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Poetry

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So you couldn't find me there. You may find me below.

Whispers

A whisper upon the wind,
A whisper so faint and thin,
Tells of things it has seen,
Whispering of times that have been.
It tears at the strongest of heart,
Watching two souls being torn apart,
By forces beyond their control,
Trying to separate their eternal soul.
But no power can part everlasting love,
For when time transcends the other above,
They shall once again be together,
Happily living in their love forever.
For my Amazing Nan and Pop

Shelter in Each Other

Bitter cold winter winds blow hard,
Across the harsh unforgiving plains.
A coldness to pierce the warmest heart,
Tormenting those caught up in it’s path.

Unable to see the forest through the trees,
A decade would pass before the fog could lift.
Like overlapping snakes entwined without contact,
Criss and cross their own paths would twist.

The heat moves in and out of mirages,
On the lonely empty desert sands.
The sun burns deep into uncovered flesh,
Tearing at their faces in their hands.

No matter how unpleasant the weather,
Henry and Lyn have found their shelter;
With each other, for each other,
More so, they found shelter in each other.

A Gathering of Kin

The Four came to the one,
The four whom he had sired.
For three timing was too late,
His life was all but expired.

In a room silent and bare,
He was alone no more.
Although body was never to respond,
His spirit lifted this I saw.

Like a gathering of kin,
Being with him to the end.
Not thinking of him as a father,
But comforting a long lost friend.

The Lone Wolf cries,
Out aloud in the night.
For it has lost a mate,
Stolen away on this silent night.

You walked from the hill,
Of the old rugged cross.
You did carry no burden,
For naught was lost.

Title to Song

Oh I do recall my first, real, memory,
At the age of three, what a man stood in front of me.
Three fingers on his left hand was all he had,
And it made me sad.
But it made me glad,
To shake his hand;
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what he said to me,
Beautiful memories of a child of three.

Out of the darkness comes, more, memories,
Through the house, out the back past the almond trees.
Three sheds stood like sentries, eyes had no tears,
Brewing beer and fishing gear,
Wood turnings there and here,
Then he took my hand;
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what he said to me,
Beautiful memories of a child of three.


As I travel through life’s, strange, mysteries,
The path I walk, is shaped by what was behind those trees.
The Man, the sheds, his beliefs, his abilities,
For there was no lock,
For which he had no keys.
I took his frail hand,
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what I said to him,
Beautiful memories of a man of twenty three.