Father you know well,
the things that trouble me;
the things I overcome,
just wanting to be free.
I sing to you in praise,
let my soul be glorified;
hear my fervent prayers,
know my heart has tried.
Let my voice be heard,
by angels in my keep;
give me peace of mind,
when inside,  I weep.
Keep me strong in Spirit,
and let my lamp be bright;
let me feel Your love secure,
in the forest of the night.
Father guide me on the path,
that leads me to salvation;
so that the day will come,
when I reach my kingly station.

She never wanted love,
only to hold my hand;
when the darkness fell,
she felt that it was grand.
To cuddle and to coo,
with my arm around her
shoulder ;
she just wanted to be held,
nothing greater, nothing
bolder.
I wanted more and told her,
she'd just laugh and smile;
be content,  she said,
just hold me for awhile.
I put my hand upon her knee,
she removed it - silently;
was I too much a panderer?
was it too rude of me?
She never wanted love,
just a flirt - that's all she was;
let this love remain a ******,
because, because, because.

There is contentment in my early walk,
my back is relishing the morning sun;
cares and thoughts are far away from me,
set aside, the things that must be done.

The air is fresh and clean, skies are blue,
my dog pulls ever lightly on the leash;
sometimes,  it feels as if he isn't there,
such are the worried thoughts that cease.

The hilltop offers me splendid views,
of town  and wood  and distant peaks;
it seems that I'm the only one around,
a sense of pleasure of the world I seek.

Far down below, the traffic is but mute,
the only sounds I hear are those of birds;
I love the feeling of my slow and even pace,
when I've no need for empty talk or words.

I delight in my need to find such walks,
with my canine companion by my side;
when from the world I find this place,
and for a precious hour I can safely hide.

The trouble with ambition,
is that we want too much;
when money is our master,
we've nothing but its clutch.

It's a bind that never ends,
it's the sacrifice of peace;
we accumulate forever,
not knowing when to cease.

Wanting better cars and houses,
wanting this and wanting that;
we forget what matters most,
we get rich and we get fat.

Friends fall by the wayside,
and the lovers come and go;
and we forget the meaning,
of just going with the flow.

The trouble with ambition -
lack of morals fall aside;
and our ethics fall apart,
in the wallowing of pride.

Take a cup of Dickinson,
add a bit of Poe;
a pinch of Rod McKuen,
not too much you know...
A teaspoon full of Kipling,
a tablespoon of Frost;
stir it in the ***,
so not much is lost.
A dash of Robert Service,
a dash of my friend, Shelly;
a little Tennyson,
is good for one man's belly.
For sadness, add Millay,
for humor, Ogden Nash;
for adventure, Masefield,
for D. Parker, something brash.
A recipe for poet's stew,
just simmer for an hour;
and relish the aroma,
of poetry and power.

Poets are a common breed,
they're a dime a dozen;
my uncle was a poet,
as was my second cousin.

Some are mad romantics
some are crazy, like a loon;
they write at all the odd hours,
morning, night, and noon.

The good ones leave you gasping,
at each turn of phrase;
you envy their technique,
strive to learn their ways.

The bad ones leave you laughing,
as they offer empty blithering;
you tend to scratch your head,
is there such a word as glibbering?

But, bless them all for trying,
to say what's on their minds;
it only goes to show you
it takes all different kinds!

Why do you keep hiding?
you're a fickle, funny thing;
the winds keep right on blowing,
so I know, it isn't Spring.

There's still the cold and frost,
to remind us you aren't here;
but subtle hints of promise,
remind us that you're near.

You doing it in reverse,
coming in like a lamb;
exiting like a lion,
are you weather's sham?

We need heat and blossoms,
some budding would be nice;
we had our fill of chills,
and were tired of the ice.

Show yourself for what you are,
the hope of things much better;
let me leave my coat at home,
so all I wear's a sweater.

Be more like Spring my friend,
get those gardens growing;
warm those spring-like days,
and get that sap a-flowing.