Cherokee woman , distant smile,
Cherokee woman it's been awhile,
let the warm winds carry your voice to me,
hear the  rustle of your hand made beads,
smell the hint of jasmine in your hair,
soft soled foot steps, I can feel you there.
Cherokee woman, distant smile,
Cherokee woman it's been awhile.
Catfish sunning in the morning light,
splash of ducklings, signs of new life.
Feel the need to close the miles,
move a little closer to that Cherokee smile.
Snow is melting  and the rivers run,
days are longer with warming sun.
Cherokee woman, shake your beads for me,
let the wind carry your scent of jasmine.
Distant smile come closer then a dream.
Cherokee woman no longer needs to wait for me.

Yes Spring has come to the land,
Mother Nature has shed her coat,
time to get off the couch and do what matters most. Live and have fun!
So I am out catching up on the chores and second duty, granddaughter watch,
prune here, rake there, now where has that little tike gone?
Perhapes if I give these little hands something to occupy,
why the best thing is a little water, yes that will bring a smile.
So here is the battle ground as  the scene unfolds.
She has a little pail, I have the garden hose.
Her duty, quite simple,place some water on the plants,
end result however, water on PawPaw's pants!
So only to even the score, mind you no harm intended,
was to give the little tike a squirt and the battle would have ended.
Oh no, not today! This little tink has got some guts!
Why with every squirt I give that girl, I get a pail of slosh!
So of course, being the elder here and quite mature I say,
I give that girl her monies worth and let out a real good spray!
Soon the chores are all forgotten and the plants need water no more,
end of the day I can say she may have even tied the score!
Wow how much water do these pampers hold?!

When men were men, Mountain men, they would shout out a small greeting to those approaching, some were very discriptive...here is mine:

Born in a blizzard, back in a grizzly's cave,
drank wolf milk, use a knife to shave.
Can out spit, out run, out shoot any known
man alive.
Can fight two or more men just to keep it fair,
now get down from your horse and tell me
what the hell your doing here!

Man I tell you I was born in the wrong century.
Open land, cooking outside, trade my furs for a good woman.
Shoot guns, drink whiskey...hell it don't get any better then that.
Course I would change a few things, like..I would need my toilet paper,
that corn husk thing , well I'm not for all that.
I'd have to figure out how to put a heater and windshield on that horse of mine too.
I'd **** sure would get me a better rifle then that Hawkins( mind you it was the rifle of its time) just to even up the score when them city slickers start trying to sneak away my whiskey.
Ah, yes just rambling. Anyways back to the real world.

Children ask the most funny things
and you better give the answer a think,
you're sure to hear it more then twice.
Said yes there were plenty of times
when being scared was on the line,
I can recall a time or two.
There was the time ,way back before you,
I was scared of my old, dark room
but I had to learn to sleep there by myself.
The time your Aunt Jo fell out of that tree,
I was so scared I got down on my knees,
asked the Good Lord to help her heal.
The time I was sent to do somethings
the good folks here did'nt know where I went,
till they all read about it and saw it on the news.
Course I was scared when I Asked your MawMaw
for her hand,
did'nt know if she would take a man
like your PawPaw was back then.
Remember how my hands all shook,
the day they brought your Mama in the room,
so tiny and full of lifes demands.
Yes, Little Tink, I've been scared a time or two.
I was beyond scared when you came along,
it had been all so long,
since we had a little tike like you in the house.
So I guess when I talk to to you of being scared,
well, PawPaw knows what he's talking about.

There is a pillow, there on the bed.
The pillow where she used to lay her head.
The pillow we slept, dreamed  and played upon.
The pillow her breakfast in bed was placed on.
That same pillow she held tight.
The one she threw after the fight.
The one I  held after she was gone.
The one I talked to wondering what went wrong.
There is a pillow , there on my bed.
The final witness of the wrong words said.

I have not done what he has done,
I know where he has been.
He has not been where I have gone,
yet knows the things I did.
I am my Fathers Son.
He tried to shield me from this path,
I wanted to follow his.
He never told anyone ,
I wanted to hear all of it.
I am my Fathers Son.
Together we now see each other,
the shroud has been lowered down.
The things that needed doing then,
still need doing now.
I grear up as he did then,
I am my Fathers Son.

On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.

Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring  and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......

So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.

Well there is 'shine' coming down from the Carolines,
Brothers I haven't seen in quite some time.
Each year we gather here , rain or shine,
it's the gathering, the Meeting time.
We all will stare into the flames,
pass that jug, time and again.
Talk , spit , joke and  smoke,
just alot of catching up.
Then the business will be discussed at hand.
What needs to be doing and help where we can.
Dues will be paid and treasure report.
Pass the jug for another snort.
Food will be prepared on that old trusty grill.
Fire will be a blazing to bust down the chill.
Know old Shu is going to bring that guitar out.
Sitting with my Brothers is what it's all about.
Come morning we will all fire up our sleds,
remembering the plans and what had been said.
By noon all that will be left of what happened at all,
is the burning embers and empty jars.

Me and couple of my buddies tailgate of our trucks,
sipping moonshine from coffee cups.
Swatting at mosquitos and telling lies,
getting further from the truth with every sip of the Shine.
Dont be a stranger when you pull up,
yonder is the jug and some extra cups.
Now some  folk cannot handle the sip then  the bite,
leaves more for others, quite all right.
Here comes another stretch of the truth,
now keep on passing the jug once you're through.

Bloodshot eyes and a case of laughter,
a Waffle House fix is what we are after.
Find a booth and all pile in,
waitress comes up and the mayhem begins.
Oh but she is a pro,
done this a time or two,
pretty soon here comes our food.
Scraping of the forks and clatter of the plates,
we look like it's been weeks since we ate.
We got scattered, chunked, covered and diced,
heartburn on a plate and don't even think twice.
Well no more thumping head and eyes cleared up a bit,
all we needed was a Waffle House fix!

It's two days till payday and  my shelves are almost bare.
Got one or two cups of noodle and a can of beans hiding somewhere.
Not to sure about these hot dogs, seem a little too brown,
it's two days till pay day and this stomach  is starting to growl.
Two days till pay day and one roll of toilet paper left.
Squeezed the last bit of toothpaste, guess they'll just have to take my bad breath.
Reboiled the coffee, well its' still still half way black,
two days till pay day, back tire going flat!
Just saw the mail man, my mailbox is filled,
lots of "you owe us money", my fan mail bills.
Two days till pay day, cable TV just went off,
would call with the problem but it cost money to talk.
Well look out  cup of noodles, I get hungry when I am bored.
Good thing I don't have much to munch on, bright side to being poor!

Let's see here, you are as  sweet as a vidalia onion,
as pretty as that bass down in Waldrop Creek,( been meaning to catch
him for awhile, I bet he's at least eight to nine pounds or..)
sorry, where was I ? Yes you are so pretty.
You are smooth as Mr Sims backyard whiskey and I might
add just as hard to control.
Your hair smells like a thousand tea ivory , so silky to hold.
You make me get all funny ******* inside, kind of
like that time they all dared me to jump from Hickory Knoll
into the water, what was I thinking? Jumped anyways.
Aint saying I can tell you just like that Shakepearing fellow
just how I feel,
but I sure would have you if you will have me!

Yep, there are folks who would roll an eye or two,
guess they know I've missed  my time in the pews.
Know for sure  my dollar aint in the Deacons hat,
course  they don't know that Me and Him, well we go way back.
See I m not going to wait for that special day,
I can drop to my knees before Sunday.
Let me tell you a thing or two,
some times where I pray, well they aint got any pews.
Yes my dollar  aint sitting in  a passed around plate,
cause it's in the helmet to make sure them folks ate.
Now I don't get all bent about the things upon high,
but I just wanted to clear things up before you roll your eyes.
I may not get those fancy wings,
but we go way back, me and Him.

Had the wrong hair to be cool,
two left feet back in High School,
fell in love in the lunch room
almost every day.
Remember spending those High School years
working so ******* the lines for the right girl,
never even made it past hello.
Saving money to buy the right style clothes,
platform shoes, remember those?
Seems like right when I got them, they went out of style.
It tickles me now , remembering those hip hugger jeans,
half the zipper than on a coin pouch and **** sure less room,
how I even had them fit on me!
Ya, there were the guys with all the right hair,
Daddy's money and all the hot girls,
most of them are single now and all burned out.
Course I still sit and wonder , every now and then,
how that kiss would have felt and to touch that hair in the wind,
it would have been something to always think about.
The old high school days are a training ground,
lets us learn what lifes going to be about.
Reckon I turned out just fine.

