Arbuthnot Poems | Examples

Sunday Dinner On the Farm

To the memory of my Great great great Grandmother Esther Louise Arbuthnot
SUNDAY DINNER ON THE FARM
Gramma's cookin now, so set a spell
and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best
before the settin sun, and who can tell
what's on her stove--but it will meet the test.

Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now?
And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot
for pourin on them taters--I allow
a little more than I should have--so what?!?

The butter it just melts on bread so light
to compliment the vegetables we grow,
now if you know a life that's half as right
as this, you'd better make it yours to know.

And I will say the grace, to thank God for
what He has give--so He will give us more.
© RON WILSON ARBUTHNOT 
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

To Love Too Late

TO LOVE TOO LATE
Some time ago, when I was hot and young
and thinking older than my meager years,
the know it all, on which my life was hung
and openly displayed to all my peers,

I played life's game, and made up my own rules,
to hold and kiss not meant to be devine,
I thought real love was only meant for fools,
the broken heart would be, but not be mine;

life was a party time, and I employed
each flaming kiss, each raping of the mind,
then tossed aside as something I enjoyed
not thinking there was something else to find;

I was the man; enjoying every quest
but when love came, I suffered my defeat,
I then grew younger than I'd ever guessed,
and loving soon became more than a beat;

now through the years, I look back, wondering,
where wisdom was, not reaching out for you,
well knowing this was love's great everything,
but reaching out was what I couldn't do.

© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Las Naves De Madera

LAS NAVES DE MEDERA (Wooden Ships)
They wanted ships. What they got
was wooden shells
not a farthing from the Crown
for these floating buckets.
Six thousand corks, hastily riveted 
into the keel planking, kept them afloat.
Nina. Santa Maria. Pinta.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained said Isabella.

Ah, muchacho, would she ever cash in.
The navigater shot the course
over the main, visions of tapestry and lace
and all sorts of spices in his head.
Gold? Well--Sí, oro. 
But he never dreamed.

The natives appeared naked and restless.
In scatted shades of blues and reds,
artists painted skirts on the girls,
long shirts on the old women,
loincloth on the men,
and a pearl studded gilded  robe on the king.
Which Chris promptly stole.
His mistake was trying to hide it
from Isabella.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Homecoming

THE HOMECOMING
Our need to fade, be yesterday
dry up and then just blow away,
'tis but to go where all belong
where life won't have the timing wrong.

our need to leave this world behind
to go someplace not there find
is just a part of what is not,
another road, alone has brought.

Beyond the trees, we bear the load
our need to find another road.
we disappear around the bend
discovering, there is no end.

© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

The Battle of South Chicago

THE BATTLE OF SOUTH CHICAGO
The freeze has brought them to a winter night
they've made themselves, forgetting what is right,
and though they see their children cry
there's not a one to reason why,
nor think upon, enough to see the light.

Add to this chaos, we have paved the way
for men of opportunity to play
and build their fortunes from it all,
while winter makes its morbid call,
and brings another dark and longest day.

There's no repent for killing as it's done,
and no resistance to it going on,
just hate on hate that only grows,
the hint of peace that never shows,
with lots of blame, enough for everyone.

Their truth is what a baby hears
but laid to rest in later years,
their war is not defined; it just goes on.

© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Venus Rising

VENUS RISING
On the levee, that warm summer day,
there you were, rising from the sea,
daughter of my night, and in your way,
the comforter of what a night can be.

My Venus rising, you, the light of God,
in streaks of light, through a summer rain,
I still recall, but still I think it odd,
I'd not seen you before, but would again.

In your eyes, where there's no end to see,
were secrets of the universe,
I'd never known, but then they came to me
as pools of words where-in I could immerse.

And in your voice, you sang for me the song,
that stays with me, my morning lullaby,
that only poets hear, and sing along,
and know dear Child of God, you'll never die.

Would that this summer rain to fall on me,
dispelling all the law concerning love,
and in your eyes, I'd forever be
the love your heart is dreaming of.
© Vee dosa aka on Wilson Arbuthnot

Kilmalkedar

CIL MAOLCHEADAIR   (Kilmalkedar)
On such an Irish spring and drizzle morn,
she wandered through the graveyard, looking for
the Celtic dream from which her past was born,
and every sight brought her to wanting more;

she dreamt her roots from carvings on a stone
as if she understood each chip as real,
passed down to only her, and her alone,
from pagan worship she could almost feel;

and she could bundle them within her mind
to share with Pennsylvania kith and kin,
perhaps the magic, if still there to find,
would be an understanding where they've been;

and she will burn her candles every night,
hoping Kilmalkedar will make it right.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Visit To Auschwitz

Visit To Auschwitz
I wish to hear the names long laid to rest
forgotten in their time, an empty prayer,
who wanted nothing more, through life's long quest
than just to know some good's alive somewhere;

their black and white of days, we'll never know,
wreak havok to the minds who hold back tears,
and though I hold them back, they have to flow
so they are not forgotten through the years.

