Dad made a kite
Out of paper and wood
And a white, ripped up sheet for a tail.
We all watched with wonder when without any wind
He could make his kite rise up and sail!
The trick, he would tell us
Is to run just a bit, then let the string play out just so.
There is wind up above us that you cannot see
It will make the kite rise up and go.

Up went his kite
High up over the trees
And soon it was up with clouds.
It dipped, skipped and twirled as he tightened his rein
“It’s DANCING!” we shouted out loud!
The kite, he would tell us
Responds to your touch, don’t hold it too loose or too tight.
Be forgiving, yet firm, let it fly by itself
And most times it will turn out all right.

Dad gave the kite
To the youngest child there,
And the rest of us waited our turn.
The kite soared, then collapsed; our confidence too
Dad taught; we attempted to learn.
Life, he would tell us
Is like flying a kite, you hold on but you cannot control.
Don’t let a failure or lack of success
Stop you from reaching your goal.

Be like the kite
Reach as high as you can
Set your goals high, and dance with the clouds!
Respect and remember the wind you can’t see.
It’s your Faith that will make others proud.
Faith, he would tell us
Is the courage to fly, and belief in a Presence unseen.
But most of all Faith is the strength to go on
When your kite gets stuck high in a tree.
PwL 3/30/15

The beauty of a living thing
Is part of Nature’s plan
So a flower in the garden
Is worth two in the hand.
PwL 5/29/15

Drivin’ with the kids in tow
Windows down, nowhere to go
Hands outside, feel wind blow
On country roads, fields passin’ slow.

Saw a hayrack sittin’ by a fence
“Rocks for Sale – Fifty Cents”
Thought I, it makes no earthly sense
To demand for rocks some recompense.

But the sign - unique enough to hail
(I protested - but to no avail)
The missus and the kids prevailed
A sale you see, is still a sale!

Before day and feelings I did mar
Realizing for the course it’s par
I turned around and stopped the car
It’s what I’ve become, and whom we are .

To the rack and rocks the kids did sprint
I got closer, had to squint
So I could read the finer print
Kids might have seen, but care they din’t.

Said the bigger rocks did cost a buck
I knew then that I was out of luck
Between a hard place and a rock I’m stuck
‘Twas bait and switch, and smelled like muck.

But the kids had picked from rocks galore
Put them in the trunk to store
The rack was less some rocks times four
And the coffee can had four bucks more!
PwL  5/16/15

The Street
An accountant went to work one day
Passed a beggar on the street
“Hey buddy, can you spare some change,
     I need a bite to eat.”
The accountant took a dollar out;
Pushed it toward the man
“You know, Bud, you should get a job
Do you have some kind of plan?
I see you here each morning,
Watching while I go to work.
Asking strangers for their extra change -
Man, are you a ****!”

The beggar gave the dollar back,
“You can keep the buck.
I watch people for a living
Some are kind, and some just ****.
I record all their reactions
And I’m going to write a book
You’re in Chapter Four, I think:
‘Those who took a second look.’
Chapter One? Those people pass me by
And look the other way.
Pretending they can’t see me,
Not hearing what I say.
Chapter Two is full of angry folks
Who stare like I’m diseased,
One of them once spit at me –
He missed though; I was pleased.
Some people give me money
Covert, so others do not see
Like I’m a change jar on the dresser -
They’re in Chapter Three.
But Chapter Four, my favorite,
Is the one that you’ll be in.
You gave me grief for sittin’ here
But you did it with a grin.
And you reached into your wallet
Though I suspect you had some change,
And TALKED to me a minute
THAT’s the part that’s really STRANGE!”

“Only one in out of a hundred
Will spend a minute of their time
And add some conversation
To their nickel or their dime
To ask what brought me to this street
Or where I’m going next.
Most engrossed in mobile cell phones;
Talking;  Sending text
To others who are just like them
Scurrying to work
Too rushed to spend a minute
With the jobless beggar ****.”

“So when a person such as you
Stops to give me time of day
I know he’s worth a listen to,
I want to hear what he might say.
And if you can spare a bit more time
Let’s get some coffee down the street.
You can keep your dollar,
It’s going to be my treat.”

The Coffee Shop
They sat at a corner table
And ordered two - both black
And the beggar started talking
When the waitress turned her back.

“I’m an author and a poet
My office is the street
I find poems, verse and stories
In everyone I meet.
And I sense you have a story
It’s my intent to find it out.
So tell me Mr. Business Man,
What are you about?”

The Accountant’s Story
The coffees came, he took a sip
Eyed the poet with a smile,
“Will you please pass the sugar?
This might take awhile.
I’m a professional accountant
I do audit work and tax,
And now, it’s after April
I have a few days to relax.
I went to college at a big name school
Then I passed the CPA,
Was recruited by a couple firms,
I started right away.
Been doing this for twenty years.
Senior partner after ten –“

And the poet interrupted,
“Would you do it all again?”

“I have a wife, two kids, and I'm a member
At a real exclusive club
A standing weekly tee time
(Sometimes I have to get a sub)
Because I often work on weekends
So I don’t get far behind
And it’s quiet in the office
But the wife and kids don’t mind …….”

The accountant’s voice then trailed off
As he stared down at his cup,
Stirring sugar round and round.
“That about sums it up.”

“But I asked you if you had the chance
Would you do it all again?
I kind of get the feeling
That your keeping something in.
I kind of get the feeling
There’s something missing in your life
With your country club and tee times
With your two kids and your wife.
And your audits and your taxes
And the partnership you’re in
Now go back to your Big Name School
Start the story over again.”

Accountant’s Story Two
“I was gonna be a teacher
And probably a coach
I thought that kids could learn from me
If I took the right approach.
And then a guidance counselor
Stopped me in the hall
Hey Bud, What will you study
When you enter college in the fall?
“I said, ‘I guess I’ll be a teacher.’
He replied, ‘The Hell with that
You’re smart, and very good at math –
Accounting’s where it’s at,
They make a lot more money
Than a teacher ever will
You should be an accountant
You should use your skill.’ “
“At the time I thought it made good sense
I was very good in math
So I took accounting courses
And have continued down that path.
That is it.  My story.  How I got right here today.
I’ve made a lot of money
More than you I dare to say.
So tell me Beggar / Poet
Do you make enough to eat?
Where do you go in winter
When its freezing on the street?

Second Cup
They called the waitress over
And ordered two more Joes
The Poet said, “It’s my turn
Here’s how my story goes.”

