Wish I'd Said That !

The man who views the world at fifty the same as he
did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.
-- Mohammad Ali

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Tonight your little cheek is wet with glistening baby tears,
And baby heartbreaks hurt as much as ours in later years . . .
But, oh! my sweet, tomorrow when you waken with the dawn,
You'll find that sorrow's sped away and baby woes are gone!
Yet I who watch above you in that alchemy of sleep,
Know a deeper bit of heartache, for . . . 'twas I who made you weep!
--
Rex E. Alford


THE BRIDGEBUILDER

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.

'Old man,' said a fellow pilgrim near,
'You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way;
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide --
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?'

The builder lifted his old gray head:
'Good friend, in the path I have come,' he said,
'There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pit-fall be,
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.'

-- Will Allen Dromgoole (1860-1934)



A COMPUTER POEM FOR THOSE OVER FORTY

A computer was something on TV
From a science fiction show of note.
A window was something you hated to clean,
And ram was the cousin of a goat

Meg was the name of my girlfriend.
A gig was a job for the nights.
Now they all mean different things,
And that really mega bytes.

An application was for employment.
A program was a TV show.
A cursor used profanity.
A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age.
A CD was a bank account.
And if you had a three-inch floppy,
You hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage,
Not something you did to a file.
And if you unzipped anything in public,
You'd be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire.
Hard drive was a long trip on the road.
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived.
And a backup happened to your commode.

Cut, you did with a pocket knife.
Paste, you did with glue.
A web was a spider's home.
And a virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash,
But when it happens they wish they were dead.

-- author unknown



THE FOG ROLLED IN

It's cold tonight, and you're not here
The fog came in, the sun disappeared
The woods are quiet, the trees are still
Guess I'll go inside, the time to kill

The day is done, my chores complete
I know I should find something to eat
But nothing tempts me, hot or cold
It's not food I need, it's you to hold

The miles are many from there to here
To where you are, so far yet near
I hear your voice in this silent room
Though I'm alone, the quiet booms

My memories and I have a life all our own
We brave the cold, the dark, the dawn
My eyes are closed, yet still they see
The days are empty without thee

Tonight just tea by the fire will do
Till morning comes and I hear from you!

 


Goodbye, sweet friend, yet how can I let go
Of my teacher, soul mate, idol and earthly guide
Though far apart, across the miles I'd follow
Now my pleas to you go unanswered, and I hide

I found you in the darkness, a kindred spirit
Holding the brightest candle I'd ever seen
We touched hands in that emptiness and through it
I gained the dearest pal I'd ever need

I know not what you looked like, nor do I want to
Your heart and words were all I needed to hold
A shape or form were all inconsequential
A bond like ours with words cannot be told

Your life with us was just a stop en route
You rested here for only a moment or two
But in those moments a treasure did you give out
Such lessons, priceless gifts, all parts of you

Though stripped now of my dearest warming sunlight
In the darkness I reach and find you every night

 


There was a time when you were all I wanted
I thought, somehow, you felt the same way too
I moved heaven and earth to be with you, undaunted
I said goodbye to everything I knew

In dreams I relived every sacred moment
Memories burned of all my days with you
Before the world, somehow, with raging foment
Decreed we'd spend our days apart and blue

You captured me with poems and smiles and laughter
Our eyes and hearts shared silent words as well
Though in error, I believed in ever after
Our duties would pass and together we would dwell

Now here I am, my suitcase filled with nothing
I will not be unpacking for this trip
There are many pilgrims on this Mecca journey
Your doors beckon all who'll kneel and dip

You love not one but many in your soft bed
And now my longings all have turned to dread

-- the webmaster

 

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought
and the thought has found words.

-- Robert Frost


BABY HANDS

Little dimpled baby hands grasp my finger tight
While mama rocks him, humming, deep into the night.
Those hands of his will grow all too soon for me, I know,
So mama rocks him, humming deep into the night.

Little dimpled baby hands exploring all they see,
While mama gently guides him, he is trying to run free.
Those hands of his are busy, grabbing all they reach,
So mama guides him gently, for it is my job to teach.

Bigger little boy hands, with dirt under his nails,
Bringing mama presents of flowers, frogs and snails.
Those hands of his, though dirty, are growing up so fast,
So mama treasures the gifts, and hopes these moments last.

Slender young man hands slam the bedroom door,
convinced his mama doesn't understand him anymore.
Those hands of his are nearly grown and eager to be free,
So mama hugs him anyway, my little man so much like me.

Strong grown man hands turn to wave good bye,
My baby boy is all grown up and mama wants to cry.
Those hands of his have things to do. He'll find his way I know,
So mama wipes the tears away, and lets her baby go.

Little dimpled baby hands, grasp his finger tight,
While daddy rocks him, humming, deep into the night.
Those little hands he holds will grow all too soon for him he knows,
So daddy rocks him, humming, deep into the night.

-- Submitted by Sonny Falck from Arlington, TX
e-mail: Sonny321@hotmail.com



THANK YOU

I wanted to thank you
for the things you have done,
for being my guardian angel
when I felt I had none.

I wanted to thank you
for the love you have shown,
for your warmth and affection
when I thought I was alone.

I wanted to thank you
for your gestures and words;
you gave me strength when I was in need
and helped me trust in my own creed.

I wanted to thank you
for being there through thick and thin,
if not in body, in soul
and always believing that I could win.

I wanted to thank you
for who you are,
for your strength and courage,
for always shining like the brightest star.

And the only way I can thank you
and show you how I feel
is to utter these words
which are written in steel:

It's so peaceful to be loved for who I have become
than to be resented for the things I have not done.

-- Samantha Birkett from London, England



On the plains of hesitation
Bleach the bones of countless millions
Who at the dawn of victory stopped to wait,
And waiting, died.

-- A favorite of E. E. Nichols, author unknown



LOST LOVE

Who wins his love shall lose her,
Who loses her shall gain,
For still the spirit woes her,
A soul without a stain;
And Memory still pursues her
With longings not in vain!

He loses her who gains her,
Who watches day by day
The dust of time that stains her,
The griefs that leave her gray,
The flesh that yet enchains her
Whose grace hath passed away!

O, happier he who gains not
The Love some seem to gain;
The joy that custom stains not
Shall still with him remain,
The loveliness that wanes not
The Love that ne'er can wane.

In dreams she grows not older
The lands of Dream among.
Though all the world wax colder,
Though all the songs be sung.
In dreams doth he behold her
Still fair and kind and young.

-- Andrew Lang
(from the favorites of E. E. Nichols)

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