme about our life with hope
My verse improves the dismal view.

My rhymes are with precision made.
The rhythms too are all precise.
The length of lines are all exact.
My thoughts are clear, as well, concise.

I crafted them in simple verse
So everyone can comprehend
The words, the phrases, and the tone,
And thus the message that I send.

It is a form that I acquired
When I was young, from hymnal books.
As I write now I’m bound to think
This is the way a poem looks.

In writing rhymes it is my goal
To motivate your thoughts of life.
They're just containers for my words
And shouldn't be a source of strife.

Creating them was not my dream.
They're only but a recent try
To find out if I was a fool
For digging down to the last why.

They are collected facts of life
To you I’m trying to impart.
I use my mind to choose the words,
I write rhymed reason from my heart.

AGE of ASININITY (rhymed reason)
NATURE’S NUTRITIONAL IDEAL (reasoned prose)
COVID-19 vie er US (rhymed reason)
ARRESTING CLIMATE CHANGE (rhymed reason)
KNOWLEDGE and ESSENTIAL FACTS (rhymed reason)
ABORTION (rhymed reason)
DEMOCRACY: the death of us (rhymed reason)
CLIMATE BREAKDOWN (rhymed reason)
LIFE: a reaction to the void (rhymed reason)
ECONOMY (rhymed reason)
THE LAST WHY: the poem (rhymed reason)
DEMOCRACY: a debacle (rhymed reason)
OUR HISTORY and THE LAST WHY (reasoned prose)
AGE of ENTERTAINMENT (rhymed reason)

 

GUS: a special uncle

IMG_sc0001_1.jpg

IMG_sc0001_1.jpg

06/01/1918-12/25/2011

To Carolyn, Linda, Wendy too,
You had the greatest Dad.
When I was young he gave to me
Some time you should have had.

A bow and arrows he made me;
A knife that I could throw.
In his workshop I found with wood
The skill that I now know.

While sanding through my finger nail
To be a man I learned.
He laughed and said, "Go bleed outside",
And to his work returned.

When finished with a lacquer pail
The thing he liked to try
By putting it upon a fire
To blow it through the sky.

Once flying with him in his plane
He did a loop the loop.
By Gus, I almost peed my pants
And lost my noonday soup.

You lived your life upon the edge
Without a lot of fuss.
And now I want to say to you,
You had a great life Gus.

HEAVEN

A lonely heaven it will be
With only sanctioned Christians there.
I've tried but can not make them see
That it's restrictive; they don't care.
We must believe what they believe
Or we can't open heaven's gate;
And with this view, on earth they leave
Another reason we can hate.
It's sinful to divide us so;
Of that there is no room for doubt.
It leaves most with no place to go;
And with gates closed, is God shut out?

AFTERLIFE

FRIENDS

There's nothing like a walk you know
To calm a troubled mind;
For worries like the air we breathe
It seems we leave behind.
It doesn't matter where we walk
Our spirit to defend.
It will be much more healing though
If we walk with a friend.

A friend can help to bear the weight
That's really got us down.
The love of friends is all we need
To melt away our frown.
A friend relieves the pain as well
That stimulates the tears.
To be held close when 'darkness' falls
Will banish all our fears.

The walk through life can be so long
For those without a friend.
Increasing isolation though
Seems now to be the trend.
We shouldn't have to look for friends.
They should be part of life.
There're very hard to find because
Our lives are full of strife.

To ease the strife is difficult.
God help us make amends,
So we create a life in which
We're all each other's friends.

River of Golden Dreams