The Poet’s Story
I’m an author and a poet
And I live right down the street
Like I told you I get stories
From the people that I meet.
As for making money
I’ve published once or twice
Pays the condo rent and buys me food
The royalties are nice.
But writing is a hobby
I went to college just like you
But I lost it when I got there
Had no clue what I should do
So I drank and took a lot of drugs
Partied way more than I should
Till a teacher took me to the side
And said, ‘Buddy it’s all good.”
Get it out.  Learn lessons. And then go out and teach.
You never know who you can help.
Or the people you can reach.’
So when it's cold here on the street
The winter winds are biting
I’m at an inner city school
I teach creative writing.
And the money people like you give?
I pick out kids that don’t have much
Add a couple twenties of my own
So I don't get out of touch.
I take them shopping after school
And I buy them school supplies.
I figure ends support the means,
And forgive my 'beggar'  lies.

The End
Now you have both their stories,
And I might have let mine slip.
The accountant paid for coffee.
The poet left the tip.

PwL  4/7/15

Where you going?
What d’ya see?
A hundred thousand polka dots
A comin’ after me
Polka dots and tater tots
And french fried onion skins
A priest in a confession booth
Forgivin’ all our sins
Two or three gorillas
And an elephant in the room
Someone tell the maitre’ d
He’d best be leavin’ soon
Cuz the waiter and the waitress
Have figured out the plot
And if he hangs around much longer
He’s liable to be shot
By a psychopathic mushroom
Or a ******* pizza pie
While the rabid rocket scientist
Wonders how he got that high
The ******* with bedroom eyes
Looks the other way, and
The specialist in pantomime
Does not know what to say.
A hundred thousand looks at love
Not a single one survives
Yet, with regret and toil and sweat
We go on with our lives.
pwl 5/20/15

Sailboat on a purple sea
Yellow skies are all she sees
Lonely Captain at the helm
Lord o’er all her ocean realm.

Sailboat on a purple sea
Sailing through Eternity
The yellow skies reveal her ardor
Searching for inlet or harbor.
Where she can safely drop her anchor
Without hostility or rancor
Stay forever, or a day
If on a whim she sails away.
To search again for other shores
Unmindful of the ocean’s mores.
Sometimes storms impede her course
Fill her journey with remorse
Thunder sounds a deaf’ning roar
Through driving rain, can’t see the shore
Lightning bolts around her flash
As if to call the Captain brash
For thinking that she has control
Over purple ocean’s vitriol.

If ever she regrets her plight
When yellow skies turn dark at night
And midnight storms have lead to loss
She rights the ship and bears the cross
And waits for morning dawn to break
Sun through last night’s rain will make
A rainbow reaching far away
Certainly it will show the way
To steer her sailboat that day.

Sailboat on a purple sea
Yellow skies are all she sees
Buoyant Captain at the helm
Lord o’er all her ocean realm.
PwL 04/21/15

I am your chameleon;
I turn blue when you are sad
I turn green when you are jealous
And red when you are mad.
I turn yellow when you are afraid
And when you’re feeling down
I’m on the ground beside you,
In a somber shade of brown.

When the sun is hidden by the clouds
And nothing goes your way,
You can find me in your shadow,
I’m the one that’s turning gray.
When others seek to see me
They squint and look right through
Because, darling, I’m transparent
To anyone but you.
Pwl 6/6/15

Precious Metals

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

She’s got a smile that turns me upside down,
Inside out and every which way
And I hope I’ll get to see that smile
Every morning, every new day.
When she laughs the world’s ecstatic
When she’s angry they look out,
Cause she’s precious metals all mixed up
And here’s what she’s about:

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

She’s got a dynamite body that’ll knock you out
Sometimes she says things without thinkin’
And she likes a good martini,
So she’s fun to take out drinkin’.
She sets her goals and standards high,
Not afraid to chase her dreams
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And this is how she seems:

She’s got steel-blue eyes and an iron will
A lead-foot when she’s driving
A silver tongue but she never lies,
Brassy bold when she’s conniving.
She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

Yeah, She’s precious metals all mixed up
And I’ll love her till she’s old….
Cause the precious metal I love best
Is her heart made out of gold.

PwL 12/06

I am glad when people party
And Conga all around
When I see folks havin’ lots of fun
I am the happiest guy in town
I love to listen to their laughter
I’m ecstatic when they sing
If you ask me why I’m happy?
I say “Cuz’ Sad just ain’t my thing!”

You know the birds are always happy
They are singing all day long
Did you ever hear birds sing the Blues?
No, they sing HAPPY songs!
When they line up on a wire
And suddenly take wing
They’re gonna fly away all happy
‘Cuz Sad just ain’t their thing!

The Sun comes up each morning
Making rainbows, drying rain
Even on a cloudy day,
Mr. Sun will not complain
He’s up there smiling, laughing and
Peeking through the clouds
Helping everyone be happy
‘Cuz Sad just ain’t allowed.

I even think the clouds are happy
They are dancing all around
Making polka-dotted shadows
On the people on the ground.
Birds and Sun and Clouds and
People singing, dancing all around
When everyone is Happy!
Sad ain't nowhere to be found!
PwL  5/5/15

Fangs bared
Dripping with venom
The rattler lies in wait
The Shwisshing Hissing  warning
Always too late
Blind-sided victim
Struck in the heart
Dies of the venom the snake did impart.

The dying victim
Calls out in vain
I did not deserve this
Why won’t you explain?
I offered you love, but
You bit my hand
Killed me with lies
I just don’t understand.

Without a word
Snake slithers away
Hides under a rock
Awaiting more prey.
PwL  March 2015

Oh, to sleep the sleep of youth;
Peaceful dreams, and blissful truth
When every morning brings the sun,
Battles fought, and victories won!
Victory sweet, misfortune ****,
Yet those that bear a champion’s heart
Stand upright, tall, despite the end,
And humbly shake opponent's hand
Congratulations on fine play
To meet, compete another day
Hope the foe will others tell,
“He fought with honor, he played well.”

Oh, how the aging fight with sleep;
Nightmares, abject fears run deep
That life on earth is almost done,
Morning might not bring the sun.
Once strong, the warrior now is frail
In the final battle death prevails,
Though none but God has kept the score
The champion longs for one quest more
Long life results in necessity
To replace lost skills with strategy
We long to hear, at final bell,
“He fought with honor, he played well.”
PWL 12/25/16

Agnes McDuff collected strange stuff,
Or so the story goes:

There were old pots and pans,
String, rubber bands,
Boxes and boxes of clothes,
Newspapers, plates,
Books stored in crates,
And candlesticks lined up in rows.
Some mason jars,
Toy trucks and cars,
A model train with a whistle that blows,
Needles and spools,
All kinds of tools,
And shoes with holes in the toes.

