To be among the best
Was the lad’s earnest desire.
He rose above the rest
In his soul there was fire.

He understood well
The severity of the test.
To him it was swell
To pursue this great quest.

He vigorously stayed the course,
He endured all the pain.
Himself he did force
To from quitting refrain.

Graduation day finally came,
The ceremony, it was grand.
Not longing for fortune or fame,
With proud peers he did stand.

Smartly placed on his head
Was the beret of beautiful green.
Nothing more need be said,
All was proudly now seen.

At attention he proudly stood,
With a very swollen chest.
It was now understood,
He was with America’s best.

The path that is often travelled least
Is where we are sometimes led.
Most try, however, with effort increased
To travel another path instead.

To go the way that everyone goes
Is clearly the way of ease.
To some, however, this laziness shows
As self we wish to please.

We think somehow that the “easy” way  
Is always the decision that’s best?
What we often, however, in reality display
Is that from simplicity we should take a rest.
  
The trail that is dust covered and minus the crowd
Is very often treasure filled.
We should therein be continually proud
That we have a challenge fulfilled.

Retirement is a time in life
When one should experience ease.
There should not be the constant strife
Of having to everyone please.

Maybe it is time to write a book,
Or travel to a distant land.
Perhaps one’s desire is to learn to cook
That dish that’s wonderfully grand.

If one’s wish is a new hobby to start
That brings him much delight,
Begin this dream and don’t hastily depart.
Keep the desired goal in sight.

When one reminds you that it can’t be done,
That you have been too long in the race,
Show them anew how you can run.
Do not let them your joy erase.

Oh, there will be obstacles that is for sure.
These simply make victory more sweet.
So hang in there and long endure.
Remove from your mind defeat.

And then when the race has been run,
And the finish line finally crossed,
No more criticism will you have to shun,
Satisfaction will not have been lost.

I goes to work each mornin’
I comes home every night.
I gets out pen and paper
And tries to sit and write.

The words they sometimes comes,
Sometimes they stays away.
I finds it quite annoying
I knows not what to say.

And then to my surprise,
A brilliant thought appears.
I tries to writes it down
Before it disappears.

I fergits with ease these daze,
It’s really not a chore.
The older that I grows,
I fergits more and more.


My spellin’s now improvin’
I guess it’s plane to see.
I finally learned to spell
The word “kertastrofee.”

So as I close this works of art
I hopes it’s brung you joys.
Pleeze don’t throw away!
Pleeze share with others this noise.

Life is what you make it,
Or so the saying goes.
Does it, however, matter
What the enemy throws?

Surely one should be on guard
And great attention pay.
Many things are coming
Down the pike each day.

How one will respond
To an unforeseen event
Is totally dependent
Upon his mental bent.
  
If he is determined
To see good in everything,
Then he will be satisfied
In whatever life does bring.

If, however, he’s negative,
And sees in all a curse,
Then he’ll be singing
A totally opposite verse.

So what then is the point?
It’s really plain to see.
Look always on the positive
And then contented be.

In olden days folks seemed to care
About friends and strangers everywhere
Though things were often in short supply  
There seemed enough to “make it by.”

An attitude of community seemed to prevail
Especially in times of great travail.
Being neighborly was common then
It reached beyond next of kin.

In this day of constant haste,
There is never a moment most have to “waste.”
Is “waste” really the appropriate word?
Does helping a neighbor seem so absurd?
  
It seems we have lost a needed trait.
We seem to have not a moment to wait.
If we, however, are ever despaired
Would we then wish that someone cared?

It is odd, somehow, that when the tables are turned,
We find ourselves wishing more compassion was learned.
That “learning” which then is so desired
Is often by many not acquired.

The day seems long,
There is no end in sight.
Gone is my song
So, hasten the night.

Troubles are many
There seems no relief.
Friends – there aren’t any,
That is my belief.

Is my thinking wrong?
Have I been deceived?
Did I really lose the song?
Or have I foolishly believed??

We fought in the jungles of Viet Nam,
We sailed the South China Sea.
We stormed the beaches of Normandy,
We served that men may be free.

We persevered through trying times,
Endured the scorn of some.
We watched our buddies lose their limbs,
Many never made it home.

In Iraqi Freedom and Desert Storm
We again answered the call.
Many sleepless nights in the heat,
And again, many gave their all.

We are American Veterans, and proudly so.
We care not for glory or fame.
We simply desire common respect,
There’s surely, in this, no shame.

In future days more wars will be fought,
Young folks will be challenged still.
The American Veteran will again stand tall
And conquer through determined will.

I once was young and knew it all.
For advice on no one would I call.
There was little in life that I feared,
In fact, the authorities were often, by me, jeered.

As teen years approached this attitude prevailed.
It mattered not to have tried and failed.
Challenges were met with little concern.
I, obviously, had very much to learn.

As a young adult to a crossroad I came.
I could no longer pursue fortune or fame.
Life was not always going to be
Only that which I had chosen to see.

In turning from my youthful, pride-filled way
I heard one smarter than I say,
“There is always someone smarter than you,
His advice, therefore, you should eagerly pursue.”

