Best Times Poems
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Like kin folk come to stay
A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids
That always get ‘n your way.
It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought,
There ain't much in-between.
You work like hell to make ’em good,
But still they’re sorta lean.
The ranch went under late last year,
The drought got mighty tough.
The boss held-out a long, long time,
But finally said, "enough!"
So here I am dispatchin’ cops
An’ watchin’ felons sleep,
In Junction, at the county jail,
A job I’ll prob’ly keep.
The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge,
Where older people stay,
A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors
To earn some ‘extra’ pay.
Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used,
It goes to payin’ rent,
An’ after all the bills are paid,
We wonder where it went.
We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps,
An' then our weddin' rings;
Then when we couldn't pay the loan,
They sold the 'dad-blamed' things.
We felt real bad a day or two
But then we let it go,
Cause it got Christmas for the kids
When money got real slow.
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Don't matter who you are;
They'll cost ya things you've set aside,
An' clean your cookie jar.
You'll loose some sleep an' worry some,
Won't pay to moan an' groan;
But hang on to your happiness,
They'll finally leave ya 'lone.
As the gold leaves on the ginkgo fall,
Upon the cold autumn earth.
I think how the winter winds
Sound, as they whip as if in mirth.
Winter is upon us, cold lies ahead.
Can we bear the storms of aging?
I can't help but those dread.
Sometimes I feel like raging.
Dear Lord Jesus, give me strength,
To face and handle each day given.
Help me be the kind of person,
That will be delighted in heaven.
Not just for the reward of gold streets
Nor of the river that flows
And, oh! that tree of life
Food for the body and soul
For the reward of meeting Jesus
And see those Christians gone before.
The awesome sound of the heavenly choir
As they sing original lines, set to a new score.
Oh!! To have love in my heart
A kind of love I have never known before.
To feel a part of a group of people,
Whose love does not keep score.
Upon my tiptoes, I gaze through a window, the window of my mind.
I pull back the curtain, peer from a partially drawn blind.
Before me lay this youthful beauty, perfection in every line,
And standing there beside her was the old keeper of all time.
He swiftly knelt beside her, and stroked her heaving chest,
Carefully caressed every curve, and sagged her gentle breast.
He cast his spell upon her, aging her as if fine wine.
Left some thoughtful wrinkles, added character in each and every line.
Bestowed upon her all that wisdom, more than she had ever known before.
Brought her many pleasures, also heartaches, several score.
Held her tightly about the waist, now broader at the beam.
Added some weight here and there, not as much as it might seem.
He gradually drooped her shoulders; shiny hair now turns to gray.
Faded memories of life's passing parade now help to pass her day.
Her youthful pace is throttle now, her feet shuffle slowly across the floor.
Though still a thing of beauty, that beauty is different than before.
Time for her is now slipping away, slowly heading for life’s stage door.
The journey has left her exhausted, no longer willing to fight the fight, but unwilling to beg for more.
Time had been an exciting lover, but she will not love another day.
She lies prone upon the sheet as Time exits the stage. I watch with amazement as the scene just fades away.
No script
belonging one’s civilization
no history
anyone can recall,
only the enduring solid stone blocks
someone created to form this ancient wall.
A relic unknowingly
left to the woodland undergrowth
and those
that measure nature’s time.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Try
New things
Carry on
With good old things
Believe in yourself
Trust your inner soul
All that you have overcome
Faith in the strength you are given
The light after every dark storm
You know best for yourself in all of times
Heidi Sands
10/4/21
You say: Wrong place—wrong time,
Maybe: Wrong place—not right time,
Not right place—but wrong time?
I say: This's right place—right time,
In times and places,
What is the time?
Where is the place
For right not wrong?
Is this like signs
Tearing up the scenery;
What about my mind?
Don't what? I can read the sign!
Oh—Signs of the time?
What’s wrong is not right,
Lord, I will sing this song!
Fight for what’s right
Correct what's wrong!
In all times and places
Oh, salvation!
Please, be alright,
And make it—
On time!
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 109/11/08
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Satellites in space keeping an eye on the human race
Independence in place a parental pacified pallid pace
Gods of war prepare for their cadaverous command
Narcissistic lair in control of the deceptively damned
Obedient in oblivion MK ultra has barbarously begun
Facing fallacious delirium bullets bleed of killing done
Tyrants of time tenacious terminators of our humanity
Hellions in prime pandemic behind a venomous vanity
Evaporating echoes of morality ephemeral of the state
Thespian theological amnesty thermostats that negate
Idols of invasion indestructible in their satanic structure
Mellifluous minds into evasion ready to rapidly rupture
Escaping evil entities of illusion diner drugs of the day
Seduced by enemies of confusion that are here to stay.
