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Mark Goodson Poem
My hair has receded and my belly grown fat
There’s hair growing in my ears and I don’t like that
My joints ache all the day and I have troubles with peeing
I’m tired all the time and have glasses for seeing
Gravity has taken over putting life in a downward spin
No wonder I enjoy drinking a little wine and gin
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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Mark Goodson Poem
Impressionable young hearts do tell the grandest lies
When learned from grandfathers with sparkling eyes
Grandfathers living renewed through the breath of a grandchild
Oh grandfathers’ whoppers told in all kindness and glory
The bigger the whopper makes the child’s lies the cute little story
Thus the grandchild’s faith breeching walls of reasonable reality
Simply because beloved grandfather had told the story
My grandfather said it was so- tiny voice of pledged belief
And I believe him -for grandfather would never lie to me
So sleep little one- dream the telling’s of funny grandfathers beloved
For their little lies to you are meant to not make you a worried
But make you believe in the impossibilities of grandeur and extravagance
There is a Santa Clause
The fish really was so big it couldn’t fit in the boat
I wrestled a grizzly when I was just about your age
For in the telling of such blessed little lies
A remembrance of grandfather will never die
The wisdom and laughter thus remembered in each time’s telling
Will warm you over and over- as little lies do you begin the telling
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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Mark Goodson Poem
Hope
I care not for the odds
Spoken by sooth sayer voices
They are blinded by statistics
For a seemingly sure concept
Though a bleakness dampens
Every fainting ray of light
There exist an unexplainable God
Characteristic of sensitivity
Endowed to man by birthright
To no other creature but he
In my bleakest hour
I dare not say
I do not believe
What I search for is an impossible concern
A thing so obscured
There seemingly just isn't a way
I trust not in mortal man
He does not grok the serverity of his own plight
For God my Father has just the plan
My wants are as heavy on my heart
As a weight to a drowning man
I can not save nor free a single sinner man
To heal the unhealable
Lame to walk again
To save the dieing
Breath to life again
I view both the rising and setting of sun
I walk in a light not viewed by temporal man
The wretchedness of worldly life
As I seek to do what is right
Infringed by fear of plotted death
What so ever to be my plight
Hope sustains when all reasonable efforts are tested
Hope- the belief in worldly impossibilities
Hope -the sweetest of God given characteristics
Hope -the strength to endure the unimaginable
Hope -the force of movement to that which would make still
Hope -the song for the heart when all instruments fail
Hope -the submission to death for there is life yet awaiting
Hope –the gift from God for our rejoicing
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Goodson Poem
For these which stand before you good parents and friends
Are embellished with all your dreams for futures to come
Dressed in alma mater robe, mortar hat and tassel now adorned
You have gathered as witness for this day of a dozen years longed
It is your hearts -with pride- as you watch and listen with both a smile and tear
For that so cherished name upon your lips anticipating
Awaiting the bursting applause with in your hearts
Viewing now the man whom you once held in your arms
As your graduate smiles and takes his just earned reward
Hail to thee- our alma mater- do the graduates stand and sing
Hail to thee – may we always remember the cost of this liberty
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2014
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Mark Goodson Poem
With soap in hand placed in my mouth
Head hangs over toliet tongue heads south
Dirty words no more
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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Mark Goodson Poem
My mother’s brother lies in a grave in Normandy
If he had lived I would have known him as Uncle Stanley
I recall his oval framed picture hanging on Grandma’s wall
Uncle Stanley so youthfully dressed in army attire proud and tall
Stanley’s eyes seem the same as my Uncle Jimmy’s to me
I always imagined Stanley’s voice whenever Uncle Jimmy was with me you see
Most all the men of my mother’s family
Served in their country’s greatest hour of need proudly
My Uncle Jack became a prisoner of war while fighting in Europe
All through my life only once did I ever hear him tell the others of it
Uncle Leonard flew across the English Channel in a flying fortress
I remember him crying when he told my father about this
Uncle J.T. was wounded somewhere in the country of France
I recall him using a cane and joking about never being able to dance
Uncle Ted entered the Great War two years late
He worked in supply – far from the front lines of deadly hate
Uncle Lloyd who is the only brother left alive to this day
Will serve his country yet again on this Memorial Day
As always he will proudly adorn his Marine dress blue on Monday
To lead the city’s festive military parade
I will hoist my country’s flag in my front yard
Sing our National Anthem loudly and hard
I have been so blessed by my mother’s brothers who did so give sacrifice
That I this day am afforded such a rich and wonderful life
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2014
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Mark Goodson Poem
Tis a lovely day for students are glad
The last day of the school year is anything but sad
No more assignments to study nor papers to write
Students can deal with William Shakespeare at next year’s fight
Textbooks have been returned and stored away
Lockers are cleaned out with nothing to stay
The students rejoice with the last bell’s ringing
But the teachers are doing a happy dance
And tis they who are doing all the singing!!
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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Mark Goodson Poem
The blue ball bounced against the rubber baby buggy bumper.
Bobby Brown’s bright blue blazer matched Betty’s blue bloomers.
Baseball is business blessed beyond belief.
Brook’s brother boiled beetle bugs for breakfast.
The bow of the boat blocked the big barge.
Bill’s barrel belly button bares birthday bacteria.
Baboons beam beautiful ballads for bitter berry bush butter.
Bonnie’s buttons battle the bulge.
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
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Mark Goodson Poem
Children raised with discipline
Parents spanked and praised
Summa Cum Laude
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2013
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Mark Goodson Poem
The student sits in third row last chair
His foolish words of attention are blurted everywhere
He understands not the value of listening
For he seeks laughs and howls for the teacher’s off>< pissing
Until finally the day of teacher student conflict
The teacher enquires of the student’s gimmicks
Young man confronting the joker for all to hear
Your gall for the learned compliance suitable for classroom learning
Indicates your true ability of one of extremely asinine qualities
I must admit as all the students are listening here
You are the greatest highly intelligent gluteus Maximus I ever did hear
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2014
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