With the start of the first inning
as the wind whistled through the tree's
Our short stop had his shoulder broke
and the fates blew in on the breeze

This team was a thorn in the side
of the Harding Presidents Club
It was on this night my son Tate
was scheduled to play as a sub

The kid pitching for North Union
hurled a cooking heater down field
You could hear that freight train coming
as it's hide was 'bout to be peeled

Their coach then rallied his talent
pressing their shoulders to the wheel
like natives dancing 'round a fire
driving devils who'd struck a deal

A death defying mid-air, catch
the bounding, ball tossed on the run
The Devil was in town this night
riding in on the setting sun

They dove and slid then nearly flew
as if the angels rode their backs
While running bases half possessed
plowing the field with cleated tracks

No one remembered the last time
that our team had beaten this bunch
That night they took the field in style
serving them all up for their lunch
,
The dice kept coming up seven
and oh prophetically so
When the sun had finally set
the score was seven to zero

Come ye father's follow your child
through the tough times every one
For the oft chance will someday come
when they will have finally won


Tate

© 2012 Tate Morgan

Written
April 12, 2014
Americans love the underdogs.
original
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/1342622/

Original video poem of the same
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/1354978/

We were traveling roads out west
'cross the plains of the great divide
We'd been up into Canada
a country that’s both tall and wide
We drove across the Queens Highway
over the mountains one by one
To the North West Territories
in the land of the midnight sun

Where we came upon a mountain
that was cleaved in half at the top
At the bottom lay the result
for there the road came to a stop.
Where once had been a little town
now lay the boulders far and wide
An earthquake had torn it in half
and ripped off an entire side

At the base of the mountain lay
a plaque inscribed with all the names
Of those who had perished there
all the families who'd lost their claims
Each of them were drawn by riches
to the gold fields of the North West
There strong of heart, sought a new start
and were willing to brave the test

An old woman in the diner
where we stopped to marvel the scene
Set there telling us the story
as she managed to cook and clean
"Only one soul had made it out
and lived through that horrible day"
"You know" she said, “they went to bed
that same night that they passed away"

"The night before had seen a storm
that blew a gale across the bridge
They'd built with pride, to the far side
that led to the top of the ridge
There they had drilled and dug and fought
to reach the gold and silver vein
like the miners, Forty Niners
and their kin of the Spanish Maine"

"A child’s cry was the only sound
that could be heard that fateful morn"
But after that I'm sure she wished
that perhaps she'd never been born
The old woman’s face lined with pain
told how she'd lived through cold and fright
Recanted as if yesterday
for the folks she had lost that night


Tate

© 2013 Tate Morgan
Written
September 30, 2013

Both the tears that live in sorrows
along with tears born from pain
Echo through the lost tomorrows
that will never come again

For I had closed my heart away
as to hide behind a door
So the longing I'd kept at bay
would trouble my soul no more

With the storms brought by the spring
came the April winds sublime
The children's happy feet now sing
pitter-patter keeping time

I kept the promise to my heart
burning love has kept me warm
I'll ready for the end in part
with my back turned toward the storm

The sun did set upon my chest
as lost, love cried out in me
“Give me life or give me rest"
was the sound of my hearts plea

Tate

© 2014 Tate Morgan
Written
March 2, 2014
Original
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/1323374/

I have to wonder now and then
as the dreams I once held divine
Have left me just like other men
to age and wither on the vine

Where once I thought that I would be
so much further along in life
Now the dreams that I once could see
so cut me quick just like a knife

Perhaps the gods that rule my fate
have turned their backs upon me now
Lacking what I once thought so great
leaves me this truth to disavow

Where is the strength that gave men pause
where once I bent life to my will
When I was game for hell and cause
and drank until I'd had my fill

Be careful where your shadow cast
as the dimming light pays a toll
The day will come you breathe your last
when you will have to face your soul

But then I gaze upon my child
with the strength and the fire to fight
I think of when I was so wild
I shunned the day and loved the night

It makes me want to continue
to keep the Hounds of Hell at bay
Push the muscles and the sinew
to wake to face another day

Tate

© 2014 Tate Morgan
Written
March 27, 2014
Original
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/1335062/

I'll tell you my dream come true.  I want to be in love again for that love to be my last.  I wish to run home to her waiting arms every night make love to her till I can't breath.  Forsaking for her all others I'd feel her sweat pour over me, like a waterfall.  To have those rains wash away my sins baptizing me in tears of joy.  Fall asleep to the beat of her heart, all the while her whispers caress my ears with "I love you". Play on the beach sharing our deepest fears and grandest joys.  Wake not knowing where I end, nor where she begins.  Drink of her love till I drown.   Look at the moon each night I'm away, know she’s doing the same.  Close my eyes, feel her heart touch my soul, and know she has shared with me something precious.  Walk hand in hand through the park at 85.  Stare into each others eyes not seeing the years gone by, but the priceless love within.  I want to die in her loving embrace from a life well spent.  All the while the lofting sounds of laughter, pour through my window, as grandchildren play hide and seek, in the fallen leaves of changing colors.  To the sound of the lonesome whistle down the river the steamers would roll.  I dream my last words to be “I love you".  The last sounds I hear to be the new life crying down the hall  echoes of the child that will take my place.  A loving tear from my beloved wife and son, I'd pass from this world with a smile.
Tate

This is the only prose poem I ever wrote. The original poem for my wife
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/447640/

I rode the train with my girl today
across the barn swept hollows
Past lush fields of emerald green
with the life and love that follows

The train car tapped out a lullaby beat
which spent our time lost in leisure
The smiles past came by with the peace
life's sweet gifts we couldn't measure

A man had set across the aisle of us
he seemed so different from me
Clothes tattered, torn and weathered
homeless and likely worn hard was he

I couldn't help but to take the notice
his features hewn and deeply lined
Drawing a map of where he'd been
red eyed he looked half blind

Something alone in his vacant stare
said It was me that he resembled
The thought had taken me a-fright
I looked hard, long and trembled

I saw my lover look over him too
noticed the hair might be the same
Except for straggling beard and decay
I had felt a deep sense of shame

Could that be what would happen to me
what fallen angel had led him astray
A nightmare vision of life’s full truth
eyes of pain in the heart they betray

Then my lover looked back upon me
her thoughts she sought hard to repress
How kind the teared eyes that hid the truth
from her lips that would never confess


Tate
Original version
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/441725/

I dreamed three words within my mind
that longed to touch her heart
Each a third of the love
I had felt for her from the start
________
I'd hid these words I'd treasured so
praying they would only heed
But needing love they wanted out
to touch the soul they'd freed
_________
So now at last I let them fly
as all would freely do
That she might know the first be I
the others Love and You

Tate

Original version with picture of Lucy Hamilton Princess of Ireland to whom it was written
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/441949/