Eating Clams

Eating Clams Should I go to my grave doing latest rave? Or be a nice guy and myself do behave And if writing poems is what it will be They will be given to Poetry Soup for free. Recently, returned to some of my old haunts Which were made before the renaissance Period of time when everything was changing Reformation occurred and minds were re-arranging. I always would know from the very start Even though we may be many miles apart There would be something about my writing style Challenging you and putting your mind on trial. On other side of hill grass often was greener And could find me with all of my great demeanor A poem desperately trying to write each day Will send you to see what you have to say. If you were one who called me a so and so And my poems on you never started to grow How was I to know that much later in life I still would be married to my beautiful wife. Next door neighbors both had hardly waited Then together our anniversary celebrated Read my poem drinking beer out of a cup They calmly listened but kept clamming up. Clams were of various sizes and steamed while others were baked and cooked. Next thing will be Clam Linguini. Wow!!! James Thomas Horn Retired Veteran