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Stephen E Yocum Sep 2014
The green glen was bathed,
In bright Sun shine yellow.
Her long white, flowing dress,
Incandescent in the stark light.
She walked alone upon the scene,
Pondering her thoughts and,
Deep within daydreams of him,
He unseen for nearly a year.

She heard the hoof beats,
And turned to see,
A lone rider as if emerging,
From out of that setting sun.

He drew near,
She made out it was him.

He reined in his mount
and gazed down at her,
"I have been a fool, to think
that I must keep a promise
made not by me when
only ten. To Marry a girl,
I do not know or love.
Tell me my good woman,
Do you care for me still?"

"As much as before"
She did reply,
Her hand to her head
to shield the light.

"Then take you my arm,
And come up behind,
On this horse of mine,
Let me carry you away,
And love you forever."

And off they rode together.
How simple this vision, this dream
of nearly every woman and do not
be mistaken, for many a man too.
Who of us does not imagine it,
And wish it often, or at least from
time to time. Loves desire and
personification.

I'm pretty sure his horse was
blazing white and they both
had perfect teeth. (The girl
and the man, not the horse.)
Inspired by a good old, new
English film, story by JA.
I'm just a old romantic fool
and I make no apologies for it.
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2014
He runs to me as if long unseen,
rather than only yesterday.
"Poppy!" he loudly and excitedly
calls out as he jumps, off the ground,
Into my open and waiting arms.
His excitement fully genuine,
His loving hug, firm and fixed.
His seven year old smiling face
and eyes, the stuff that melts my heart.
My own joy boundless and complete,
Another small moment of pure tranquility!
Grandchildren are a true blessing!

The older I get the more of these
moments there seem to be.
Tick tock, tick tock,
that damnable clock.
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2014
It was an insect,
A fateful convergence.
A sting or bite inflicted.
Fever, chills and pain,
swollen arm all raging
within eight hours later.

ER and hospital confined.
Booked into a "Double Room".
Rather sick and needing sleep
I closed my eyes and let the
IV drip.

But this man, my room mate
was a chatty and popular fellow.
One phone call after another,
All recalling his medical trouble
in endless and stark detail.
Oh not softly mind you, at the
very top of his voice as if he had
very poor quality cell service.

And for two days and nights came
a seemingly endless stream of visitors.
As if it was some happy social occasion.
At one time ten people and kids on his
side of the thin room dividing curtain.
Laughing and talking, mostly all at once.

There appeared to be no rules on when
and how many visitors might be allowed.
And you would think by this guys popularity
that he must be the city mayor or some celebrity.

All these people could not help but see me
laying in bed, eyes closed attempting to sleep.
Must have realized that I was ill and in need
of quite rest, as they entered. And yet none
even lowered their voices.

Finely on the second day of this insanity
I rose from my bed, clad in backless hospital
gown and pulling my IV Stand behind me
pulled back the thin curtain pushing a chair
in front of me and sat down among them.
Saying not a word, just looking at the eight
people gathered there.

A profound silence ensued, all eyes fell on me.
"Well I guess you have not noticed me behind
this non sound proof curtain, sick and in need
of recuperative rest. And figuring I could not
beat you, I though I might as well join you."

Faces reddened, apologies were uttered and
within a few minutes the guests departed.
An hour later I was moved to a private room.
And now a few days later, I'm feeling much better.
I wish all this was merely made up.
It is not. What has happened to people,
where has even common courtesy gone?
Are people really that stupid?
And what the hell is with two bedded rooms?
With what they charge for hospital rooms,
they should all be private!
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2014
I stayed after all the others had left.
Until the last ***** was turned
And the tractor was brought back
to finish and compact.

What had been my friend of many
years, was gone under the earth,
No more a breathing man,
Some bones and wilting flesh,
On the way to merely dust.

I had saved my tears,
But now they flowed.
Rest in peace old friend,
I still got your back.
Your memory lives on,
As long as I survive.
Reflection of a friend.
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2014
A dark moonless night,
Envelopes and hides the field.
The puddles upon the ground,
Have lost their crimson hue.
The twisted stiffened bodies,
Hidden in long deep shadows.

His perch atop the Bell Tower
A lofty lonely isle amid,
A sea of waste and death.
His filthy hands still griping
His instrument of war,
His eye straining at the glass
Searching for movement
In the silent depths below,
Finger on the trigger,
Sweat upon his brow

Three days have come and gone,
Since he climbed those stairs
And took his place among
The pigeons’ and the bells.
He had been a mere boy of
Seventeen three long days ago.
Now he felt a hundred sick,
And tired years old.
And even the pigeons had
Deserted him and flown,
Or been shot to pieces,
From the troops below.

His fingers took inventory,
Only sixteen rounds remained.
He had fired his weapon
Over ninety times and
Never once, had he missed.
Haunting ****** pictures,
Of their devastation continuously
Replayed in his head.

An hour ago he heard
Its treads and engine
Churning in the dark.
The tank had come for him,
Would **** him at first light.

Strangely he felt no fear,
Resigned and willing,
To make of this,
A final, fitting end.
Grown to a man and dead,
All within four days span.
It is a tragedy that any man of any age
is compelled to make that climb, to fire
a weapon, to take a life, to give up his
own. Wars are an abomination.
And sadly it seems mankind will
never understand that.
Somehow we always find a reason.

(Inspired by a dream last night.)
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2014
My many chores in summer's heat,
By this noon all complete.
Sitting neath my shaded porch,
A cooling, gentle breeze
Whispers and envelops me.
A welcome sensation,
Reminiscent of your
Loving hands,
Sensually touching,
And embracing me.
Wonderful how a reminiscent scent,
a bit of music or even merely the feel
of a cooling breeze upon work sweat
skin can conjure a sweet moment of
recall and emotional contentment.
This is one of those occasions just
now felt and said.
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2014
Freedom is a seven letter word that denotes an illusion.
A fleeting boundless state of mind, seldom achieved.
An illusive gift perhaps only truly given from us to
our selves. Maintained with diligence and positive thought.
(I believe and so I am.) Living within, in a Dictatorship or
a Marriage, it remains a state of mind. To attain it, worth a
revolution or a divorce.
For Joe Cole on the subject of Freedom
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