There were tables and chairs,
Bookends in pairs,
A grandfather clock that was broke,
An old brass spittoon,
Some Sunday cartoons,
And a bicycle mssing a spoke.
Four or five hundred old wooden blocks,
Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks,
A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke,
A board game missing directions,
A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections,
And a great big rusty tuba.  What a joke!

There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough;
About what was stored in
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.

Part 2
Agnes’ attic was quite special
But not for the things it contained
But for how she had to get there
Please let me explain!

Agnes had a one-story house
A flight of stairs led to the attic.
When she opened up the door,
The light came on automatic.

It opened to a hallway
Where there was another door
Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which
Led back down to the first floor!

Where an elevator waited
To take her up again?
But it had just one button
And it was numbered “10”.

When she pushed it, it was crazy
The elevator turned upon its side,
Grew wheels and drove out on the street
For an amazing ride!

Across a long suspension bridge,
Then underneath a tunnel,
And then it went around and round
Like circling down a funnel!

It dropped upon a railroad track
Hooked onto the caboose
And followed to the roundhouse
Where it finally broke loose.

It turned around a couple times
And ran out toward the street
The elevator ran, of course
Because it had grown two feet!

It ran across an avenue,
Around a lake, and through a park
And then through another tunnel
Where it was very dark.

A mile later it emerged,
At Agnes’ house, by her front door!
The elevator walked inside,
And was on the second floor!!

So that’s how Agnes reached her attic,
Perhaps someday you’ll go there too,
Push the elevator button,
And you’ll find my story’s true!

Part 3
Agnes stood there in her attic
And smiled at all her stuff
That almost ends the story of
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.

But Agnes’ story can never end
Her smile turned to a frown,
Because you see poor Agnes
Forgot how to get back down!!
PwL  May 1, 2015

“Will you please leave the light on?”
Said the young Boy to his Dad.
“I’m kinda scared at night time, but
I hope that you’re not mad ‘cuz when
I am grown up big like you, I won’t be afraid no more
Then you can turn the light off and even shut the door.”

“It’s not the dark that scares me.”
Said the Father to his Son.
“It’s the early hours of morning
When the light has just begun
To creep in through the window,
Push the darkness from the room and
Sweep away the shadows like an
Illuminating broom.”

“So why’s the morning scare you, Dad?”
“I really like the day.  I get dressed and Mom makes breakfast,
I get to watch TV and play.
Sometimes we go out shopping and buy groceries and stuff,
She might buy me an ice cream cone – if I’m good enough.”

The Father laughed, sat on the bed, and held his small Son’s hand.
“I wish I could explain it, Son, in a way you’d understand.
At night the dark can hide the truth, I dream and make big plans.
Then morning brings reality to my castles built in sand.
While you and Mom have breakfast, I have to go to work.
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY and duties I can’t shirk.
People there DEPEND-ON-ME.  I don’t want to LET-THEM-DOWN.”
Dad suddenly stopped talking when he saw his young Boy frown.

“It sounds like you don’t like your work.”
“You should stay home with Mom and me!
Then you can help make breakfast, and it’ll be us three.
We’ll have a really good time - you won’t be afraid of day.
We’ll help Mom do the dishes, then we’ll go out and play.
Maybe you can pitch some ***** and I can learn to bat?
‘Cuz please don’t tell her, but you know - Mom isn’t good at that.
But she can go out shopping, and we’ll stay home alone,
And, DAD, if you are REALLY good, I’ll make YOU an ice cream cone!”

Dad leaned over, kissed his Son, and said, “I think I might.”
“You said some things that I forgot, and I think you got it right.
I know you and Mom DEPEND-ON-ME, and
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY
To help her make the breakfast and to help you learn to bat,
And maybe I’m afraid of day ‘cuz I’ve been forgetting that.
So tonight I’ll leave my light on
And I’ll leave your light on, too.
And tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll stay home with you!
PwL 1990 to 2015

A candidate from Springfield town
Confused, was wandering all around
He addressed the voters with a grin,
“I do not know what state I’m in,
But we're headed toward election day
And here's a game you all can play!"
The game is "Voting Booth Roulette"
Spin the wheel and place a bet
Put all your money down on me
I think as voters you'll agree
That a vote for me is a **** good bet
Here’s a list of what you’ll get:
Fewer jobs and
Higher taxes
Shredded emails, notes and faxes
Promises
That I won’t keep
Longer work hours
Much less sleep
Construction work on every road
Less money for the schools
More politician pensions, yes
Vote for me, my betting fools."
PwL  5/26/15

I see your bags all packed for leavin’
And I’m sure you have a reason
But there ain’t no reason I could understand.

You tell me you need freedom
And I wish I could believe ya
But I think your ‘freedom’ means another man.

So if freedom’s just a cover
And you’re leavin’ for another
Here’s my advice – I hope it makes some sense

You should compare the life your choosin’
With the one that you’ll be losin’
Cuz the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence.

No the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence –
Sometimes it’s a confusing shade of brown
Compare the life your choosin’
With the one that you’ll be losin’
Life might not be better on the other side of town.


Yeah, he’s probably real good lookin’
Tells you he just loves your cookin’
Takes you clubbin’ and goes dancin’ all night long.

But at night when you are sleepin’
Midnight memories come creepin’
Do you shed a tear when you hear our favorite song”

Think hard before you cut the cord,
Don’t choose a life you can’t afford
Don’t ever want you having no regrets.

Consider what you’re doin’,
And all the lives you’ll ruin
The grass might not be greener on the far side of the fence.

No the grass ain’t always greener on the far side of the fence –
Sometimes it’s a confusing shade of brown
Consider what you’re doin’,
And all the lives you’ll ruin
Life might not be better on the other side of town.


Well I guess that I’ll stop the lecture now
Cuz you ain’t listenin’ anyhow
There's nothing more that I can say or do.

I’ll help you haul your bags outside
That Cadillac must be your ride
I hope the driver takes good care of you.

And baby you can keep my key
Consider it a gift from me
I’ll go on livin’ in the present tense.

Then when I’m done with my friend Jack,
Most likely I won’t want you back
Cuz' I like the color green I got on my side of the fence.

