Poetry
Corner . . .
HARLEY
REPLACEMENT THERAPY
Why do people ask if I'm having mid-life
craze?
No, no I have to answer,
It's memories of my motorcycle days.
I call it Harley replacement therapy,
Of days long past of youth
Of wind blowing through my hair,
Getting older is no proof.
I still have the urges,
Though a motorcycle not,
To feel the breeze and warm leather seat,
The summer sunshine hot.
The Harley stories won't replace
The memories in my heart
But a new convertible with the ragtop
down,
Is a dandy way to start.
The ride is a comfort, the seats a
good fit,
I don't have to straddle to climb aboard
it,
I can crank up the music, and buckle up
tight
I can fly through the breeze in the still
of the night.
7/3/02
THE
CHRISTMAS BEAR
The
black bear sat in the middle of the road
Sporting a big red bow tie.
He loudly growled as snowflakes fell 'round
And he waited for the car to pass by.
The bear had a message to pass on to Joe
Of blessings, good tidings and mistletoe,
Of love and compassion for all without fear,
Of thankful beginnings in the coming new year.
The bear spoke in a deep, growling voice,
Grumbling about the weather; having no choice
That hibernation was his plan of action,
God's Christmas message--a major distraction.
The bear and Joe talked, as the Lord intended,
Of Christmas tidings, all worries upended;
Cutting one's worries and grief half in two
Doubles one's blessings & love doubles, too.
Sharing your heart and soul with a friend
Will bring you joys and love to no end,
Even if the friend is a fat, black bear
With a funny bow tie and snow in his hair.
THE
CALL THAT NEVER CAME
She
sat by the phone, waiting for the call,
The
hot summer sunshine turning cool into Fall,
She
waited and rocked, her dreams dying down,
The
blustery snow out the doorstep fell round.
Young
woman with a broken heart,
Waited
for a call that never would come,
Her
love affair faltered, never to start,
Dreaming
and wondering, feelings depart.
Old
woman alone, waits by the door,
The
nursing home aide mops the dust from the floor.
The
old man never called, never came,
Alone
she will die, in pity and shame.
For
lost love empowered her to sit, wait and moan,
When
her spirit was broken by silence of a phone.
She
could have danced, she could have sung,
Yet
died with a broken heart, quietly alone.
10/25/01
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