Old age is viewed in different ways,
Depending on how you spend your days.
From a youngster’s view it is so far away,
Yet, when it arrives, youth was “yesterday”.

To anticipate “forty”, ‘tis a thing that is true,
Which often makes one sad and blue.
To think after this of reaching “fifty”,
Is to some, “Not very nifty.”

“Sixty or “Seventy” is way out of reach,
Many will themselves, deliberately teach.
While these thoughts are each “quite weighty”,
Have you given much thought to reaching “eighty”?

Yes, old age is a thing most will see,
It should be pursued with much glee.
For to have not reached this joyful goal,
Is to have missed many blessings untold.

The eagle soared to heights above,
Then swooped down to the ground,
To that place that he had grown to love
Where sustenance could be found.

Up above where the air is thin,
He has an amazing view.
It is there his pursuit will begin
To ****** a rat, or shrew.

The astonished victim down below,
Tries to his dismay to flee.
“How can the eagle possibly know,
That I will not long be free?”

Accuracy in vision, as well as in flight,
The eagle can rightly claim.
Supremacy in nearly every fight,
Adds much to his ongoing fame.

Extraordinary creature, certainly is he,
The master of the sky.
Most of creation will surely agree,
And will never try to defy.

Redneck, they sometimes call me,
Though I do not understand why.
Simple is what some choose to be,
Instead of “pie in the sky”.

To stay at home and a quiet evening spend,
Instead of “painting the town”.
To not go after every modern trend,
To be content to just “hang around”.

Flashy clothes, I do not wear,
Overalls are my frequent attire.
For wing-tip shoes, I do not care,
Boots are all that I require.

“Old-fashioned” is another term,
That often to me is applied,
By those who choose never to learn
That “old” ways have not all died.

Being old - fashioned is not nearly so bad,
As many mistakenly think.
It is better far than holding modern fads,
That disappear quick as a blink.

Morality, truth, honor, respect,
Are some of those things not lost.
By those who will not be side-tracked,
By the modern day “new ideas” host.

Yes, I will continue to be “outdated”,
And with bad accusations not care.
These many years I have waited,
Now, my label with pride I do wear.

He came into their yard one dreary day,
Hoping that he there from the rain could stay.
They gazed at him standing there in his miserableness
And quickly realized that he would be more than a guest.

He could not have been more than a few months old,
Standing there timidly yet trying to be bold.
Friendliness he showed with wagging tail,
Convinced that in their favor he would prevail.

They gladly welcomed him into their home,
Wondering from where he had so carelessly roamed.
No average pup was this lovely pooch,
They could not, therefore, name him “*****.”

They contemplated for more than an hour or two,
To reach a conclusion for a name that was new.
It could not be “Rover” or simply “Fido”,
Because of his class, it must be Phydeaux.

There are three ways to do things these days, it seems,
And so the confusion abounds.
As one wishes, plans, and strenuously schemes
To do that novel thing he has found.

There is a right way which is always right,
No matter what others may think.
It seems though that some say with all of their might,
That this way is that which does stink.

Another way there is which is always wrong
And this way many will not leave.
The wrongness they are often pointedly shown,
Yet they simply will not believe.

Then there is a way that is mine. All mine!
It is the way I usually choose.
This way is right in my mind, I opine,
To admit that it is wrong, I refuse!

So I will keep plugging along this path,
Regardless of what others may say.
I will even endure their ridicule and wrath,
When they say there is a much better way.

In the house on the corner lived a huge yellow cat.
This cat was clumsy and a wee bit fat.
He was constantly being pestered by a troublesome rat,
Who was playing with his mind by hiding under a hat.

The cat thought to himself, “I’ll fix this pest,
I’ll prepare for him a cozy nest.”
However, when it was put to the extreme test,
The rat said to him, “Surely you jest!”

The nest was ignored all the way around,
The rat could be heard making an annoying sound.
Nowhere near this nest would he be found,
From his distance the annoyance would continually resound.

The moral of the story is quite simple you see,
The rat was content to antagonize with glee.
The cat, however, no happy camper was he,
He simply was as dumb as could be.

I went for a walk in the park today,
So full of energy was I.
I watched the children busy at play,
They seemed to care less who passed by.

I thought as I watched them, lost in their fun,
“If only we could be so carefree!”
They would frolic for a while and off they would run
Wherever they chose to be.

I found myself wishing that I could return
Back in time if that possibly could be.
How nice it would be to new games learn
And from life’s burdens be free.

After all the “what ifs” were finally passed,
I, back to reality returned.
It was back to work, though not as fast
As to vacation I had wishfully yearned.

The day is cold and dreary,
The folks are growing weary.
Gone is the sun,
The frolicking and fun,
Many are now quite teary.

I read many pages before this pause
I had to stop – just because.
What I had read had stirred my mind
Nowhere else would I these words find!

Startled was I in a moment’s time
My mood had changed from depressed to sublime.
What was it that caused this momentous shift?
Had I suddenly begun to carelessly drift?

Time will tell beyond a doubt
Hopefully I’ll be able to figure it out.
But until then I’ll sit and stare
And eventually I’ll be able to better prepare!