We've done the battle of the toys, cleaned up the crayolla mess,
Mawmaw won't see the artwork on the wall and that high heel won't be missed.
The dog has finally setttled down, the baby doll dress was a close fit,
it's time to run the bubble bath and try a night of rest.
Well half a bottle of supper bubbles and four soaked toilet rolls,
we finally get the  nightgown and powder on the nose.
There she is , so peaceful now,  a little angel
don't you think?
Now how did my car key keys end up in the bathroom sink?

So tired of the phrase...if I have to explain you would'nt understand....
I want to explain so you will understand,
what makes me this way, who I am.
Explain the hurt, the misery...
the demons I deal with...the me you don't see.
I want you to understand so you don't cross that invisible line...
the line you stomp on unknowingly, oh so many times.
I want to explain, damit, just for mankind sake...
when you come back from hell, don't think  nothing changed!

Lately I've been fighting back the urge for crying,
really don't know what's wrong with me.
Guess I've lost the grip on my denying
that the dark pain would never be seen.
Doors have opened where the ghosts all were hiding,
got no more fight left in me.
No strength left to keep my face smiling,
time to face cold reality.
Lately.........feel the urge for crying.....
really , I know what's wrong with me.

I am not the one..who chambered the final round.
Not the Pathfinder, in the smoke who called the choppers
that lifted the dead and wounded off the ground.
I am not the Chaplain who holds the hand of a dying young man,
struggling hard with his belief.
Not the nurse with ****** hands,
eighteen hours with no relief.
I am not the young widow, now with two children ,
feeling left behind,
not the biker who stands guard in a patriotic flag line.
Not the Sargeant, who with respect, present the final flag,
not the Officer, with wet eyes, collecting the causality dog tags.......
           But I could be!

My doors are always  open, they swing both ways.
You can come in and be welcomed, leave just the same.
There is always some food in the frig,
the cabinet is usually  stocked.
You won't find anything fancy but if you're hungry, it will hit the spot.
There are two stacks of fire wood, in case you're here when it's cold.
One is for a quick fire, the other for all night long.
Upstairs is the extra bed, clean towels too , on shelves,
extra razor in the drawer, case you need to shave yourself.
Now the beer is in the bottom drawer of the frig out in the shop,
yes there is a bottle behind the toolbox, case you needing a shot.
I really only got a few rules , most folks have heard before.
Take what you need,  leave what aint yours.
Help with the chores if you get a chance,
clean up behind yourself.
When the time comes at you again, help those that caint help themselves. Welcome.

She aint the pretties, old two tick, floppy ear hound,
she is a keeper though, best friend I ever found.
Now her breath can curl your eyebrows,
her **** fertilized my yard,
and if a thief gives her a treat, well, she forgets what to guard.
Now she aint no bigger then an average possum
but let me tell you what,
that girl can be the biggest bed hog, bet you a two dollars to one.
I reckon though she's a keeper, I see it in her eyes,
caint really see her winking but they're saying" best friends, you and I."

And the Grass People all rejoiced,
the widowed Grasshopper King had made a choice,
finally  fell in love with the Wood Crickett Queen.
Since she too was a widowed soul,
this union held for a future strong,
a union of the Grass People and the Wooded Wings.
A feast was held to spread the news,
creatures of all walk and wings  shared magical tunes,
the whole Valley seemed more alive with this spread of joy.
So now when ever you sit out on the porch swing,
relaxing, sipping on a cold drink...
listen and you may even hear....
the Wood Crickett saying...good night my dear.

Would have been too easy to just walk away,
let the words of hate just fade,
live for another day....
but there was pride in motion.
So here is where the tears come from,
look at what cannot be undone,
lost  daughters and sons....
because of pride in motion.
The tribes people had the right words to say,
let the dark horse ride away,
sleep away any shame....
but there was too much pride in motion.
There will many more songs on tongues,
words of what was done....
but we will never learn to stop pride in motion.
So here is where we will lay,
we will never learn to walk away,
let the dark horse  see the other side of day....
let pride stay in motion...............

