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Herman Hoffman Poem
Forlorn and lost, without a home
He wandered on the street
His hair knew neither comb nor brush
No shoes encased his feet
His hunger told him he must eat
Though food was hard to fing
Then, in the park, a crumpled bag
Someone had left behind
Some 'burger scraps, a few cold 'fries
It seemed like just the thing
A drink of water from the lake
Made him feel like a king
He took a nap, but soon awoke
A storm was breaking o'er
He saw the light'ning's fearsome flash
Heard thunder's mighty roar
He finally found shelter
In a closed-up storefront's door
Exhausted, shiv'ring, wet and cold
He sank down on the floor
Just then, a voice compassionate
Said softly "You poor guy
You shouldn't be out in this storm
No need to ask you why"
She took him home, and warmed him up
She saw that he was fed
And then, when all te house was quiet
She took him to her bed
As he lay there besideher
He thought "Life's not all bad
This surely is the greatest girl
A puppy ever had"
Copyright © Herman Hoffman | Year Posted 2011
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Herman Hoffman Poem
Oft'times I see my friends all 'round
Lke leaves of Autumn, floating down
And softly drifting, side-to-side
A passive dance, on zephryn tide
Then when the ground is covered o'er
A million leaves! A billion! More!
Each leaf contributes its full size
Then, on a stormy gust, they rise
'Til once again back to the groung
With only a faint rustling sound
They cover Earth like coats of paint
And never from them one complaint
For leaves, it seems, were bor to fall
In answer to their maker's call
So, after their day in the sun
They pay the piper, ev'ry one
God's peple, too, could learn fom them
We hang by life=thread, very slim
We live our lives as we see fit
While kowng there's an end to it
That thresd will tretc, but one day break
Then ev'ry triumph ad mistake
Will only be a memory
That's shared by friends and family
Our mem'ries are like building stones
That shield us from the tears and groans
A pebble here, a bolder there
The joys we could together share
Wallsgrow thick, and shields grow strong
A love, and lift, and help along
Each one who shares this life with us
The ones wo give to us their trust
And as we journey toward our home
It's never good to be alone
That thread may break at any time
And end our Earthly pantomime
Life's Earthly gain (and this we know)
Will wash away in time's great flow
Just gifts we've made and good we've done
Will keep our mem'ries in the sun
To shied our loved ones from the storm
Reflect sunshine to keep them warm
'Til each must turn the river's bend
We never know just how or when
So nw, dear friends, my point of view
Theere's just one thing for us to do
Please build a shield for me, will you?
I'll build, the best I can, for you
Walls grow thick
Copyright © Herman Hoffman | Year Posted 2011
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Herman Hoffman Poem
There once was an old lady
A cautious one was she
But she still drove her motor-car
At the age of one-oh-three
She was feared, and yes, respected
On every county road
'Cause she drove down the center-line
And in "white-knuckle" mode
And if you were behind her
You were certain to be late
Because she always raced along
At the speed of twenty-eight
All up and own our county roads
Where forty is the norm
She steadfastly maintained twenty-eight
Past forest, field, and farm
Well, then, one day it happened
I won't forget the day
She drove into a wagon
Piled high with bales of hay
The wagon slid across the road
Cut down a 'lectric pole
The sparking set the hay on fire
Her car did one full roll
She wasn't realy injured,
But quite irate, they say
The wagon she rear-ended
Was in her right of way!
Insurance settled out of court
Details were never heard
The farmer simply grins and says
"The figure was absurd"
No longer does he transport hay
Or even grow the stuff
His cattle-barn sits idle nnow
'Cause he has cash enough
Oh, he still plants a garden
For just himself and wife
Fresh veggies do taste better
As they ease their way though life
The lady's in an old-folks home
Down by the Middle Creek
I think she's doing very well
Her birthday was last week
Her party made the T.V. News
She's reached a hundred-five
She'll probably live a few more years
'Cause now she does not drive!
Copyright © Herman Hoffman | Year Posted 2011
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Herman Hoffman Poem
I take Mr. Webster's pages
Season rather well
Toss t4hem in a noisy blender
Stir them up pell-mell
If you find therein some meaning
I am doing well
'Cause I am just a used-words merchant
I've nothing else to sell
So here I am, past seventy
A prattling, wordy fool
My friends all say, and I agree
I should go back to school
I can learn from textbooks proper ways
The way to do it right
And scribble pretty words of love
That blossoms in the night
But what does this boy know of love?
I've only loved one girl
Since back when I was seventeen
And I had hair, with curls
Society says love comes and goes
And girls move in and out
But I don't understand their way
Or what it's all about
So I'll just keep my long-time girl
Who wears my wedding ring
There is no Jeezebel in her
She treats me like a king
So i can never write of love
As forlorn tragedy
I can only write of love
AsI found it to be
Copyright © Herman Hoffman | Year Posted 2011
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