Why I Don't Write Poetry - Part 10

Tis the night,
Or maybe the early morn.
Twilight's beams prevail.

The earth slumbers
In an drowsy trance
Sleeping beneath the veil.

Will the morning come
With sunlight filling the sky
The breeze waves the wheat.

Night passes,
Day conquers the dark
Blood coursing through my veins.

Slumber inspires
Revives the senses
Strengthens the will

In the light I wander
Looking for what
I may never know.

Something Different About This Night.

She jerks awake in the night, it has become her nightly ritual. The only warmth in her bed is from her own body, still she reaches over to where he would be laying. A deep sign comes from her deep inner soul, thirsty for his touch. Tonight seems different, she rises from the bed and goes to her second story window. Sleep has overtaken her town at this hour of the morning, not even a stray cat was moving. She stands there peering into the darkness, the moonlight embracing her in it's glow. She looks east, and her dreams cover the thousands of miles to where duty has taken him. Tonight she feels his presence with her, she feels as if his arms were around her once more. She runs a finger over her cheek, as he always did, her eyes close as the sensation trickles in her body. Her hand drops to the bare skin just below her neck and continues until her hands cups both breasts. She stands there for a few minutes and opens her eyes to look upon the darkness of the night.

He sits hunkered down in a fox hole, enemy shells bursting in the tree tops all around him. He pulls her picture out of his helmet and gazes upon it. He smiles at the memory of that day at the beach, she looked so young and beautiful in her new swimsuit. Now instead of sand beneath his feet, it was mud and blood. He looks at her smiling at him, her eyes filled with mischief, her hands on her hips, in her best Betty Grable pose. He reaches out and runs his finger over her cheek, just like he had done a thousand times during this war. He continues down with his fingers encircling each breast, his mind thousands of miles away, back in his bed, back besides her. His heart felt as if it would burst, it was so filled with loneliness, so filled with desire for her. Thoughts he had thought a thousand times run through his mind, but tonight something was different.

She tries, but sleep never returns. Her soul was in turmoil. Her body rebelling against all common sense. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. Yes, she thought, there is something different about this night.

The medic pulled her picture from his hand, his eyes still open, still staring at her beauty. The medic looks at it and then puts it in his pocket, he'd see that she would get it back. The medic looked at him lying there in the foxhole. One small wound right over the heart. One small piece of shrapnel was all it took it seemed to burst his heart. Another set of dog tags, another family to notify. Yes, there is nothing different about this night.

Because Of Him

Laughter.
He was always surrounded by laughter.
He was the cause of laughter.
Not at him
Because of him.

Everyone's friend,
Close as a brother.
Always positive
Even during the negative.
Because of him.

Now he died alone
In a cold dark empty house
No one to check on him
No one bothered to care
Because of him.

Don't know the changes
That he must have gone through
Don't know the reasons
No one cared. Could it have been
Because of him.

The end wasn't fair
The end was way too soon.
My friend, my mentor, my class clown.
You've taken a big part of my heart
Because you were you.

The Farmer's Widow

This is another email joke that I just had to share with y'all.........


A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was a very good-looking woman and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.

Two cowboys applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk.

She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.

He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching.

For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well.

Then one day, the rancher's widow said to the hired hand, "You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels." The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.

One o'clock came, however, and he didn't return.

Two o'clock and no hired hand.

Finally he returned a round two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the rancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him.

She quietly called him over to her.

"Unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said.

Trembling, he did as she directed. "Now take off my boots."

He did as she asked, ever so slowly.. "Now take off my socks." He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.

"Now take off my skirt."

He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.

"Now take off my bra." Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.

Then she looked at him and said, "If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you're fired."

I've Got An Eye On Ewe

I had an eye, I did
It belonged to my favorite squid.
It would blink at the dawn
An shut tight during a yawn.
It's lashes were long
Blinking to life's song.

I lost an eye, I did
Along with my favorite squid.
I've looked in all it's favorite spots
Now I'm seeing dots.
The eye, the all knowing eye
Must've sprouted wings to fly.

Sounds Good To Me

From an email I just received, I'm not sure where it originated but you can bet it didn't come from Washington D.C.:

For too long we have been too complacent about the workings of Congress. Many citizens had no idea that members of Congress could retire with the same pay after only one term, that they didn't pay into Social Security, that they specifically exempted themselves from many of the laws they have passed while ordinary citizens must live under those laws. The latest is to exempt themselves from the Healthcare Reform that is being considered...in all of its forms. Somehow, that doesn't seem logical. We do not have an elite that is above the law. I truly don't care if they are Democrat, Republican, Independent or whatever. The self-serving must stop. This is a goodway to do that. It is an idea whose time has come.

Proposed 28th Amendment to the United States Constitution:

"Congress shall make no law that applies to the citizens of the United States that does not apply equally to the Senators and/or Representatives; and, Congress shall make no law that applies to the Senators and/or Representatives that does not apply equally to the citizens of the United States ".

I do believe they are suppose to serve us, not enslave us. All these recent earthquakes are the Founding Fathers turning over in their graves.

Patrick Henry – March 23, 1775

"The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, “Peace! Peace!” — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"

From Paul Johnson’s A History of the American People:

Then Henry got to his knees, in the posture of a manacled slave, intoning in a low but rising voice: ‘Is life so dear, our peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!’ He then bent to the earth with his hands still crossed, for a few seconds, and suddenly sprang to his feet, shouting, ‘Give me liberty!’ and flung wide his arms, paused, lowered his arms, clenched his right hand as if holding a dagger at his breast, and said in sepulchral tones: ‘Or give me death!’ He then beat his breast, with his hand holding the imaginary dagger.
There was silence, broken by a man listening at the open window, who shouted: “Let me be buried on this spot!‘

May we find someone whom will be so impassioned as to put love of country above love of political party. The majority of the signers of the Declaration Of Independence died broke of money, but rich in accomplishment. Seems today it's love of money, not "what you can do for this country."