Inspirational black to begin it all,
The grinding press is the first call.
A bitter kiss playing the ecstatic spark,
That cues the head to make it’s mark.
What did we ever do before sickened love?
Was it brought from heaven’s cruel shove?
Category: Poetry
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The Cowboy and the Chief
The cowboy walked through the dusty old town,
Looking for ladies, gold, luck, and renown.
Dreadful bandits stopped and shot their loud guns,
Making way with stolen loot from bank runs.
A dusty standoff was had at high noon,
Our cowboy hero shot and killed a goon.
He stepped by, the sheriff was not impressed,
He was on the run away from arrest.
In the dry desert, he camped for the night,
Sounds of the Indians gave him a fright.
An old chief approached, hatchet in hand,
And sat beside the cowboy in the sand.
“Welcome,” he said in a deep and warm voice,
“I see that you haven’t come here by choice.”
The cowboy looked up surprised at the tone,
Kindness was not expected to be shown.
“Now come with me,” the chief said with a smile,
“You won’t be restricted a single mile.”
They stood and they walked under the full moon,
The night was now light, and they sang a tune.
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A Selfish Man
A short one that I wrote last summer.
There are so many years I needed it to be mine
A selfish man that constantly worried about the time
I can sit back understanding presence is just fine
As I sit on a terrace and play with words and rhyme
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Reflection’s Confetti
A quick one on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year!
No concern
No fretCan’t discern
Who metStepping on
Down throughTunnel gone
Journey trueLove had
Opportunity lostStrangely glad
Thawed frostOpen sky
Mile high