From a distance, the heart knew,
   I was her guy.
Up close, the heart beating,
   made me, to shy.
Looking back, the heart
    regretted,
  I walked by.

The ability given to humans
      To hold,
Has given comfort, strife,
       and marvels untold.

Well wishes, to all who
   survived, another trip
     around the Sun.
Hope it was filled
    with, health, wealth  
        happiness, and fun!
And it continues, for You,
      and "Yours" in the
          "New One
              Just "Begun".

The best, moment,
  in this "Old" man's
     life, it's True.
When, I took your
     hand in mine,
        and said,
            "I DO"
     Happy "52"
        Love You!

Those who poke the Bear,
    do they realize what, they do there.
In their cruelty, do they even care,
    of the mounting danger, and beware.
Who will get the blame, if claws bare,
    And what responsibility does the watcher share.

In writing my poems, it's always my quest,
to take the time, to make it rhyme, but I'm in distress.
I wanted to convey, how much better I rest,
Since the purchase of a great mattress.
My problem you see after plenty of test, I bought a "Purple,"
and "Dang Me" the only thing I found to rhyme was, "Maple Surple."
One of the the worlds favorite pigments, after centuries of time,
has not a single word to which in can rhyme.
A color once held in history as the royal shade,
even now leaves this poet, his poem unmade.
A purple fruit, from which wine we could make,
And someone chose, to call it a "grape."
I say it's high time to correct, this to long slight,
And save the word "Purple" from it's unjust blight
How about you Auto Makers, with your Durango,Sienna, and Tesla.
Come up with a sporty "Verpule," if you wanna Impreza.
Hey, Disney you once rhymed, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,
would doing "Purple" be so atrocious.
Big Pharma, with your colorful, zides, mycins, and statins,
maybe you can use an "urple" in your next covid patents.
You TikTok influencers I'm calling on you,
#Purplechallenge, together, let's see what we can do.
Well, I was really pumped, but now, I just sit here sad.
The Purple Company, sent a gift, an "ORANGE" mattress pad.
So now I pull out my ceremonial sword of "Silver,"
and commit this poem to: "Hari Kilver."

This time of year, I think, what would
   my Grandmother do?
A staunch Republican,
    thru and thru.
We walked her precincts
   together, a long hike,
Proudly, wearing, the buttons,
   "I like Ike."
Yet, Jesus was her strength,
   and guide.
With her former party,  
    would she still, side???

It seems, human
  "civilizations,"
     only plan,
       to sacrifice
         their soul,
           and riches,
             to harm their,
               fellow man.

The task, Wear a mask.

Let me be! Land of free!

Get a shot? Toss a lot?

Still a fear, For those dear.

What to do?  Life askew.

Head in sand, Many best plan.

Why this strife? The game of life.

Because so few walked the path
    of climates, master,
So many are fleeing the path
    of climates, disaster.

Though I'm gone, I couldn't stay.
You can bring me back any day,
Meet me in your mind, and
we can play.

I lost you, in the dark of night.
   You said, something no longer right.
I lost you, in the sunlight of day.
   You said, you couldn't go on this way.
I lost you, truly from the very start.
   You said, I unable to give my heart.
I lost you, realizing now what it cost.
   You said, I would feel the loss.

My best play,
   On many a day,
       What, I didn't say.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed,
  But: planning for it, a "Need."

Unfortunately "Cs" look like an "A",
after the "Fs" have their say.

Dreams, swirl around, like leaves in a breeze.
                        Life, is the ones, we seize.

In "these days" I consider
it luck, if the the movie
I stream doesn't use F-word.

In the "good old days"
I'd get a back hand hit,
if I ever said S-word.

My grandma, would give a,
Biblical slam, if I muttered,
D-word.

Someone's fetching a switch.
if I called, my sister a B-word

Yet in the "old days" I
do recall my black
friend, braying like a
donkey, calling me H-word,
and we would snicker, when
I called him N-word.

Let's go the speed limit, and patiently wait,
  said no one ever, on a U.S. Interstate.

Be it:
  Good, Bad,
    Happy, Sad,
      Great, Mad.
From beginning
   to end.
We must fend,
    with the time,
        We're born in.

SO MANY HAVE COME BEFORE MY TIME,
           TO THIS KNOWLEDGE, I MUST RESIGN,
                      AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT, WILL NEVER BE MINE.

Have you faced the
  soul crushing reality,
of a time you will no
  longer be.
What the memories
  those left behind
   will see?

Riches and fame,
      seldom the game.
Contentment and pride,
       still a good ride.

AN AWKWARD FIRST KISS, UNDER THE PORCH LIGHT,
THE COMEBACK KISS, REMEMBERED ALL NIGHT.

Loss of a friend,
  a life chapter end.

Oh, to think that it would happen on Christmas Day.  