On the back of our property, up on a hill,
an old black oak stands still.
Spent alot of time under those limbs,
Dad and me, putting engines back in.
Him just a cuzzin and wrenches flying,
me with a flashlight  with a battery dying.
Run out of daylight and patience at times
but he'd get the old clunker running just fine.
There was time in the making with this man I called Dad,
learning in progress, good or bad.
I learned that a garage is  easier to work in,
easier to find tools thrown when the temper sets in.
Found that my daughters are not afraid of grease on  their hands,
all because of lessons learned from the man called Dad.
Those that take the time, energy , committ,
to the tasks at hand , then the name will fit.
Step up to the plate, take your stand,
welcome to the world of men called Dad.

I feel your gaze up on me,
we've spoken not a word,
you want my hands to ****** you,
I want to be where we are not heard.
Take you to a secluded spot,
remove your restricted bonds,
play my fingers along your body,
you, me, alone.
Feel that gentle tug, then more urgent ,
demanding my response,
bending, twisting, trying to hold on!
At last, though, there seems no chance,
cruel work demands my days,
so dry up ******* of mine,
put that fishing pole away!

Unanswered questions, untold truth,
so typical when dealing with fools.
Not my truck that you got in to,
no chance of daylight between him and you.
Not my truck....
Not my truck with the windows smoked up,
Nope, .........not my truck.
Heard the wreck scene  had alot of blood....
heard they also found drugs...
nope not my truck....
No tears for the fool...
now who could that be?
....Him...you.... me?......
Nope, not my truck.

I see the wetness glistening from your slim body.
You have been away from me too long.
My memory of your sweetness needs no egging on.
I can not wait much longer, we need to be alone.
You know just what  I hunger. You sparkle in your ways.
You know just how to control the rythem. A little  give and take.
You fit so perfect in my hand, made just for me.
Come a little closer, stop teasing me.
My lips are so close to you, your sweetness I am about to taste.
Man there is nothing on this earth like a cold beer at the end of the day!

We cannot all be the finger on a tigger,
a silent team in the night,
unknown heros correcting a wrong
with a long awaited right.
We have our place.
We can be the strength behind the trigger,
the pull of full support,
the welcome mat for those unknown heros,
a team that comes back one man short.
No, not all can be the messenger,
not all can bring the sting
but all can band together and let Freedom finally ring!

There is a beautiful woman at the end of the bar,
the kind you see riding in a flashy car.
Not in here, in this smokey atmosphere.
She is playing with drink and a nervous smile,
look closer and you see she has been crying for awhile.
Angel flying too close to the ground.
Her wings have let her down.

chorus; But somewhere out there  someone is mad at her,
or she is ****** at the whole **** World....
nothing is as it seems,
bar room angels are few and far in
between.
Made for fools like me...nothing is as it seems.

She is the kind of woman that will get your guard down.
You will fall so easy, happy with what you have found..
nothing is as it seems, yes there are many fools like me.

Chorus:

So your  feet take you closer to her
but your heart stops you, best beware,
we have been her before,
never again we swore.
Cause somewhere out there someone is mad at her,
they fell for her charm now their feelings are hurt,
nothing is as it seems.
Plenty of fools like me.
Nothing is as it seems.
The fool would'nt be me.

http://authspot.com/poetry/newborn-let-the-journey-begin/

The gentle wind whips the unsecured haylard along the abandoned flag pole,
overwatching the once busy parade field, now overgrown.
Here we stood, starched and shined, rows and rows and rows,
waiting for that final command, " Pass in review," oh so long ago.
The haylard, now rusting away,
used to be secured, twice, each and every day.
Like the the empty parade field, the soldiers there have come and gone,
and as if the haylard could sing a song, when will they all come home?

Had my foot resting on the pig pen,
watching my sows bringing new litters in,
wondering if these would help ends meet.
The crops all dried in that Texas heat,
we had to find work in the city so we could eat.
That was 35 summers ago.
Stood in line with all my gear on,
about two hours before dawn,
worried if I was going to qualify.
They dropped us, rolled us
and pretty much as they pleased,
got rid of a lot of boys except me,
told me to get back in line.
That was 35 summers ago.
  Thirty five summers of doing it all,
sometimes knocked on my *** and **** near crawl,
made a life out of what I have.
Seen things I did'nt want to see,
did things that would normally not be me,
made it through most of the tough times.
That was 35 summers ago.
Hope I got 35 more summers to go.

