Tuesday, May 25, 2010


A piece of driftwood floating along
Across a lake for near two score
It seems right worthy of a song
Though poetry it settles for
This rhyme and meter may be obsolete
To the sound of rhythm and of beat
Though it's what it gets for drifting there
Not song, not book, nor picture I swear
This wood that floats is not that rare
So who will remember him for being there?
Just a hum-drum poet staring at
the lake that it travels on
Oh Mr. Driftwood where will you go
Who will remember your time spent here
Other than me that is sitting here?
Float along and drift away
Just leave it to me to state and say
That This driftwood here it once was there
drift on my friend
go out, drift on.

A Little Poem To Read

Many men are wishy washy
Not stating what they wish
Many women melancholy
Not getting what they want
This is a way to see it real
And not ideal you see
Though I cannot say which I am
I will tell you this
All things in Jesus Christ
They are washed so pure
That men and women
That praiseth Him
They will be so blessed
So man and woman reading this
let your mouth be washed
from evil things in your tongue
That only good things come
This you'll see will make things good
And happy they will be
I hope you have a good time here
Reading my poetry.

Thursday, May 20, 2010


The soldiers, marines and men we send
Off to war to fend our land
With bravery in those hearts so bold
They must let go of loved one’s hand’
Many souls bear weight like gold
And their hearts turn grey an’ cold
Not a lick nor ounce of tarry be
They’re off to set the world a free

With gleaming eyes their wives await
To know when death may take a break
Never feeling as they’re alive
These men fight with valor remembering life
Entrenched in fierce battle, embittered
Not seeing the fruit of the world set free

The war is now over and but a memory
And the men march on home
(the one’s that are left)
With a sovereign sense
They don’t hear the word of recompense
Nor ever forget the tragedies
The tragedies that haunt their very souls

The way these men bear the pain varies between all
But one thing we must understand is the fact that we don’t
So do those men a favor and, hell, leave them alone
The one and only true comfort is that of Jesus Christ,
He has a spot for everyone, wrapped inside His arms
So my lads and soldiers hear this now
Hear me if you will
Come run to Jesus now
In His care you’ll be kept warm

And in this state it all makes sense
That older men start wars
But yet the ones that fight them are
The youth, the ones left lorn
Yah I say the only cure
Is He that made the Earth
God almighty, in His arms ye men will find your rest

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.