1. When she opened the ring box, what would she say?

2. I'd be pulling guard duty in a land, far away.

3. The locks have been changed, I have nowhere to stay.

4. I'd actually be riding, in a one horse open sleigh.

5. The snow made a Christmas card out of the bay.

More that's said:
       With fewer words.
More likely:
       Remembered,when heard.

The thoughts, the composition,
  is all Me,
on the take, of my lifespan
   as I see.
Destined to float alone unseen
   in a digital sea,
unless it finds a connection,
   with a We.

THE ETERNAL MIST WHISPERS TO OUR MIND HOW IT WILL BE,

THE RAGING STORM FILLS OUR MIND WITH THAT WE WANT TO SEE.

I Cheer,
     For less Fear,
           In the coming Year.

Today, my country  
  shows off,  It's "freedom""
   winning might.
While people seeking
   that freedom
     hide in fright.
Our brave troops,
   will march
   tanks, will break
      the roads,
jets and bombers,
   will fly.
While, world wide
   funds are cut,
     sick, and
       hungry die.
Politicians, will salute,
    grandstand, and cheer!
Tomorrow, V.A. funding,
  for the, sick,
   and wounded,
    not so clear.
Happy "250" to all
present and past
   for your sacrifice.
    to the "American
      Ideal."
One more task,
   we "appeal"
Make it fast, your
     "President"
  has a "spur" in
      his "heel."

In "My" dreams, it seems, that I should be saving beautiful princesses, in castles, above a blue lagoon.
Instead of searching everywhere, without my underwear, for a clean bathroom.

When looking at photos,
    of persons,or places,
        I loved to see.
I find, with every
    new year,they're,
      talking, more to me.

Go to school, don't play the fool.
    Before you know it, you may be a poet.

I sleep the nights away, for in my Dreams you still appear.
I weep the days away, for in my Life you're no longer here.

Candles in all the windows,
   on a blizzard night.
Icy self reflection
   of a face, of fright.
Prayers in frosted breath,
   hope you're alright.

As I begin my poem, holding my pen,
I realize when I finish. I'll be older than I've ever been.

Is this really the best way to spend my time.
Trying to connect to another, with my rhyme.

Perhaps the worst thing that I really do,
is stealing the finite time, that belongs to you.

Oh, the  size of my inflated ego.
To do this insult, to someone, I don't even know.

For this I hope you'll forgive my sin.
For now, you're older than you've ever been.

I'm sure my little poems,
  have no chance of getting
    anything "Done".
In a World of "Seven"
   thousand languages
       I know "One".

One young woman, One young man.
She comes down towards him, on her fathers hand.

Two smiles, Two hearts, Two lives to blend.
So happy, So sure, So ready to begin.

He stands tall, The hopeful Young Knight.
She dazzles all, The Princess in White.

Priest in cassock, arms in the air,
Welcomes everyone, to the joyous affair.

A candle is lit, vows are read,
Everyone straining to hear what is said.

Picking hands, they exchange gold rings,
As the ***** plays, and the singer sings.

Together they kneel as prayers are said,
The procession of faithful, for wine and bread.

Then the Priest ask, "For blessings through life"
For this newest of Husbands,and his young Wife.

All the planning, and bustle leading to this,
So quickly over, Sealed with a kiss.

Then they walk to their future, hand held in hand,
One young Woman, One young Man.

Let me queue,
    you, into a great,
       decorating style.
A bedroom, where,
  your eyes, close
     and reopen, to
         a smile.

One thing, it seems human nature can't abide,
    Believing, it could be on the wrong side.

If you want to write a poem,
         about being angry.
             You need to first get hungry.

A honest belief,
  Can bring relief,
    While causing
       grief.
        May effects,
         be brief.

The feel of sand beneath the toes.
The smell of sea breeze fills the nose.
The sigh of foaming surf soothes the ears.
The heady taste of a few cold beers.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
Oh so easy on the eye.
Leaving everyday troubles behind.
In a paradise state of mind.

It seems, those who complain about the high price of Gas,

Should take more notice, of the vehicles they fly Pass.

BE YOU,
BE TRUE.

The poem that you write, that's such a delight,
         in the middle of the night,
             Seems, to lite, and so less bright,
                             in the daylight.

As I see it, the would
       be poets
           prime mission.
To leave their
         take, on the
             human condition.
Like no two snowflakes,
          in light flurry, or
               blizzard, the same.
No two earth bound
           humans ever played,
                an identical game.
Giving to the future
            our feelings
                 from the past.
Seems a most
             noble, present
                   day task.

Preachers:
  only sow,
    the path,
      they know,
        and how you:
            must go.
Teachers:
   show where
      faiths, and
        knowledge,
          reside,
          and the answer:
               you decide.

Hurried
   Blurried,
     Wide
        Eyed,
          Attraction
            Action,
              Ending
                Sending,
                  Bedding
                    Shedding.

Keep it simple,
   keep it neat.
Make it easy,
     to repeat.
Maybe they,
    won't delete.