Well come on in and stay awhile,
got some ice tea, know your throats probably dry.
With all this weather , kind of been sitting around,
just feeding my face and putting on pounds.
So tonight I figured we'd better go light,
cook a little different and start eating ' right.'
So I've got me some Romaine lettuce washed in the pan,
got some  rice in the cooker and a can of light spam.
We going to pan roast the spam in a little sesame oil
and then serve it in this lettuce and rice  like a summer roll.
Course you can get as fancy as them chefs on TV,
but for now , well this is good enough for me.
Gonna join me?

It has been some time since I've thought of you,
this Mothers Day I'll give credit where credit is due,
want to thank you for allowing me my first breath.
I know I took a lot away from you,
your dream, freedom and your youth,
you reminded me of that in your own way.
I was seventeen when I left home,
about as long as you've been gone,
no one to give this Mothers Day card to.
I wonder if you were still around,
how you would feel the way I turned out,
would you give credit to where credit is due.
No one to give this Mothers Day card to
but I'll still give credit to where credit is due.

Oh my Love, your leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
Replaced it with a  river of steel that burns,
forever crashing with misery and pain.
  The lift has been taken from the wings of love,
as I am no longer cradled there with you,
I am here now , earth bound, alone....it's true..
..you are gone.
           The songs  of joy, once so resoundful,
no longer ring in my ears.
The only  sound that echoes now, the knock on the door
I had feared.
This stone that marks the place where my Love now lays,
has become my alter, my place I seek,
each and every day.
Oh my Love you leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
I dream of us , talk of us, whish.....until we meet again.



This is a dedication. We all think of widows during War, primarily as the females role. In modern conflicts, this role has become a shared pain. Freedom comes with  a cost. Not all price tags are visible.

His Daddy always would stop and stare,
in the window, back in town, at the boots displayed there.
These stops did not go un noticed, to the sons' alert eyes...
yes these boots come Christmas, yes these will be the surprise.
Our world is entangled, a war we do not believe,
these wars seperate family, even on Christmas eve.
Some of our sons and daughters, husband ,brothers
and wives, all fight for a call for freedom.....some
the ultimate sacrifice.
Twas the ringing of the door bell,
a sound some have become to fear,
that brought this waiting family to the brink of endless tears.
Yet there in the door way, not a messenger of bad news,
stood the returning father, home from the war so soon.
Arms hold each other. Son  and Father unite.
This is a Merry Christmas.This is an awsome sight.
The son rushes to the tree, the present  to retrieve.
In his blind joy of his fathers return, there was something he had'nt seen.
As the boots are presented, tears run down the fathers face.
Yes son these are  the very best boots but there is something out of place.
You see I have been wounded, these feet are not really mine.
I lost both of my good ones with a few of my friends lives.
Hey though little buddy, these boots I will always keep.
This Christmas I am still home with you, it only cost me two feet!




* As Long as Our Troops  Are There, We Should Be there Too. If not Physical, then in Mind and Spirit! Ironbutt

It's the last few hours..
the  seats and trays put up..
Most of the passengers are starting to wake up..
somewhere down there, thousand feet below...
waiting for me....home.
Asphalt drive ways, no IED's..
warm hugs from friends..
no enemy...
Home...
Please wait till we have reached our destination...
palms sweating now..feel a hesitation..
So lucky for me... a tear fills my eye..
not all of us got the chance to be on this flight...
Home......

Riding in my truck with the windows rolled down,
finally got a chance to get out of town.
Got bills caught up and still have a paycheck,
got two days off before the job wants me back.
Summer sun feeling friendly on my face,
everyones showing off the pounds they've erased.
Girls are getting hotter and guys trying to be cool,
seems like everyones posing at the pools.
Me , I aint in to all that,
feeling comfortable in my pulled out shirt and old straw hat,
no need to **** in my stomach no more,
I'll take a second trip to the buffet table for sure.
In an old folding chair, near the water, where you'll find me,
pretty sure I'll be smiling  with a cup of coke and Jim Beam.
Friendly winds blowing my way,
half way through a two day stay.
Ahhhhh!