Yeah I like the color green I got on my side of the fence
No matter what I'm gonna hold my ground
Then when I’m done with my friend Jack,
Most likely I won’t want you back
I like the color green I got on my side of the town.
pwl 2014

Skillful poet still in shock
He / She suffered writer’s block
PwL 6/5/15

Blinding blue and red lights
Pierce the roadside night,
Slowing cars to a crawl.
Officer directs you past
To prevent gapers
Still you look quickly, try to see.
But the ambulance is in no hurry.
Who has to make the call
That will destroy someone’s life?
pwl  7/7/15

Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015

When troubles build up mountain-size
Clouds and fog obscure the peak,
You cannot see the pathway up,
The future’s looking bleak,
When there aren’t enough hours in each day
Or enough days in each week,
You’re in a boat without a paddle
In a swiftly moving creek,
Your friends have faded into black,
Your whole life has sprung a leak,
Fate just punched you in the face
So you turned the other cheek.
When others have inherited
What was promised to the meek;
Faith alone can give you strength
And the solace that you seek.

When the morning sun defeats the fog
And brings the light to day
Illuminates the pathway up
And the clouds are pushed away
When the hourglass is full of sand
Each grain longer than a day
Your friends are in the audience for
The commencement of your play
The curtain rises, they applaud
The black has turned to gray,
You fight toward your own ending
Despite what critics say
If virtue is its own reward
Then all will be okay
For the faithful have their just reward
When comes the Judgement Day.
pwl 5/8/15

My Brothers and Sister and Me
We all share the same genes
Though some hide it better than others.
Similarities And Differences are pronounced.
The apples don’t fall far from the tree
Though a couple of them bounced.

Apples baked into pies or
Thrown to the horses
Rotten and brown and wormy and
Delicious apple cider in the Fall.
Applesauce and apple butter and Appleton, Wisconsin
Looking for a job?  Applications for them all.

Mountains, and mountains of books
Rivers, and streams of numbers
Hiking and running through canyons
Flowers and gardens and mushrooms and parks.
Shooting pheasants in the fields
Shooting stars in the dark.

Time will tell.  Time will tell
Mom’s in Heaven, Dad’s in his own Hell.
Whose footsteps will you follow?
What size boots do you own?
Who most will you resemble?
When your own kids are grown.

We are laughing.  We are laughing.
We are librarians and teachers
And accountants and staff and lumbermen always.
And still we all laugh.  
“Thought one of you’d be a preacher.”
“Good money in that.”

Each generation’s gaps grow wider
As the trees grow taller the apples fall farther
Similarities and Differences well-defined
Still laughing. Still laughing at things
New genes swimming in the family pool
Some of the cousins can sing!!
PwL March, 2015

I am Phil
I am Phil
Phil I am.

That Phil I am
That Phil I am
I do not like that Phil I am.

Would you like to drink some Scotch?
No Phil I am.  No I would not.
I would not like to drink some Scotch.

Would you drink Scotch on the Rocks?

I would not drink Scotch on the Rocks
I think it tastes like ***** socks
So get down off that Dewars box
I will not drink a Scotch with you
No that is something I won’t do
I might drink *****, might drink gin
But drinking Scotch would be a sin.

Would you drink some Chivas Regal?

I think Scotch should be illegal!
What is it that you do not get?
I just don't like the taste of it!
Scotch just doesn’t suit me well
I do not even like the smell.
Give me wine or give me beer
But don’t talk to me when Scotch is near.

Would you like a single malt?

I don’t like Scotch.  It’s not your fault.

Would you try some Lagavulin?

I won’t drink Scotch; I’m not foolin’
I won’t drink Scotch all by myself
With you or anybody else
I hate the smell
I hate the taste
To serve ME Scotch
Would be a WASTE!

Well!!  You don’t have to cause a scene
Just try a sip, see what I mean
It’s really not that bad, at all
Don’t drink the bar stuff, drink the call
All the ‘Glens’ are really nice
Drink them neat, add 1 cube ice
One ice cube brings out the taste
Two or more would be a waste.
Try just a sip, and you will see
Then you might drink a Scotch with me.

Oh Phil I am
Oh Phil I am
You wore me down.
Was that the plan?
I guess I’ll let my scruples slip
And try a Scotch – a tiny sip.

Sip.    Sip.      SSSSippppss.

Oh (licks his lipsss)
This is good.  This is really good,
I think that I can taste the peat.
It’s not too smoky, not too sweet
It’s not at all what I expected
Now I’ve got my thoughts collected
My admiration resurrected
I think I like Scotch, Yes it’s true.
I think I'll drink a Scotch with you.
In fact, Phil, I just might have two!
Do you have some Johnnie Walker Blue?
PwL   April 8, 2015

I was wandering the country
In my cowboy hat and boots
When anybody asked me, said
“I’m searchin’ for my roots –
I been livin’ in Missouri and
I’m a stubborn SOB and I wanta
Know just who I am
Want to find my family.

My Grandpa was a preacher man
From Southern Illinois,
Got a married lady pregnant
And they had a baby boy.
The lady moved away
To hide from all the shame,
And the little boy grew up and
Only knew his Daddy’s name.

Well the little boy, (my Father,
From the story I was told)
Lived rough from the beginning -
He was only twelve years old
When he got in trouble fightin’
(Neighbor called his Mom a *****)
And five or six years later
He tried to rob a store.
They tried him as a juvenile, and
Put him in the ‘System’,
Stamped ‘Marine Corp’ on his folder
Dad did not resist ‘em.

He went to boot camp near Savannah
Where they send ‘em all at first
Did the basics and the training
(The first weeks were the worst)
He went to town one evening
Lookin’ for some place to fight
Bought a bottle of tequila,
Found a girlfriend for the night
Told her he was going overseas,
That she should treat him right,
They were sweaty with Savannah heat
Her apartment was nearby,
They made love until the morning light,
She didn't shed a tear, or cry.

In the morning neither one of them
Recalled the other’s name
They shared a joint for breakfast
No blood, no foul, no shame
They exchanged their names and numbers,
She knew he’d probably never call,
He put her’s in his pocket,
Soldier protocol.
He grabbed a taxi back to base.
She spent the day in bed.
Remembering his hands, his face
She couldn’t push him from her head.

A few weeks later she felt sick, and
Went to see a nurse
She prayed that it was a cold or flu,
But expected something worse,
Her fears confirmed,
She begged her God
For sanity and strength.
Knowing that she couldn’t keep the child
So she knelt and prayed at length;
It became to her apparent,
Adoption was the better way,
But she didn’t call the father
For fear of what he’d say.

