To Pass the Time

To pass the time

as my clothing dry,

I stare out the window

watching people below pass by.

Watching people is fun.

That white car drove

around the parking lot

for half an hour

searching for that pot of gold.

But no rain was around.

A couple across the way,

playing tennis.

She and I have something in common,

out of 12 hits he made to her

across the net; she only hit 3.

We suck!

When someone see’s me

staring out the window

they break their necks

in order to see who I am.

All those things shrinks try to teach

about human nature,

those things we do when we think

no one is watching.

At least we think this.

The man digging.

The proper lady doing the same.

A happy couple getting into the thick of it.

Such a sight to see.

Whatever!

Buzz!

Oh, my clothes are dry.

Someone else can use-

my window to wait,

and watch human nature walk by.

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Always

Always remember who you are.

Always remember where you came from.

Always remember the struggle to get you where you’re at in life.

Always remember what is important in your life.

Always remember what you want to accomplish in your life.

Always remember where you want to be in life.

Always remember things could get worse.

Always remember things will get worse.

Always remember those who love you.

Always remember to forgive those you hurt.

Always remember to overlook those who hate you.

Always remember your friends.

Always remember things will get better.

Always remember God loves you.

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Dedicated to a Friend

You used to be a real good friend

until the fall began.

When the eighth came,

the friendship came to an end.

We were good pals in grade school.

I thought I knew you well.

I didn’t know you at all.

You said you were a friend.,

that would be forever true.

But when the eighth grade came, the friend I once –

knew was true no more.

I might not be glamorous or adventurous

or tell wild and crazy stories,

I tried to be a friend,

some friend you were when the eighth grade came.

You used to be a real good friend until

the fall began.

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

A Picture

I did extend into the world a gesture,

a picture into my world.

An attempt to meet what the world would send me.

For nothing was I looking.

For nothing was I hoping.

You could sat it was an attempt to spice up-

an otherwise dull existence.

People did I meet.

People did I greet.

All wanting more than what I was looking for.

A friend did I seek.

A friend to share with.

A friend I got.

An exquisite friend who wanted-

what I wanted “a friend”.

On and on we talked.

Into my life, he did walk.

On and on we still talk.

A wonderful friend I did get.

Friends at first, we did make.

Now in love we partake.

The love of my life,

I met like this.

Making a dull existence bliss.

Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.

Death

Have you ever wondered what death will be like? I think most of us do. When I was in high school, we had to read William Cullen Bryant. The end of this poem forever changed the way I few death.

“So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.”

Thanatopsis

William Cullen Bryant – 1794-1878

As I became a Christian, my few of death changed even more. Not that I’m in a hurry to die; my homes in heaven.

I’m not delusional enough to think death will be painless or even fun.

I have always felt like a stranger in a strange land. What a feeling it will be to go home.

Prospective

Have you ever wondered what others think about you?

Today, I’m wondering this. If you look at me, my right ear is crimson. Frequently, I rub my ear and scalp.

My work environment is very subdued. There’s very little noise or wild gesturing. I know my behavior is suspicious.

Does she have head/body lice, ear mitts, bed bugs? Can I catch it?!

I can feel the anxiety rising around me.

If anyone dared ask, I’d explain. I got stung by yellow jackets; in the head and on the ear. The wounds take turns; itching and burning. Ouch!

Did they even notice?

What the Stank?

Sleep is a welcomed friend.

I need it so.

My mood. My body. My spirit it mends.

Images flood my mind. I toss to and fro.

I wake with my eyes pouring water.

My nose is on fire.

My throat is tight. It feels like hot solder.

I am drowning in the mire.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s stuck.

Don’t panic. Dreaming.

My chest is tight. Was I hit by a truck?

Chico doesn’t understand the meaning.

Outside. Must go outside.

Cool night air is fresh, amazing.

What’s going on? The facts I must apply.

Outside smells fine. Inside is blazing.

I open windows. Set up fans.

Chico seems unaffected.

A foul creature has opened it’s glans.

This situation must be corrected.

With great caution, I open the basement door.

Be gone foul creature.

Torment me no more.

You have been tonight’s main feature.

Armed with air fresheners and scented candles,

I combat your stank.

Tomorrow, I will no doubt be a scandal.

The stank has filled my ever waking moment.

My sinuses. My clothes. My hair smell like you.

Stink! Stank! Stunk!

Or at least in my mind, I perceive they do.

Be gone you! You smelly skunk!

I know God created you for a reason.

Getting trapped under my house, you did not leave me beaten.

The End

Ships

All of our lives, we hear sayings. Some we understand. Other soar over our heads. Their meanings lost in the clouds. I have heard the phrase “two ships passing in the night” many times during my life. I’m sure I will hear it many more. This is the first time in my life I can honestly say that I’ve made this connection within my own mind.

I consider myself a cuddy cabin boat. There are all sorts of possibilities with me. About 6 months ago, I was moved to different waters. Greener pastures if you will. Bright blue waters, sunny skies. Wide open spaces. There are more boats here than the waters I left.

A bright cheery bowrider was teaching me these new waters. Once the ice broke by spring rolling in; we started wondering around the bay. Seeing what we could see.

On many occasions a sleek gray trawler would pass our way. It was obvious that the trawler had been out to sea. More nautical miles under his belt than me.

I gave him little thought. He was very friendly. Nice trawler. Bow (that’s what I call her) started putting this idea in my on board computer that Gray had a thing for me. “Nah, not me.” We would banter back and forth as we bobbed in the water, “it’s you.”

I would blush, “No it’s you.”

So, I started paying attention. Maybe Bow was right. Maybe Gray did. I never could work up enough steam to ask him to go deep sea fishing. Bow kept encouraging me but I just couldn’t.

Then one day this gorgeous runabout showed up. I knew her from my old waters. She thought Gray was a super catch. How could I compete with her aerodynamic design and well kept paint job? Her lines were sleek and she seemed to glide across the water.

I did what I thought was the right thing for me. Gray was hers. There was no way I could maneuver through the water like she could. The sun didn’t reflect from me like it did her. Glory go with her. Though on one occasion I did give Gray a fishing net. It was too big for me. Might as well give it to someone that can use it.

Now we are two ships that pass in the night. Things have changed. We speak on occasion.

Was it runabout that changed things? Was it the heat of summer? Was this God telling me Gray is not the trawler for me? I may never know.

Maybe Bow was right, I should have shuck off my barnacles and asked him to go fishing. Maybe Bow was wrong and it really was her?