I've hit that crossroad in my life where that,
I am happy to still be here but,
I would also be just as happy if I weren't.

I've climbed the most intimidating mountains.
I've tread the waters of the angriest rage tossed sea.

"Out to pasture" is where I feel my presence in life has landed me.
Sage, and aged is the curse of the neglected.

Like a morning bird's serenade,
I sing my beautiful unique melody to no one but myself.
My only regret is that I wish that I had a bird that sang a memorable morning's serenade in tune with me.

If I
ever
left
me
would I
want to
return
to me?

My love is not for sale.
My love resembles no prison nor jail.

But, nor will I ever try to buy yours.
I can only tell you, true love feels like a summer storm's rain when it pours.

If it's material or gifts you need as proof?
That type of love is a lie, much like the little boy that cried wolf.

Perhaps what you feel then, is just not love at all?
That kind of love can be had by talking to a wall.

What I give is me, something I feel is quite valuable.
A love, a friendship, a person that is anything but malleable.

There is not another you, there is not another me.
So when we are dust of this earth, never again, you and I no one will ever again see.

All of the jewelry, all of the money in this world could certainly never buy me.
My love is the best kind of love, you receive it for free.

And sure, we may not speak or see one another as much as I would like.
But I understand life is very fluent, much like wheels on a Tour de France bike.

Doesn't mean that I will buy you gifts to fill that void, that missing.
Just means when I see you i'll want a lot more hugging and a lot more kissing.

Life is busy, life is very very chaotically busy.
Life is like Father Time, it never stops and it never will for you and me.

A simple phone call, a private message is all I ever need.
Simple things for a simple man, affection and love is all I greed.

Those types of things let me know that little ol' me, crossed your mind in some kind of way.
It's things just like that I never forget, things that totally make my day.

And that is certainly more than enough for me.
And....
and I hope it is enough for you -- from me, for eternity.

Why do I hope this to be?
Because my love is and always will be, .....free!

my poems
are just
another
deposit

of my
life


in a
bank of
words.

I was young at one time in my life.
I then matured and looked for a soulmate, my wife.
Full of passion, there was nothing I could not do, could not fix.
Throws of passion filled days and nights led to children, to the sum of six.
Three daddie's girls and three momma's boys.
Oh what perfect balance, oh what a joy.
A stay at home mom is what was in need.
So I blue collared my calloused hands till they hurt, till they'd bleed.
On one blue collar check we always managed to get by.
My wife not only great with our children, but she'd always have our money mysteriously multiply.
Those days have now passed, most of our children are all grown up and gone.
I look back to when I toiled relentlessly to provide, when I worked my hands clean down to the bone.
It's worth now is priceless, perhaps forgotten about by our children but not by myself and my wife.
When we were young we gave it all, everything we had, to give our six children the best possible life.
Now we have grandchildren and we smile so proudly, beaming, remembering what we have accomplished.
Together my wife and I created our own little community, siblings with numbers and love, something we always wished.
So now its our children's time to be young as my wife and I once were and admire their own passions, their very own dreams.
And its time for us to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets as our children begin to create their own little teams.

I have read many a word from a favorite of mine, Edgar Allan Poe.

Inspiration overwhelms me and his words I often keep in tow.

Macabre, a man that made his own paths, plodded through the quagmire.
A man that was a little off, outnumbered  and unafraid are traits that I admire.

Dark?
Sure, if you are as deep as a thimble full of h2o.

Dark?
I laugh....only as dark where the shadows of cowards grow.

Don't be afraid of those that dare to be different and walk alone.
Don't be afraid of their echoing, stand alone tone.

Poe and those like him are not shadows that cowards like you need to fear!

Poe and those like him are the only ones on this planet that live to keep things real.

i am
a cactus
in the most
extreme
conditioned
desert.

empty
like a
promise
full of
woe but
mostly hurt.

and
if our
paths did
never cross
again.

missing you
would stop
long before
a count
to ten.

ćause
alone is
when i feel
most safe,
most free.

alone along
the river
i want to grow
against
the wind....
the ilk of a
one of a
kind tree.

barefoot
in the
evening's
moon lit
cooling
sand,
at the
edge...
of where
the land
meets
the
mysterious
sea.

staring
out
into what
appears
to be
an infinite
horizon of
mystery.

holding
on to
one another....
the longing,
and gripping
the mystery
of us
ever so
tightly.

we lay
down next
to one another
and begin
to indulge,
allowing
our passion
to flow
like the
wave crashing
sea....

   and
at long
last,
allowing
our passions
to
finally
be freed
by the sea...

just you and me.

the sun
may
decorate
the sky.

but you
my
sun flare.

you,
decorate
my
universe.

I lay and stare up at the ceiling,
waiting with fear...
waiting with anger and confusion unappealing.
I seek comfort,
the comfort of home....
home is where I lay my head, it's my port.
Just twelve months ago the sun made me smile,
even a warm soaking rain I would crack a small grin...
the grin I took for granted like most for a while.
Everyday has now become a challenge,
the never ending hill....
the hill that breaks you of your spirit and breaks you of your will.
Dignity and grace are words that crowd my thoughts,
I'd like to keep my chin up and hide my tears from most...
slip away the man...a man that all will boast.

where the
shore meets
the sea,
is where
believers
fall to
their knees.

reaching out
your hands
you can
almost
touch it,
the horizon
is where
eternal peace
and forever
sits.

by car
by boat
by plane
the travel
towards the
horizon
only
teases us,
the only
way to
truly
get there
is through
Jesus.

as poets,

  we breathe in
the universe.

while others,

can only
   breathe in
themselves.

there,
in the
cold hard
city streets,
on the
concrete jungle's
sidewalk.

his soul
exited
the body
amid the
powerful
aroma of
iron and
silently loud
gasps of
oh my.

his soul
circled
in
disbelief
and could
be heard
over the gasps
asking....


why?

long ago,
my instinct was
to always
stand in
front of the
crowd.

be sure
to be seen
with hands
waving
feverishly,
here
i am.

but alas
as years have
rushed by,
i now have
no want
of being
loud.

in my youth
i was a
lion but now
with
maturity and
wisdom,
i am but
a lamb.

yesterdays
have been
lived in
like your
favorite
pair of
blue jeans.

tomorrows
are never
promised
and are
only what
might have
beens.

todays
are filled
with moments
saved for
tonight's
dreams.

put on
those
blue jeans
and live
like tomorrow
will never
be here.

tomorrow's
yesterday
is today
and today
those
blue jeans
want you
to dance
dear.