I finally found her in Savannah
She had never moved from there
Never married, worked a coffee shop
All we could do was stare.
No apologies were needed,
I hugged her,
We both cried,
And I knew that when she gave me up
Something inside her died.
I asked her how she met my dad,
She said, “He was in a bar, on leave.
He was drunk and he was handsome,
I was younger, and naïve.
He told me I was beautiful
I told him he was too.
And I’ll be ******, but son,
Your father looked alot like you."

She said, "I called and left a message,
But an officer called me back.
“I’m sorry Ma’am,” he said,
But your boyfriend won’t be back.
He was killed with seven others
In a terrorist attack.
But he left a lot of letters,
Rubber-banded in a stack.
To “Maria in Savannah”,
No last name and no address
Just a number on the envelope,
You can pick them up, I guess.”

I gave the officer my address, and
He sent them all to me.
There were a dozen letters
All printed carefully.
Your father, (his given name was Steve)
Told me about his early life
Told me what he knew about his parents,
And about the time he spent in jail.
He had stacked up all the letters
Because there wasn’t any mail.
The last one that he wrote me -
His last day as a Marine
He told me I was pretty,
Best lookin’ gal he’d ever seen.
And he told me he was comin’ home
To straighten out his life
And he asked me, in that letter, if I would be his wife.

Will you be goin’?  Or can you stay awhile?
I’ve got a little extra room
And there’s work here (it don’t pay too much)
If you know how to push a broom.
I guess that I should ask you if I’ve got grandkids,
And other stuff like that,
And I’ll bet that you’re from Texas
With those cowboy boots and hat.
Your father grew up troubled
But he was a **** good man
I’m gonna look him up in Heaven,
At least now that’s my plan.
Thanks for findin’ me and callin’
I shoulda called you years ago,
But I was scared ‘bout what you’d think
And ….  Oh I don’t know.
Sometimes I’m not proud of who I am
And all the things I’ve done
Wouldn’t want to push my troubles
On my one and only son.
It’s kinda hard to ask forgiveness from
The son I gave away,
But now you’re here, and I hope
You’ll take a couple weeks and stay.
That is if you want to,
And I know that you probably don’t
But I want to know the son I lost
And if you don’t stay, then I guess I won’t."

I said, “Mom, I’m from Missouri,
I’m a stubborn SOB
I been wanderin’ round the country
Lookin’ for my family.
And I’m thinkin’
You’re the only one
That really knew my Dad
And about you “givin’ me away?”
It’s the only choice you had.
I will stay here if you let me
I’d like to find a gal like you
We’ll make you a Grandma
And then she can love you too.”
PwL  5/18/15

Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.

I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.

If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.

I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.

Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.

Silently I sit here.

PwL 6/16/15

Part 4*
When we last left poor Agnes
In her attic all alone
She couldn’t find her way back down,
And she had no telephone.
No light switch and no stairway
She couldn’t find the hall
The elevator disappeared
(It had sunk into the floor)
And to make her situation worse,
She couldn’t find the door!

But Agnes McDuff was pretty tough;
She didn’t mess around
She thought of stuff that she could use
To help her get back down.

First she lit the candlesticks
So she would have some light -
For an attic with no window
Is black as darkest night.

With candlelight, she now could see;
She dumped the clothes from all the boxes,
Put the boxes on the table,
Next she stacked the wooden blocks.
She found some nails and a hammer
In her Grandma’s toolbox.
She nailed it all together
And on top she nailed the chairs
Now Agnes had a set of crazy, crooked
Homemade stairs!
Agnes went back to the toolbox,
She saw a saw was there,
She carried it very carefully
As she climbed the crazy stair.

Now you might have a feeling
Of what she was going to do
Yes, she climbed up to the ceiling, and
Used the saw to cut right through!

She climbed back down and looked around
Found the rubber bands and string
Added several woolen socks
And made a giant sling!

She rummaged through the dumped out clothes
Found a wedding dress and suit
And with the needle and the spool of thread
Made a great big parachute!

She hooked the parachute to the bicycle
(The one without a spoke)
And tied the back wheel to the tuba
And that was NOT a joke.

The tuba was quite heavy
So it kept the bike at rest
Once again climbed up the crazy stair
And performed the final test.

She nailed both ends of the slingshot
Around the opening she’d sawn
Hooked the sling around the bicycle
Moved the stair, and then got on.

Somehow the clock was working!
It was ringing Three, Two, One
And just as Agnes cut the tie she thought
Boy! This could be FUN!

The slingshot worked!*
Shot Agnes out, on the bike, way up into the sky,
And she looked around in wonder thought,
Boy!  I’ve never been this high!

She went up a mile or so
Before she dared look down
She saw the long suspension bridge
And the other parts of town.
She saw the entrance to the tunnel
(The rest was under ground)
She saw the roundhouse and the avenue
The park and then the lake
Finally, she saw her house
There was no mistake!

So she deployed the parachute
And gently she descended
And this is where the story
Of Agnes Attic should have ended.

She walked up to the doorway
Turned the handle, now you see?
The door was locked from the inside,
Agnes McDuff forgot the key!
PwL  May 4, 2015

Small town sounds
Unlocked doors
Not that many cars.
Main Street grocery store
Nickel candy bars.
Church Street,
“Sunday shoes”,
Parents stood outside and smoked,
Kids caught with cigarettes
Would have allowances revoked.
Corn Growers
Push mowers
Friday football games.
Everybody, Everywhere,
Knew everybody’s name.
Summer shouts
Paper routes
Cub Scouts once a week
Boys and girls in sixth grade
Dancing cheek to cheek.
No shirts
Blue jeans
Walking through the beans
Witches, ghosts and scary things
Every Halloween
Greased pigs
Little League
Swimming lessons in the lake
Talking back to teachers
Was a BIG mistake!
Teachers had hard paddles that
They were not afraid to use
Parents told them,
“Go ahead.”
And they did not refuse.
Bicycles everywhere
Pocket knives
Truth or Dare
Water balloons,
Kids Cartoons
Fishing in the creek
Not it
Gravel pit
Games of Hide and Seek
Bible School
Golden Rule
Jesus Loved Me This I Know
Several generations
Watching children grow.
Laying on a blanket
Watching shooting stars
Teachers went two towns away
When they went to bars.
Home grown tomatoes
Juicy burgers nice and thick
Eating home-made ice cream
Until all of us were sick.
Nine o’clock bedtimes
The nights were very still
I still hear the small town sounds
I guess I always will.
PwL 5/5/15

Poet:  Good Morning Darling!  Can you hear the birds?  The sun is creeping up, too beautiful for words!

