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Have we given up, is it just traders,
Driving the rest of us, in their bus today,
The appreciation of our country, the building blocks,
From our countries past, will be lost, plans in motion now,
No more teaching history class.
It’s sad, at least to me, there are legal age people,
Grown raised in America, that, do not know, and understand,
The reason behind, the Thanksgiving Holiday, although,
When the Holiday is over, the talk of the town, will be,
What the taxi service charged, to bring that big spread to me.
Wow, it’s gone to that, from planning, recipes, a day and a half cooking,
The ladies, teaching their daughters, tricks of the trade, to pass to,
Their children, yes hundreds of years, celebrating Thanksgiving Holiday.
In the beginning, neighbors, families, joined and shared, a big feast,
The men, their sons, hunted all year for meat, planted gardens,
Brought wood inside for heat, and to cook. What happened? It’s gone to,
Every family, in their own home, many do not know, their neighbors,
The Pilgrims & Indians, even shared the first Thanksgiving together.
This one is up to the adults, to keep Thanksgiving a meaningful tradition.
The schools seem to be out of the, patriotism, and religious,
Teachings, exactly what kept this country together, and strong.
In this life, all we leave, are memories for others,
Some of the best, are made and remembered from Holidays.
(Just a reminder, it’s not polite to say Grace, while looking at your phone.)
                                                         ­                                                               
          The Original: Tom Maxwell © 09/28/2024 AD
Tomorrow, is only a dream away,
Remembering, anything can happen,
In this life, any second, any day,
Will the sun shine, or clouds hang,
You can only, dream, of it  today.

Will tomorrow bring, happiness, or sorrow,
Will you be sharing, your wealth with others,
Or will you, half to beg, or borrow, many unknown,
Answers, never known, unless you see tomorrow.

Tomorrow is not just another day, look ahead,
It’s one more step, approaching your grave,
Stay away, from excuses, they make you lazy,
Discover your soul, one day you will never see a tomorrow.

The original: Tom Maxwell ©  9/24/24 AD
She’s a devil in real time,
Just hiding in disguise,
Her veins full of fire,
You can see, the flames in her eyes,
With horns, on her chest,
That use to point up high,
She’ll lead you straight to hell,
With her mouth full of lies.
She’s stopped counting,
How many, she’s lead to their grave,
Her only goal, in life,
Is personal greed every day.
Fooling endless victims,
Who thinks she is so kind,
Then she walks away laughing,
When their life falls behind.
Conceded is a complement,
When you mention her name,
She thinks,
That the world revolves around her,
And her selfish games.
She’s a devil in real life,
Hiding in disguise,
Her veins full of fire,
You can see the flames, in her eyes.


The Original : Tom Maxwell   rewritten  8/17/2024 AD
Originally written  2007 AD
Time comes & goes in this life, in many ways,
Time has three dimensions, past, present, and future,
What is time, so many ways, to describe time,
You wish you had more time, then you lose track, of time,
Then you have too much time, and you waste time,
You may worry about time, then you pass the time of day,
Easter time, Christmas time, each holiday, has its own time,
As do the seasons, spring time, and winter time,
Then its bed time, time to get up, time to eat, time out,
Time to go, It’s about time you came, time for another,
When was the last time, time for reality,
Time moves on, take some time, you can’t buy more time,
Take your time, what about the time, you forgot about the time,
Not much time, somethings, do not take much time,
Its about time, be on time, special times, a bad time,
An easy time, a hard time, sometimes you have no time,
Too much time on your hands, how much time will it take,
Time to move on, night and day, have their own times,
Watch the time, all the time, then you get confused, about time,
The wrong, or right time, its almost time, forget the time,
Do you have any time, who has the time, is it worth the time,
Time to go, time to stop, you take time to think,
Time to change, time to learn, time for your turn,
Sometimes, you get burned.
Seconds, hours, day’s, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries,
So many ways do regulate, and describe time, what is time,
Time is the same, repeats, every twenty - four hours, you would,
Think we could remember, time, although, we are always checking,
The time.
There are two times in our life, the most important, when God,
Created everything, the planets, the moon, the sun, water…
That’s when time started, which is our path to eternity,
The time talked about all of the time, was created, by a human,
To control, regulate, keeping records of the humans, during this lifetime,
When your soul, travels, to its next adventure, you will be back,
On Gods, time.


                               The original: Tom Maxwell © 07/31/2024 A D
You Dreamed about it for years,
Worked hard most of your life to get there,
Your golden years,
The only gold, you found or see,
Is in your *****, when you ***!

The original: Tom Maxwell 8/6/2024 AD
As I watch the wind blow in another day,
Many dreams will fade from yesterday,
The sun will rise again, a new day will begin,
I'm still searching.

We often think, our plans are carved in stone,
Then we look around and were all alone,
Was it wasted time, did we learn in our mind,
Were back to searching.

Searching for the reason, why I am here,
Am I cold, or am I getting close or near,
I will search until the end, some thoughts,
I will stretch and bend, I just know this life, is real,
And  not a game of pretend.

Your ticket will expire, at the end of your stay,
You can't renew it, there is no way,
So make good use of your life, this time,
Find answers for all the questions, within your mind,
Just keep searching.    


                         The original: Tom Maxwell  C  10/ 06/ 05 AD
Wow I wrote this 19 years ago , I can honestly say, I'm still searching....
Many buckets of rain, have fallen to the ground,
The water in Maxwell’s Creek, kept rising,
To the top of the banks, then out of bounds.
The weight of three large telephone poles, deck boards,
With chains and anchors, kept Schaubert’s Bridge,
Safe and sound, as the water was racing under neath,
Flooding many streets, and low areas down – stream,
Even some major interstate – high ways, had to be closed down.
The next day, the sun was shining, the water was back in the creek,
Birds were singing, the deer were back, roaming around,
As we wait for the next adventure, God, shares with us, through Mother Nature,
When she comes back, to visit our town.


                                              The original: Tom Maxwell © 7/21/24 AD
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