The got down on their knees and asked The Man for rain.
Crops were drying up,looked like a bad year for grain.
The bills started piling up , the note came they'd loose the land.
They  held on tight as a family should, never lost faith in The Man.
Rain never  came across the parched land even the fish had a worry or two,
so the good folks came up with a last dith plan cause that's what good folks do.
They brought a few cattle down from the hills,
along with a few fat pigs.
Cleaned up and painted the barn ,then built a huge , fancy BBQ rig.
Got word out to the neighbors and everyone in between,
told them there would be the biggest three day gathering, the biggest they'd ever seen.
Well still no rain but no fret, there was work going on,
these folks never lost faith in The Man, they were not going to loose this farm!
Come Friday noon there came a rumble, almost like a distant storm.
No it wasn't lightning or rain, it was three thousand bikers mabey more!
They all lined up for this three day event, music, foolishness and good food.
Paid thirty dollars a head  and signed a paper they'd obey the rules.
Music filled the farm air that night and fun was had for days.
Then like the rule book had printed out, they cleaned up and road away.
Now the farm was saved and bills were paid, worries put away,
as the last biker road away in the dust....the sky opened up with rain!

Growing up too  fast and worry about the  dance she missed.
The World  seems so wrong when a teenager has a kid.
The social circle seems to pass her by,
hear her  on the cell phone as she starts to cry.
Want to hold her, she is still so much a child.
Reasure her that life has not passed her by.
Let her know the worth of the treasure she hold.
Find more comfort in her child then any friends she could ever own.
Her heart  may skip a beat ,
some day it will be worth the pain  from the child she keeps.
I know right now she has got the teenager blues,
some day  she will be able to get through the grey and see the blue.
Right now I just hold them  both , mother and child.
Daughter and grand daughter, just rest and relax, close your eyes.
My heart skips a beat.

Dedicated to 'Big John' 1954-2002


It's time to prep for the nights show,
the band is already unloading at the back door.
Got to brief the new guy and rewalk the floor,
let too many in here the night before.
Use cardboard and tape to protect the ribs.
Shin guards in place  for all those low hits.
Take off the jewlery and tie back the hair,
leave nothing for them to grab when you step out there.
Drink lots of water, swallow a pain pill...
it's show time for a bouncer they say is over the hill.
Crowds looking good for a Saturday night.
Plenty of women, yet somebody will fight.
Seems  when not enough space and too much *****,
messes up the calculation of one and one equals two!
Got two female bouncers that are a special class act.
They know how to work it and come in real fast.
Big John gives me the nod and it time to open the doors.
Lets Rock and Roll baby we are here until four!




* Big John was a bouncer that took me under his wing ( a huge wing) taught me to be polite yet forcefull. 99% of folks just come to have a good time.It's that 1% that will try to ruin it.That's where we come in.

http://authspot.com/short-stories/and-so-it-came-to-pass/

We walked through these hills of youth, together you and me.
We chased us some pretty girls , had some tight times in between.
We answered the calling and left these muddy roads,
now Iam the one standing here, the one who made it back home.
You were always the faster one, the one with all the luck.
You could wear a white T shirt, come out clean ,even when mud got slung.
They say you where their rod of steal, never would try to bend,
you went the way  you wanted to, right down to the end.
So Brother, here I stand,  in the middle of this dirt road.
A shot of this Jim Beam will wash the hurt down my throat.
I hope you taste   your shot and give that crazy smile....
go in peace my Brother, see you on the other side. Love you man.

I had a vision. My people call it a 'Hectia'.

I wade into a moonlit river, the current slowly passes by,
it carries small , musical shimmers..
black and white.....
like an unfinished song....
snapshots of my life.
I am calm. Continue into the current,
slowly being surrounded by the shimmer of black and white.
I become one with their song...
I move with the current...
soon the river and I move on...
the picture is complete.
It is a vision, now it must be understood.

* Some people spend their entire life, wanting more, searching, demanding, feeling left out or not fit in.
Find your place, face the wind and feel its refreshness, not cursing its direction. In order to run with the fastest deer one must first know how to stand .