Accountant:  It’s 54 degrees with a high of 72 predicted.  You won’t need a coat.

Poet: Ah, the warmth of afternoon sun, won’t our picnic today be fun?

Accountant:  We should leave by 10:30.  I have to get gas.  Have you packed our lunch?

Poet:  I have chicken salad for our lunch, potato chips to add some crunch, I baked the cookies that you liked last time, and bought a bottle of your favorite wine!

Accountant:  I set the GPS.  We should get there right at 11:15.  Do you have a blanket?

Poet:  Yes, a blanket to lay upon the ground, at the edge of the woods that we once found, while lost upon a country road, turned the fortune of our day around!

Accountant:  I charged my cell phone and the ball game starts at 1:20.   A win puts us in first place.  Are you sure we’ll have cell reception?

Poet: Ah, but I will read you poetry about the love I have for thee, leave the city’s crowds and noise behind, to all else but ourselves be blind.

Accountant:  Honey, why are you talking like that?

Poet:  I just joined Hello Poetry, now all the world’s a verse to me, to read and share with HP friends, ecstatic when a poem trends!

Accountant: Yeah, is that what you showed me the other day?  Looked to me like you guys all ‘like’ each other’s poems, and 95% of the people that read yours don’t even like them.

Poet: Really?  (holding back tears)

Accountant: That’s what I calculated.  How many of those cookies are you bringing anyway?

Poet:  I have a dozen, but I can bake more.

Accountant: Nah, 12 is plenty, and by the way, Baby, I just love your poetry, it’s filled with creativity, each word picked out is absolute, with premise that I can’t dispute, I guess one more thing I should say: I’d like it more if it would pay!
PwL May 3, 2015

The foe now lying at your feet
Your goal in sight,
The taste is sweet,
You survived the ****** war
Bury your foe with one stroke more
He will not cry out in pain
He suffers blows, does not complain
But his revenge, his sword’s sharp cut
Goes to your heart – as you miss the putt.
pwl - 8/14/15

She smiled, looked up at him, and quickly kissed his cheek.
Then turned and walked away from the turmoil of the week,
Her crystal blue eyes moistened as she neared the airline gate,
And an inner pain engulfed her as she struggled with her fate.

He stood still, surprised, and wondered what she meant to say,
Her kiss was sweet but melted like the springtime snow in May.
Was it beginning? Was it ending? What future lies ahead?
He said 'Goodbye' and turned away.  Words better left unsaid.

Both home to their own islands, alone with thoughts and doubt.
Nobody they can talk to - No way to work it out.
What will she say? What will he think? My God, what have we done?
And maybe out of Darkness a single ray of sun.

Her resolve much stronger than his lust, her drive to do what's right,
Prevailed and gave her judgement (though she didn't sleep that night.)
And life goes on, and snowfalls come - Young children play on sleds,
And both can dream what might have been. Dreams better left unsaid.
PwL  2005

In the End, the Faithful were rewarded,
But there were just a few.
In the End, most screamed with terror,
As the guilty always do.
In the End, there was a final vote,
And we thought consensus ruled,
But in the End, the voting over,
We discovered we were fooled.

In the End, we ran for shelter,
There was none there to be found;
All the Faithful had secured it;
For they were Heaven-bound.
As the flames lept all around us,
We begged forgiveness from our Lord
In a Hell of our own makng,
With riches saved we can’t afford.

For the riches we were chasing,
Stole the goodness from our soul.
All the gold and all the silver
Melted into worthless coal,
And I stood and watched with sadness
Knowing I had had my chance
As the flames lept all around me,
Hell’s eternal damning dance.
PwL  3/19/16

In a nation torn with racial strife
Where killing seems a way of life
Where rappers hold the people’s court
And looting is a favorite sport
Where drugs and thugs, both black and white,
Govern day and rule the night
When Superman is fast asleep
And shadows o’er the addicts creep
And rain don’t wash away the smell
From where it comes it’s hard to tell
Cuz truth ain’t always what it seems
When judges judge and lawyers scream
At least two sides in every fight
And everybody knows what’s right
Cuz the FacebookYouTube miracle
Sends evidence empirical
Across the globe at speeds of light
While the real truth stays out of sight
Hidden by gray overcoats
While politicians gather votes
And make the nation safe again
For women, children, mortal men.

But there are heroes on the street
Men and women you don’t meet
Unless of course you break the law
And you know that sticks in your craw
When a thousand thoughts are in your head
And you don’t see the light turn red
Or you’re headed to a meeting-late
And you’re only going eighty-eight
And the State Cop says “The Law is Clear”
“The limit’s sixty-five right here”
You grumble but you pay the fine
And wonder why he wastes his time
But the Cop has seen a different view
He knows what eighty-eight can do
The mangled steel and shattered glass
Maybe he just saved your ***.

In cities large and village small
Policemen answer every call
In every town and every city
Sometimes it ain’t very pretty
Protect and Serve when Hell breaks loose
Mere seconds, all they have to choose
What course of action they must take
And pray to God there’s no mistake
Cuz each Monday Morning Quarterback
Will pick a side and then attack
And argue based on “evidence”,
“What they would do”, and “common sense”
While sitting in an easy chair
So very thankful they weren’t there
And radicals from either side
Make threats and say the other lied
And which of us, if we weren’t there
Could ever judge a verdict fair?
Families grieve and loved ones cry
Both innocent and guilty die
Sometimes truth ain’t black or white
Only God knows wrong from right.
pwl 1/7/15

The Man in the Moon will be leavin’ soon
Officially, he retired.
But Polaris and some other stars
Are saying he got fired
The Man in the Moon would never leave
Of his own volition.
Management, cutting back on costs,
Is phasing out his position.

His quarterly reviews have not been going very well,
They say he isn’t any good with change.
When he gives his full attention, he seems to do ok,
But lately he’s been acting kind of strange,
His bosses claim he sleeps all day.
And on cloudy nights, he stays away,
(It’d be age discrimination if they said he’s getting old)
So they say that he won’t listen and won’t do as he is told.
They say because he has seniority,
That he resents authority,
Won’t show his new boss how the job is done,
And in their final summary, out of ten, they gave him three,
Said that he doesn’t hold a candle to the sun.

But those of us who know his work
Know he would never, ever shirk
Responsibility, or jobs that must be done -
At night when he works overtime,
Countless souls look up to him, but
At night they’ll never, ever, see the sun.