I'd sing the children songs, if I could sing,
of life and love and better ways to be,
and if I thought my song would ever bring
one ray of hope, I'd sing til death of me!

But wordless are the songs, now echoing
from times when death was all a prayer could bring.
Aeiou.
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee bBdosa the Doylestown Poet

Ulysses - Awake

ULYSSES! AWAKE!
Are you not just as much an oar
as was the wind 
that fills misguided sails?

Your Ship! Your chart!
Your shooting of the stars!
Your warriors sick for home 
you've led them all astray, 
delivering to cyclops
and their play
and for the joy of sirens
undressed by moonlight
for the likes of you.
 
Sleep not dear boy.
You must not dream Penelope's untrue,
amidst her suitors with your aging dog.
Ulysses! wake! 
Your crew and ship await
and you must string the bow 
for old time's sake.
  © ron Wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Cross My Heart and Hope To Die

CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE
Black Lady, I have loved you,
all of my life, I've loved you,
some things won't change and they're what nobody sees.
I feel the wind, it's blowing,
where I am always going,
I'll be the sunlight flashing love through the trees.

Cross my heart and hope to die
I'd never mean to make you cry
Black Lady
I've loved you all of my life.

I hear the forest calling,
sweet summer rain is falling,
Black Lady there are no more things I should see,
life will go on to something,
though it has come to nothing,
all of my life I've reached for things that can't be.

Cross my heart and hope to die
I'd never mean to make you cry
Black Lady
I've loved you all of my life.

Some night when God is speaking,
I'll feel his love around me,
I'll end it all and I guess this is why;
reaching the highest pleasure;
living the great adventure;
all of my life, is invitation to die.

Cross my heart and hope to die
I'd never mean to make you cry
Black Lady
I've loved you all of my life.
      ©  ron wilson aka ron arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Turning It Loose

TURNING IT LOOSE
I'll tell you it's no simple thing,
this thing I have to say.
The time has come, so bear me out,
there is no other way.

I never thought I'd be someone
to hurt someone like you,
and if you take it all so hard,
I don't know what I'll do,

except to wish you better things,
as I want them for me,
you know you have a tender touch,
to those who look and see.

I know someone waits anxiously
in hopes you might like him.
I've seen you look at him that way;
his chances aren't so slim.

Now I am wanting someone else
who's sort of, like, your friend,
and waiting for the time to come
when you and I will end.

I've thought of these things for some time;
and now, what is the use,
in keeping on the way we are?
It's time to turn it loose.

© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Longhared Girl

LONGHAIRED GIRL
I'd like to take you. Stay with me,
and let me feel your flowing hair,
and look into your flashing eyes
to see if love just might be there;
to feel you pressing in the night
with no synthetics come between,
and labor in the heart of life
that makes our being clean.
My lady lying, just as I,
content, with dampened hair,
spreading, falling, pulling, we!
And joining wings, fly everywhere.
You! I! Go on silkened threads,
before a moment shoots away,
and chords that bind to other things,
intertwined, but not to stay,
And take me, you, my longhaired girl,
tomorrow will not know,
this little love we share tonight,
if you have to go.
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Hooter's Girls

HOOTERS GIRLS
Sherry I love the shine in your eyes
you're just the trimming for burgers and fries,
old men pretending not to watch you,
dreaming of things they shouldn't do.

I know Maria, your eyes are sad
I'm not the man who has hurt you so bad,
he bought a tee shirt from you one day
but then threw that tee shirt away.

Beautiful Angie, you could reach me,
but I'm pretending what I'll never be;
kings have sent armies marching to war
just thinking you're worth dying for.

Burgers and fries and watered down beer,
it's not the dining that's bringing us here,
it's just the company, when you smile,
that helps us pretend for a while.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestowqn Poet

Heaven For Me

HEAVENS TREASURES
When it's my time I welcome Heaven's call
as surely as I've lived the best I could
believing as I do, and that is all
that Jesus said, who'll make His promise good;

I can not hope that Heaven holds for me
some pearly gates, or streets paved out of gold,
I'd rather see some grass, far as I see
more than the best of things that kings could hold;

I'd rather see in Heaven--birds and bees,
more than the diamonds queens hold to their breast
some falling rain, and waterfalls and trees
more than the treasure in a pirates chest;

   and surely Heaven holds, what life should be
   the love of you, that warms the heart of me.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Second Coming

SECOND COMING
Yours in the blood that set us free
we come in honor as it be
to bind in love straight from the lovers soul
the one called Christ the thief has stole
and hoped that nevermore they'd see.

At mid of night when sings the song
about the right and of the wrong
we enter into dreams and through your breast
straight to your heart where life meets ev'ry test
and keeps you living faint and strong

and begs out for His loving hand
just as all time has ever planned
to Save each soul in Jesus for the day
His swift return will sweep us all away
where ev'ryone will understand.
 ron wilson arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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