April.23.2018
Sign of the times
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
...my thoughts and prayers go out to all the victims, family and friends…of the horrific Toronto truck massacre chain of events that happened April.23.2018… to the Toronto Police, first responders, and pedestrians who had to witness this great tragedy…for these are truly sign of the times…
How many times can you express friendship and support
Only to realize these feelings will never be returned
How many times can you fool yourself
Saying, "This is okay; nothing was promised"
How many times can you pick yourself up
Pretend it doesn't hurt; act like all is fine
How many times do you have to swallow your pride
After giving all you had to offer
How many times will you go through charades
When there is no hope to build upon
How many times can you knock yourself out
Hoping your futile efforts will be appreciated
How many times will you have to learn lessons the hard way
Without losing the happy spirit that has carried you through trying times
How many times can you feel like you still have self worth
When these false feelings are always proven wrong
Is this all there is to life
Then send in the clowns; I should be part of their act
When Love comes pounding on a drum,
it comes on strong and fast and hard
until two hearts in synch beat passion's song.
Sometimes love comes clanging down the tracks.
It clashes or it clamors to be heard,
so at its crossing, meaning is obscured.
Other times, love lurks or it attacks.
Unrequited, love can pierce or burn
until its ventricle turns deathly black.
And then are times love gently climbs
or eases sure-footed to one's door
or sweetly seeps and saturates the soul.
It's strong and yet it's soft.
It doesn't sting or snip. It listens
and reverberates the whispers of the heart.
Oct. 10, 2016
A movie, oh wow, when one need not be Woke!
A girl was a girl, a bloke was a bloke.
I forget I was born when times were free.
Not under pressure of societal perversity.
We had jobs, were not weird and went to school.
We had nothing free, we were not governments’
tools.
Remember when schools were open and all stores, too.
We were not Covid,freaked-out-masked fools?
Nor were our teachers the government’s tools!
Our parents taught us ethics and rules!
We did not live on cold social platforms.
We lived and loved in freedom, that was the norm!
One could tell clearly, who was a girl or boy.
There were no “man- buns”,a welcomed joy!
Hope America returns to that sense of joy.
When it’s acceptable to be the sex you were born,
either girl or boy!
Notes: Ideas from the movie.
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High”, 1982
Sean Penn, Phoebe Cates, Jennifer Jason
Leigh.
The asphalt driveway is blackened over by rain
sand bags lie in the corner of the garage in case water creeps in, some sheep scurry in distant fields
Your elephant eyes are locked on the TV; 55 inches of electronic love
I liked lying under the moonlight on summer nights as moths danced towards the patio light I remind myself in melancholy moods, child please don’t cry, every season changes
Your vehicle’s mileage spans out to El Dorado’s grave and back
The snares of your life keep drumming it’s slower now, consistent patters; the TV is staring back at you copper pennies lie in wait beside your remote control, everything has a place with you
If I could tie a rope around your Will I would direct it towards my family, we are hopeful you will see us, and remember tossing your children in the air, serving crepes every Christmas morning and the brick house you lived in with your wife for more than two decades, a pool of tumbling memories without all the injures, it is ok to feel free, to be a part of a living zoo
thunder rumbles past our yellow one-story apartment, somewhere swans sleep unaware of rain
swaying slowly when you stand, I’m starting to realize God balances us all out
cement like air fills my lungs as the newscaster gets soaked by yet another wave
staring blankly, you blink at the angel food cake on the counter and shuffle on, towards the Rio Grande
bones of drowned years clamber past Nevada, Arizona, all the tumble weed states
falling forward we catch ourselves each day, we shade our eyes from the glaring sun, as the dust gathers below the Grand Canyon
you shuffle in and switch the channel, the trumpets settle in my heart as you ask, how did it go today?
*Note: my first line is inspired by a line taken from Eve Roper's poem 'What the eye sees the heart cannot forget".
*'My heart still feels those times spent in the warmth'
of his embrace! Although so long ago,
those were the times I touched all of my dreams.
How sad it is to know I let them go!
His eyes were chocolate, and so much warmth
exuded from his sweet eyes I would melt
each time his gaze met mine; a butterfly
of summer’s splendid days is how I felt!
And when his mouth met mine there was that spark -
a soul connection we could never feign.
Warm days turned into nights of passion’s heat -
such nights like that I’ll never know again.
His warm embrace; his gaze; his honeyed lips!
What joy in youth’s swift passing had been mine.
Those times of summer sunshine had no rain.
Hearts don’t forget those times that were divine!
April 9, 2020
for Silent One's Poetic Lines From A Poetry Soup Poet - Eve Roper Poetry Contest
I aint got no money and I'm goin' down fast
My heads in the toilet and my life's in the trash
I wish I had a penny for every bad thought
I wish I could steal without gettin' caught
Wanna be able to buy my own smokes
I'm tired of "shorts" and two hit tokes
Don't wanna be a rich man don't wanna be a star
Don't need my own plane just wanna have a car
The beat goes on but the beat don't pay
I'm cryin' all night I'm tryin' all day
I dream and I wish I kneel and I pray
I know I gotta reason
Just gotta find a way
Joe Lunchbucket stands on the bread line
The plant closure left him not one dime
So handouts he seeks
Like dogs beg for treats
As senators toast to the good times
Entry for Deborah Guzzi's limerick contest
Old dust by rusty memories
One time lace curtains in the windows
Fascinating account by a challenging life
Happiness and defeats, sunny days and freezing nights
More than an adventure; for better or worse
An image that evokes old childhood memories for many
"The happy 50s" an expression of relief that the war was over
An aura by joy and optimism ... the future
19.11.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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