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Cecil May 2022
It used to be now,
But now it is not.
I used to know how,
But now I do not.
Time passes through us,
What do we do?
Do we do with it,
Or let it be through?
Wishing time over
Will come at last.
And at last, will we cry,
How quickly it’s passed?
Live in each moment,
Breathe deep, be aware.
Know God and be certain,
There’s no time to spare.
Cecil Nov 2021
I want to be the smile on your face.
I want to be the song in your heart.
I want to part the clouds for your sunshine.
I can’t be your WHOLE, so I’ll be your PART.
I am by your side forever,
To help heal you and always keep you well.
If anyone sings our song for others,
Let that be the story they tell.
My apologies to many for this poem.  I read so often the poem filled with angst, which it seems most poets embrace.  Here is one filled with fluff.
Cecil Apr 2021
Oh my, my dear,
What have you done?
You’ve gone and sinned,
Now it’s all undone.

Now He’s angry,
And you’ve cut the Rope,
That tied you to
Your one last Hope.

You’re all adrift,
In a sea of tears.
Tossed about,
By all your fears.

But there with you,
He still does stand.
Holding fast,
To your trembling hand.

He Always keeps,
His Promise of Grace.
His love for you,
You cannot erase.

So dry your tears,
And fall in The Arms,
That keep you safe,
From all sin’s harms.
Mostly my poems are purposefully ambiguous.  Every now and then I write one that is not...
Cecil Mar 2021
Poetry and life should never let anything go to waste.  God is that way too.
Cecil Mar 2021
“Papaw, whatzat?”
My granddaughter asks,
As she watches me
Pull my pocketwatch
From the front of my bibs
To check the time.
“That’s my watch.”
I tell her,
As she holds it in her hand,
Intently studying.
She shakes her head.
“It takes too long
To know
What time it is.”
She remarks.
Out of the mouths of babes…
But I like it.
The slow deliberate
And quiet ticking
Of the pocketwatch
In my bibs.
There's the slow drawl of my life in this one.
Cecil Mar 2021
My hot coffee awaits.
Sweeten it with kisses.
Soothe my soul
With so soft sounds.
A chuckle is a tickle.
Laughter the ******.
Love becomes laughter,
Laughter becomes love.
A giggle with a snuggle,
A musical, singing sigh.
We say so much without a word,
But draw closer,
You and I.
I did not know what this poem was until I watched Anna with her little girl playing, and then I had to rewrite it to make it just right.
Cecil Jul 2020
I so badly wanted to write
The perfect love-song.
But the words escaped me.

I thought the words all had to rhyme,
The chords had to make perfect harmony.
But I had not heard yet, the song of love.

I had heard the so-soft words.
Whispered in twilight just before dreams.
But had not found their meanings.

I did not know the stop,
To lay softly and be weak.
But instead stood tall, strong, and ready.

When my body could love no more,
I was sure I had achieved wisdom.
But I was just being made silent.

I learned love in the quiet whisper,
In the soft twilight memory of being held.
But thought then it was too late.

And in my tearful lamentations,
Spoken quietly in the wind.
She heard...her hand still in mine.
I have become that curious old man that hobbles down the street, but yet the fire of youth still burns within me.  Now that I am alone, I miss being someone's lover.  I don't think I have the energy left to chase that dream , though.
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