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Bard Dec 2010
The march of time has set our pace.
We scurry along in life's mad race.

Not time to enjoy life's pleasures.
Rushing past all of God's treasures.

The warm puppy pushed aside.
Children ignored in life's wild ride.

It's all the job, it's all our career.
Success so distant, it's mirage appears near.

When finally we stop and take a break.
Our life is gone for our career's sake.

A corner office or a gold watch does not replace,
Your child gazing at you with love in their face.

That boss you have struggled to please
Will not nurse you through age and disease.

This coming year stop, think and decide
What really matters, family or the wild ride?
Bard Dec 2010
Years roll past as the endless seas,
One after the other and never cease.

When beginning, the end is not in sight.
Young never see the limit of the light.

Then comes the day, your immortality flies.
You realize that everyone at last, dies.

So then what have you at the final day?
Of your life what will they say?

Will you leave a legend, a glorious song?
Or will they say you lingered far too long?

As for me, I truly care not to bother.
I please my God, my wife, myself, but no other.

Those who seek the approval of all.
Hobble their lives with chain and ball.

Too many just stand in the crowd.
Their criticism of others far too loud.

Try as you might, they can not be pleased.
With their own selves they are ill at ease.

To relieve their own pain.
They make little of your gain.

It is a trap they lay.
For their failure you pay.

Leave them to their petty game.
Let them not sully your name.

It matters not what they will say.
They will not be present on your judgment day.
Bard Jul 2010
A gull in profile on a rock
Tang of salt laden air
Crash of waves down below
On my lips a silent prayer

Oh that I could walk into the sea
Leave behind the beach of sand
Slip into her warm embrace
Let her carry me in her hand

Carry me ever so far away
Leave me on a deserted shore
There to find what I seek
Then, only then, to roam no more.
Bard Jul 2010
Your fingers stroke the clouds
I gaze aloft at your boughs.
Your trunk a mast as upon a ship
I so small, insignifiacnt slip.

Your interwoven tresses, what a sight!
Puts where I stand dark as night
Dark green moss your feet are shod
By them, breezes cause ferns to nod

To Heaven you reach e'er so slow
Reaching before I arrived below.
Someday in eternity I will look down
See below your still questing crown

Have you answers to that we seek?
What could you tell if you could speak?
About your base, what lives have passed?
As you stood serene, Heaven in your grasp.
Bard Dec 2009
Up past the clouds
Up beyond the sky
I lift my arms
My hands on high.

My fingers jump
My fingers prance
Up in Heaven
My fingers dance

Lustily, merrily,
They roll down the strings
Strumming and plucking
Each one of them sings

Sings with voices
Angelic and sweet
Trills and chords
My joy is complete.

— The End —