Dec. 8, 1975*

Dear lovers,
we await your arrival
We are standing in a bus terminal
Frowns frozen on our face
Hands frozen on our watch
We are waiting in an empty home
Daily we are keeping house
Nightly we are trying to keep
your half of the bed warm

We look for you too often
in empty chairs
and old conversations
We feel sorry for ourself too often
in shaving glass mirrors
And we fear old age
when we comb the cobwebs
from vintage sideburns

The room is not at rest
even the windows miss you
the curtains refuse to open!

Dear lovers, we are lonely
We have tried everything
We have spent centuries writing
poems to you
We have wasted our life time
singing songs of you

We know you will not be back
That is why we wait for you.

James H. Webb

Dec. 2, 1992*

Something slightly not completely
That's when romance is in vain
You give your all and then you fall
And then you take a chance again
No, you're not foolish - you're just human
You're not alone in this regard
Life's full of many who's hearts in small ways
Are somehow always caught off guard

Something slightly not completely
Like a blessing from above
You wait a lifetime for the one sign
That says that this time "I know it's love"
You look so foolish when she hurts you
You look so crushed by your own pride
You mumble on and ramble into
The most depressing alibis

Sometimes slightly not completely
A certain memory comes to mind
Something purely - unexpected surely
From the ravages of time
Something holy a vision solely
Floats in front of your mind's eye
A girl smiling - her eyes are shining
In the final throes of love's demise

Someone slightly not completely
Taking someone for a ride
Dances smoothly, speaking sweetly
Never seeing what's inside
Something slightly, not completely
In her manner or her style
As she sees him and she greets him
Reminds me somehow of your smile

James H. Webb

Feb. 28, 1998

Soft, alive and wandering
The sound that hit the shore
Moves her world around in it
And beats a quiet roar

Worlds of bathing light she sees
Vibrating through the haze
The pressure and the feel of it
A comfort to be praised

Everywhere the shimmering sound
That is all she knows of life
Held within her mother’s womb
So far and free from strife

Softly as a whisper will
It land upon her eyes
Her mind feeds on sensations
As endless as the sky

James H. Webb

Scattered thoughts
shattered hearts
broken dreams
that fell apart
Tears that fell
have long since dried
love only lasts until love dies
when you feel  the pain
you wonder why
then one day
the light hits your eys
and when it does
you realize
that from the ashes a new bird flies

March 93*

Lord take me somewhere away from here
away from these sights and these sounds
Cause tonight I don't wanna be found on the streets
of this Ricochet Town

Sometimes up and sometimes down
One fine shot can turn you around
One man's smile is another man's frown
In this here Ricochet Town

Every game of life's the same
someone's loss is someone's gain
Somebody's drinking while somebody drowns
in this here Ricochet Town

There's a lady in favour in a backless gown
shattering dreams and washing them down
dancing to the rhythm and the beat and the sound
of this here Ricochet Town

Once I was ahead of the game
a man with a job and a wife and a name
but all those things got taken away
by this here Ricochet Town

So fill my glass until I've found
a way to turn this foul mood around
until I'm blind to the cruel background
of this here Ricochet Town

Sept. 28 1979 Brantford*

When he gets mad
he lets off steam
through the weekend holes
of his hammock
where he allows himself
room to breathe
the week away
This mental acupuncture
completed
like a solemn meditation
once a week
he holds of the threat
of Monday ‘til Friday.

James H. Webb