If The Man in the Moon is told to leave
Our lives will be amiss,
So I took a poet’s initiative
To make management a list:

Reasons Not to Fire the Man in the Moon
Who will watch young lovers kiss?
Who will push and pull the tides?
Who will occupy the space
Where The Man in the Moon resides?
Who will tell the farmer when it’s time to plant his field?
Who will lead the eclipse when the sun needs lunar shield?
Who will be the subject of songs and nursery rhymes?
Who will notify the werewolf when it’s his changin’ time?
Who will calm the sailors after stormy nights at sea?
Who will make a silhouette of an owl in the tree?
Who will light the children’s path each All Hallows’ Eve?
Who would raise vampires from their coffins
Were The Man in the Moon to leave?

I ask these questions with a plea
Knowing that, if it were up to me
And I had the power to blunt the cutter’s knife,
We’d leave the Earth and Heavens as they’ve been for all these years,
And The Man in the Moon would have his job for life.
PwL  5/24/15w

A poet, an artist, (with little restraint)
Penciled words on his canvas, saw no use for paint,
Crafted words into pictures; Visions out loud.
Of most of his work, was exceedingly proud.
Unfettered, unbounded, his huge canvas at wait
He brandished his pencil and began to create.
Desiring a masterpiece, appealing to all
Pride prompted his excess, preceded his fall
Trapped in a vortex, surrounded by words,
Shared them with others to see if they heard.

The public was skeptic, and reflected the same
His confidence shattered; His ability shamed
He had written with passion, as if possessed
But the silence of critics left him redressed.
“Who is it says everyone cannot be pleased?
Off with their heads!  Get them down on their knees!”
He drew a sharp sword, surrendered a laugh,
Sliced his canvas to shreds, cut his pencil in half.
“I’ve heard your silence, the first version *****”
Sharpened his pencil, wrote ‘Surrounded Redux. ’

PwL 4/20/15

In a rundown house,
On the edge of town
Where the grass is overgrown
The door’s unlocked and open,
The windows all are broke.
It’s been exactly twenty years
Since the chimney last saw smoke.

People pass by without seeing it.
Because it sits back off the road.
But when I pass by, I begin to cry.
It has a story seldom told.

Two nineteen year olds
Once planned their life
In that old abandon house.
She would bring a blanket.
He would bring the wine
They would dream about their future
Plan how they’d spend their time
Traveling to Places
Before they settled down
To raise their perfect family
In a house at the edge of town.

She would spread the blanket
He would build a fire
And long before the wine was gone
They would give in to desire
Passionate and furious
Holding on too tight
As if the dreams they shared
Were slipping
Off into the night.
As if the plans they made were
Smoke
From the fire in the room
Rising out the chimney
Into the afternoon,
Blown away by breezes,
Hidden by the clouds.
Invisible like secret fears
Never voiced aloud.

Spring turned into summer
Winter followed fall -
They began to meet less frequently
Then they didn’t meet at all.
The fire and the passion gone
The room now cold and bare,
The house at the edge of town
Unused,
But still standing there.

The memories of our teenage love
Were strong – We thought that we should meet
Once again in the vacant house set back from the street.
We set a date, but I was late
I almost didn’t go.
I sensed we were pretending;
Trying to return
Passion to a fireplace
Where the fire would not burn.

Eventually I pushed the door
And walked into the room
The fireplace had embers
As if it had burned awhile,
A bottle mostly empty
Had been thrown against the wall.
The blanket laid out smoothly,
But that was not quite all.
I saw my former lover
On the blanket dead and cold
With a note scrolled out in cursive
“I guess I should have known”
“You’re not here.  The fire’s gone. I have no need to live.
I hope that you’ll be happy -
When you finally come around
To the place we shared our love and dreams,
The house at the edge of town."

That’s the tragic story
And the reason for my tears;
The house on the edge of town
Still stands, even after all these years.
PwL  4/11/15

Dad looked up and stared at me; His blue eyes aging, but still clear.
“Reflection, Son. Reflection. It’s like I’m looking in a mirror.
When I look at you, I see myself, about twenty years ago.
I’m on the final laps of life, you have a few to go.
We don’t communicate so well; It’s hard to tell you how I feel,
But now I’m feeling pretty scared, and I sure hope that Heaven’s real.
I made a list of things I learned; I hope you understand,
If I had done a better job, I’d have been a better man.”

“Go 60, don’t go 80. You’ll still get there way too soon.
Turn the TV off at night, watch the clouds drift past the moon.
Tell your wife and kids you love them; Use every chance to hug them tight.
And listen to the crickets and the tree frogs sing at night.
Life is like a movie; There’s a large supporting cast,
Surround yourself with love and friendship, they’re the only things that last.
Don’t be too ******* others; And give yourself a break,
Maybe, Son, it’s not too late to learn from my mistakes.”

“The doctor thinks the cancer’s back, and there’s nothing he can do.
I guess I understand it, after what I put my body through.
Your Mother and I discussed the end – one of us would be the first.
I can’t bear to talk about it, but watching her die was the worst.
She was a special woman; Now she’s waiting up above.
At least I hope that she is waiting, I know I’ve been hard to love.
I’d much rather she was sitting here, my ashes blowing to the wind.
But if there’s a silver lining, it’s that I’ll be with her again.”

“You kids are what we’ve left this world. You are our legacy.
I hope you got the best of her, and not so much of me.
Look at me as if you see your own reflection in a mirror.
Heed the ever-present warning, ‘Things may be closer than they appear.’
I’m tired, and old. I’ve made mistakes, but I worked hard, and did my best.
When God gives me a final score, I hope the good outweighs the rest.
Reflection, Sons, and Daughter. Reflection is the key.
God give you strength and courage to change - based on what you see.”
PwL 5/18/16

Rumor is you break a mirror
Get seven years bad luck,
Well, I ain’t much on rumors,
It’s on the truth I’m stuck.

I looked into the mirror today
What I saw filled me with dread
Some old guy with his hair all gray
Looked like he should be dead.

Age spots covered up his face
There were wrinkles ‘round his eyes
I thought it was a **** disgrace
Or a Halloween disguise.

His cheeks were rough with three days growth
A spot of drool was on his chin
I was pretty shocked, I guess, but not too loath
To look again.

This time I looked inside of me
To the things the mirror won’t show.
To a mind still clear with memories
And a heart where love still grows.

My soul needs some forgivin’
Hell, I’ve lived o’er eighty years
Mistakes made just from livin’
Most washed clean with tears.