So a journey, or a walk about, kept me off these pages, time not my closest friend.
I struggled with my task at hand,  worried that I would fail in the end.
Mercy has a gentle touch, her whispers fall on true ears,
she helped me with my new load, she brought light to my fears.
Childish laughter now crys replace,
rattling pots and things out of place.
Being a Grandparent ,with a responsibilty to uphold,
without this joy and laughter,  the burden would be a load.
I am a different poet, some may fine,
not all punctuations or phrases in line.
Take time to put away your 'P' and 'Q's,
you may fine a line or two that reflects or amuse.
Yes, life is a journey, this I have said,
wrote a book about it, on every page.
So, I am back, check up on some friends,
read what they have and see where they have been.
If you are new here and stumble on me,
I hope you enjoy what I got to read.

Your arms reach out for me, still unsure of the touch.
Your eyes search mine for confirmation,
could there  be  love this much.
Every day of your being has made it harder to be apart.
Not one to fall so easily yet I have surrendered to you my heart.
I make no false predictions, no blind eye to what lays beyond
I promise only my committment to be beside you until you say Be gone.
My strength will be your vessel. My love your guiding star.
My patience there beside you.My wisdom to  to steer from wrong.
Again your arms reach out to hold me, this time I  guide them in.
It is a new found feeling,  Love..... let the new journey begin.



I dedicate this poem to my new granddaughter  Sophie. Sep 24 2010.

Got her little fingers in my ear
or her toes digging into my back.
Got me sleeping on the edge of my bed
when we take a nap.
For such a tiny thing, she takes up most of my bed,
stretched out from end to end, toes to head.
So that gives me plenty of time , sit there while she sleeps
and look at this little piece of Heaven that the Good Lord sent to me.
Now I'm not saying that all of this has been an easy road
but I would'nt  trade these moments for a lighter load.
So I cover myself back up with whats left of the warning label from the spread,
feel her snuggle up beside me and I kiss her little head.
My piece of Heaven.

She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, on dangerous streets.
Rubbed raw in places she doesn't bare,
would give half her paycheck for a chance to wash her hair.
   She keeps moving, just like the rest of her patrol,
finding comfort in thinking  that things will get better when she gets back home.
....... She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, nothing left to eat.
She keeps moving, one more place to check,
trying hard to remember the direction to a place for homeless vets.
  Back in the zone , something went wrong,
she has a hard time remembering, getting along.
Things were suppose to have gotten so much better.....
once she got home.

Well Mom came home covered in mud and all  in a fuss,
told Dad she's tired of  bouncing down all those ruts.
Now one thing is true around our house,
you better get busy to calm that woman down!
So Dad had a plan , Jack of All Trades,
he went about making a home made grade.
Took three railroad ties and then added a blade,
hooked it to the tractor and thought he had it made.
Well it seems ,Master of None, that blade just bounced
and nothing was geting done.
Here is where the plan really went wild,
he had all of us kids sit on it for a ride.
That road has a mind of its own
and when it saw this well, it was on!
Dad pulled the whole crew down the road just a bit
and that's when the road said this is it!
We snagged on a rock with that home made blade
and all of us kids went sailing, tail over head!
Wasn't a spot on us that wasn't black or blue,
covered in mud and a few lost shoes.
Needless  to say when Mom  saw all of us,
well that woman let out one hell of a fuss!
We all acted like we couldn't hear,
but even the neighbors got it loud and clear.
So that was the day the score came to a close,
zero for the Dad and one for that old dirt road!

You were more then just a friend,
my supporter to the end.
I can still see your smile
in the memories you've left behind.
Always the first to laugh,
saved your tears to the last,
a shoulder to lean on in the worse of times.
We bowled through this life  with smiles,
shoulder to shoulder, ground covering strides,
I am going to feel your absence for quite a while.
You were a friend,
right down to the end,
and I am not in need to ever say goodbeye,
just see ya, see ya on the otherside.

They have fought for God and Country,  far away from their home.
Now these heroes are behind on morgage loans.
Slept in a six foot shelter, lives on the line,
coming home to nothing, don't rest easy on my mind.
Wish I had enough acres to set them up right here.
Know they know how to build and get them trees cleared.
Kind of like a city where all of of those who gave,
can rebuild their lives and misery be saved.
I know that there are reasons and situations extremes,
the kind of equation that ruins hopes and dreams.
Just doesn't fit me right to see these women and men,
to come back from the gates of Hell and see their world closing in.

Awareness is the seed to a solution.