Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
50+
I've nothing left to prove.

My ego
and manhood
has been comfortably
watching Hallmark movies
with my wife
for years.

Boosting your ego
is a senseless
waste of energy.

Don't self subscribe.

Allow others to
subscribe to you.

In my field of 36 years of heavy highway construction?

Your ego
would wilt in the summer sun
along with you.

Again,
I have nothing left to prove to anyone in this life.

My 50+ year old ego needs no stroking.

It's called security.
It's called confidence.

And a confident man I am.
Firmly seated into the spine-
Hundreds and hundreds...

Pages of my words for eyes to dine-
To fall asleep with while reading in bed.

Book form one day ?
Not for money, not for gain-

Not for "I told you so's" to say
Not for notoriety and not for fame.

For my children !
A piddly royalty check without fuss-

For my grandchildren
"Oh Look,
Pops - Poppa is still giving to us" with smiling faces.

A legacy of my words-
Days of great and jubilant times-

As if I were flying high with the birds-
And the nights where I struggled for reason and rhyme.

I won't mind being gone, you see-
I just don't want to be forgotten....

I'd just love if one of my poems could help someone see a bit more clearly-
The bite of their apple was a bit less rotten.

So, paperback I hope for one day-
I'd like this for so many reasons-

Not one of them is for the pay-
But, just to be a book on your nightstand for one....

heck,
   for all seasons.

"What was he thinking while inking this write" ?
"Was he down by where the land meets the sea" ?

"Was he at the Hospice garden where he took great delight" ?
"What was David/Pops/Poppa thinking when he wrote this.....

was he
   thinking of me ?
Oh sky of grey...
travel on your
eastward way.

The soaring birds
against your canvas ...
they catch my eye.

At lights end,
and twilight
settles in...
another day
I bid goodbye.

My tired body
on my bed I lay.
Dreams of waking for yet ....
another day.

An ode for
tommorow and
the roots that
it may lay.
Tonight I sleep
with hopes that
I will see
another
tomorrow
after, today.
Don't judge me by my looks
And don't read me by the books
I am brash and I am kind
I am often hard to define.

I am bold, I am shy
I am grounded, but I fly
I love, and I give
I cradle, I forgive.

Though soft I may feel
I am thunder, I am steel
I am smiles and I am laughter
I am happily ever after.

I am tears and I am heartache
I am a mess when I break
I hold tightly,
but I know
when it's time
to reluctantly let go.

I am dove, I am hawk
I am the rose and the rock
I am rain, I am sun
I am who I am,

...I am but an
      imperfect man.
in a world full of monetary greed

       selfishness

               political brain washing

   death

                    lusting fantasies that will never be

      sweaty slave labor

                   delusions

broken promises

         broken backs

wolves with sheep'en faces.....

                  i create a reality

     from my life's moments and minutia

and
  
           this poet

         never forgets the poetry

             i am a poet that

shares his gentle breezes

     bringing words to life

to feel....

       and hopefully see.

poetry and poets

              are to be enjoyed

    by those whose minds are free

      not by those of narrow minds locked up without a key.
This sunset is
remarkable

I have never
felt so alive

The sun
hovers over
the horizon
like a boss
There are lips to die for

There are lips to fall in love with

There are lips that I long to hear whisper my name

Your lips seem to mesmerize me

Your lips;

they are as sweet as the sweetest honey bee
Next page