- Books, Literature, and Writing
A Few Old Poems
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I stand in the river
Current swiftly, rushing by
The giver of life
The taker of breath
How can I stand against it
As it rages
It drawls me in
With its refreshing nature
But offers no sanctuary
I am no match for its might
Not my time
Though the choice was never mine
Not my time
I wrote this poem some time after I almost drowned while swimming in a river.
Your Own Desire
In times of woe, I feel depressed
I watch a sunset, and feel unrest
Knowing not, what looks ahead
Regretting things undone, unsaid
Dreams and hopes, of each new day
Simply seem, to fade away
A wise man once, said to me
Give your all, or let it be
Inspiration, will conceive
If you learn, to believe
Don’t follow paths, upon a whim
Choose the one, which seems most grim
Follow it, unto the last
Do not falter, be steadfast
Only then, can you conspire
To understand, your own desire
I'm not sure when I wrote this one, but I do know that it was at a time when I was feeling depressed.
The Tall Tale
When I was a boy my Mother told me, you better straighten up.
For if you continue to break all the rules, the devil might snatch you up.
One day I recall as I got home from school, Mom saying change your new shoes.
I didn’t listen, I went out to play, I figured that I couldn’t loose.
It had been raining, the ground was all wet, and I wasn’t thinking at all.
I played in the yard, then out through the cornfield, man I was having a ball.
It started to rain, as I played in the woods, on the other side of the field.
It was muddy and messy, I remembered my shoes, and my tension started to build.
I was hurrying home, when out of nowhere, I sank in the mud to my knee.
I got out of the mud, but was left with one shoe; my Mom was going to kill me.
I searched and I searched, in the mud for my shoe, but it was nowhere to be found.
I needed a story, that I could tell Mom, because my shoe was now under the ground.
I got to the house, and I had my story, I was lucky that I was alive.
It was amazing, that I had escaped, was I really telling a lie?
Then I told her the ground, had opened beneath me, and I saw the devil look up.
He tried to grab me, but just got my shoe, boy that was sure some good luck.
I could tell by the look, on my Mothers face, that she wasn’t buying my tale.
I knew I was in for it, and my heart sank, as my face began to turn pale.
Now my Mother was wise, and loving, and kind, what else was she to do?
I learned a good lesson, and I’ll never forget, the day that I lost my shoe.
This poem is based on a true story, from my childhood. It seems as though I had a tall tale for every occasion.