The words were really flowing here. I wrote this several years ago.
The Truth:
Wild and free you set me free,
To show me the path to eternity!
Now you cast me out,
Yet you call me a layabout,
I show you the truth,
And you say I’m uncouth,
Yet I am the truth!
Yet again, from several years ago. At the time this was written, I think I was reading one of my many fantasy books, and I think I got the inspiration for this poem from that fantasy book. Unfortunately I don’t remember what the book was called.
Gold Star Shard:
Star,
Shard,
Star shard,
Gold star shard,
Sword flashes in light with gold star shard.
Another poem from several years ago when my creativity in poetry was very evident.
Gotta:
Gotta go,
Gotta jet,
Gotta blaze,
Gotta run,
Gotta blaze the fire,
Gotta make me see,
Gotta set me free to be me!
This was written several years ago, when I went on a spree of writing poetry. Who knows how I came up with it.
I Am Fire:
Fire roar,
Fire crackle,
Fire show me your amber light,
Fire hold me—warm me,
Fire love me,
I am fire.
This was written back in 2005, on another poetry-writing spree. A really strange poem.
The Senses of Me:
I see you,
Formless shape that you are,
I hear you,
Static and unclear sound that you are,
I feel you,
The roughness that you are,
I sense you,
Your presence is near me and yet so far from me—your distance from me is indeterminate,
I touch you,
A fire burns within you—yet an iciness coats your outside—you are hot, yet cold to the touch,
I smell you,
You are the smell of burning wood, and yet not that smell—you have your own type of smell—that of fire,
You are a rough formless shape that contains fire inside you,
Yet you coat yourself in ice,
Your presence is undetermined,
You smell of fire,
And you make a staticky and unclear sound to me,
Who are you?
I know you not,
But my senses know you.
This is a poem I wrote back in 2006, after my grandmother, “Gram”, died. I read it at her memorial service. She broke her hip one afternoon, and while in the hospital, it got infected, and she passed away.
Watching Over Me: To Gram:
You’re watching over me from up in heaven,
Which I hear they call God’s kingdom,
I’m always wondering what it’s like up there,
Now more than ever—they say it’s beautiful…..
This heaven I’d like to know what you think, Gram,
I hope you’re happy with your new job of watching over me—it’s a big task,
It’s not for the faint at heart,
But then you never were faint at heart,
You were feisty,
And we always knew you were hanging on,
If you could ask questions of the doctor,
I still expect you to come toddling over to our house with the mail or something,
Stay happy, watch over me, and I love you, Gram.
This is a poem that I wrote back in July 2015, about my grandfather, Jeepy, after he died. I read it at his memorial service. His caretaker woke me up that morning telling me he had died in his sleep and I needed to get across the street because I had to sign some papers that the cops had since he was on medications for his Parkinson’s and the cops wanted to make sure he didn’t get an overdose. My parents were on a trip west and couldn’t be reached at the time to let them know he had passed. They were out of cell range. (My grandmother couldn’t sign them because she has Alzheimer’s). So I signed them. My world went crashing down around me that morning.
Memories- To Jeepy:
You were known to your grandkids as “Jeepy” because of the letters g.p., since you didn’t want to be called grandpa,
You built playgrounds of cement blocks, bricks, and wood,
You played horsey with us,
You got fed raisins and played with us in our kiddie pool,
You were a grandfather who love to play with his grandkids,
We worked crossword puzzles and jigsaw puzzles with you,
Funny pictures of us in your clothes were taken with you,
You drew pictures with us and let us sit on your shoulders,
You were the best grandfather any grandkid could ask for,
And you will always be remembered,
And you will always be missed.
I love you, Jeepy.
The picture on the left is of my grandfather, Jeepy, as he was known to his grandkids making a playground for me and my sister, who is “helping” him. And that’s our dog Kia in the background.
On the right is a picture of me with my grandfather riding on his shoulders, which I remember doing a lot when I was that age.
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