I’m thinking that my mirror lied
Maybe it’s already broke,
And the reflection of my outside
Is just a ghastly joke.

Because the inside me is still a boy
Having fun most every day
Living life that’s always filled with joy,
I’m gonna throw that mirror away.
PwL  5/18/15

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are happy or you’re sad,
The whether man will always know
What kind of day you’ve had.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are cold or you are hot,
I can always tell your temperature
Whether you like it or not.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether it is night or day,
I’m always gonna love you whether
You choose to go or stay.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are rich or you are poor,
Whether you are down and out,
Or good luck’s knockin’ at your door

I’m the whether man, I love you;
But whether I’m happy is up to you
Whether I’m happy depends on
Whether or not you say you love me too!
pwl  6/7/15

Saw Robert Zimmerman again
After way too many years
Now I can’t stop my brain from singin’ .
I’ve always loved his poems -
The way he bends his words
Into pictures I can see out loud,
Illustrations of America, though blurred.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I used your real name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Dylan
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died,
I had just about turned five,
Five more years slid past me
The Beatles sang on TV - live.  
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage,
Viet Nam and Woodstock
Were currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked
The Disco Ball was turnin’
I put on a cowboy hat,
Johnny sang a song ‘bout burnin’.
I’ve been blowin’ in the wind
For over sixty years;
Now I’m tryin’ to write some poems, ‘bout my life,
And it appears,
That all my poems sound like songs
I’ve heard throughout the years.
---PwL  5/24/15

Saw Robert Zimmerman Again
After way too many years Now
Can’t stop my brain from singin’ But
It’s not what it appears See
I’ve always loved his poems And
The way he bends his words Into
Pictures I can see out loud, Illustrations
That I’ve heard.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I besmirch your name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died, Guess
That I had just turned five, Then
Five more years slid past me When
The Beatles sang on TV - LIVE.  And
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage, Seems
Viet Nam and Woodstock Were
Currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked While
The Disco Ball was turnin’  But
I put on a Cowboy Hat, Helped
Johnny sing ‘bout burnin’.  So I
Been blowin’ in the wind for Over
Sixty years; Now I’m Tryin’
To write some Poems, ‘Bout my Life and
It appears  That my poems Sound
Like all the songs I’ve heard throughout
The Years.

Come and Listen to a Story
‘Bout a guy named Phil
Tried to grab some Glory
But I guess he never will.
For as he fired up his pencil
Over hot and blazing coals
Granny loaded up her shotgun
Shot his poems full of holes.
Good shot, Granny.  Right in the heart.  Make it Bleed girl.
Y’all Come Back Now, Y’Hear?
PwL  5/5/15

“I’m all in,” the gambler grinned, and
Pushed his chips toward the center of the table.
“Been playin’ hard, finally pulled the card,
You can call if you are able.
It’s all or nothing, - final ***.
Call me.  Show me what you got.

C’mon Man, you hesitatin’ ?
Take your time, I’ll sit here waitin’.


C’mon MAN, you think I’m BLUFFIN’?
Think I’m sittin’ here with NOTHIN’?


C’MON MAN!  Let’s GET THIS DONE!
DON’T ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE
WITH MORE THAN POKER ON THE LINE
FOLD or CALL ME, EITHER’s FINE!

But don’t just sit and stare at me,
And make your judgement silently
I need to win.  I want it all,
For God’s sake, Man, please fold or call


The silent Man called.  

“Son,
Life’s a gamble and she’s dealt us all some bitter hands.
So when you been ‘round long as me
You begin to understand
Don’t matter if you win this time
Eventually you’ll lose
The stakes keep getting bigger, and
Some day you’ll have to choose
Between losin’ everything you got
And keepin’ something dear
And another thing I’ll wager, Son, that you don’t want to hear
Is while the *** keeps getting bigger, the odds get longer too
Sometime soon old lady luck will turn her back on you.”

The Silent Man laid his cards on the table.

“Each day’s a brand new poker hand
Some you win, and some you bluff,
Now you show me what YOU have,
We’ll see if it’s enough.”

PwL, March 29, 2016

A Hundred years is nothing to an oak.
A Thousand to a mountain is a joke.
A Million to a solar system just exceeds its birth.
And we expect to make a difference in roughly eighty years on Earth?
PwL  5/5/15

I was hungry. Starving, actually.
I spied an apple in an apple tree,
It looked so very good to me,
Though it was high as it could be.
So I took a ladder to the tree,
And climbed it, oh, so carefully,
And when I was close as close could be,
I reached out, but it was plain to see,
That a worm got there ahead of me!

But I used to hear my Granny say,
"An apple a day keeps the doctor away."
So I climbed down, and what can I say,
I ate the apple anyway!

PwL  3/13/16

One foggy morning I went walking
Down the pathway to the sea
Cool and dreary
Very eery,
Something, Someone followed me.
I hurried forward never turning
Was I afraid my past I’d see?
I stopped and looked and she was there -
The Woman with the windblown hair.

Standing still, just like a statue
Windblown hair was all that moved
Cool and wary
Very scary
Truth, or something she must prove?
She turned around and bid me follow
To a clearing in a hollow
Soon I knew why I was there,
The Woman with the windblown hair.

Long years ago; forgotten summer
I met a woman with long hair
Very ****
Apoplexy
Caused me stand quite still and stare
To my surprise she then approached me
I stared, but she did not reproach me
Her beauty was without compare -
The Woman with the windblown hair.

She took my hand and bid me follow
To a clearing in a hollow, on that steamy summer day
Sun resplendent
Very pleasant
The grassy spot where we did lay
I loved her then, and tried to hold her,
The evening and her voice got colder
“We’ve had this afternoon to share,”
The Woman with the windblown hair.

“But I’ve a husband; he’ll soon be home.
You’re young, with life in front of you
I was only
Very lonely
I’ll ask forgiveness when it’s due”
She left me, with a final kiss,
“Respect me; Never speak of this."
She left, and left me standing there
The Woman with the windblown hair.

As I recalled those ancient memories
She turned and stared with eyes that burned
Both eyes teary
Very weary
“My husband never did return”
Suddenly the wind was shifting
The sun came out, the fog was lifting,
The Woman with the windblown hair
Was no longer standing there.

I stood alone for what seemed hours
What had happened? How was I supposed to feel?
Ghostly meeting
Very fleeting
Yet it seemed to me quite real.
I felt that I’d been taken there, and
The Woman with the windblown hair
Had spared a young boy’s future life
The boy who loved another’s wife.
PwL  5/16/15