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Barry Weatherford Poem
How many times does it take before you come to your senses?
Before you actually see what the real problem is.
And if you understand,
Will that be the problem at hand?
Will this thought just be another?
To throw you asunder.
If it is not this time, how long will take,
Will you find the answer to the pattern that you must break?
Maybe in just a moment, or maybe in a year,
Or could it be, because of the fear,
That you will never,
Locate the answer,
I have warned you, do not take long.
To associate in the happiness that comes along,
The time it takes maybe short or it could be gone.
How many times will it take before you come to your senses?
Before you actually see what the real problem is.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
Do you hear those waves crashing on the shore?
You might say someone was slamming at your door.
Oh, what I would give to ride those waves so high,
And never again to the shore draw nigh.
I would give money or even fame,
For a chance of those waves to tame.
I hear them crashing on the shore,
And it is those waves that I long for.
Soon that day will come when I will try my best,
To lie in the trough and rise with the crest.
When that crest pushes into the sky,
I will most nearly be able to fly.
I will ride the waves out to sea
The shore, I will no longer see.
I will whip the tide with my hands,
And from great distances see many lands.
For in the oceans I will stay,
Until I am called home for aye.
Yes, I would rather live and die in those waters of the world,
Than to spend another second on dry soil.
I would ask you to go with me on my quest among the fishes,
However, I am sure you are too young and have had better wishes.
Therefore, the old man left on that mornings tide,
Whipping that water as if it were his child’s own hide.
The old man left never to return,
As he reached the horizon he gave the water one last churn.
Up he flew with the greatest of ease,
Then down he floated like a cool summer breeze.
That was the last I ever saw of the old man,
Nevertheless, as I grow older I am beginning to understand.
His thoughts were pure and true at heart I know.
It was his destiny to the sea he must go.
I sometimes wonder where the old man could be,
But I do not worry for it is not in the sea.
No my friends, he was called home long ago.
For it is with Jesus that he does now stroll.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
Once, on a night so dark that even the owl could not see,
There came to be,
An evil entity.
It was so evil in fact,
That not even the night could hold it back.
The night tried and tried it did,
But entrance to the land was finally bid.
So evil romped and stomped across the place,
And it would not be erased.
The people fought and battled,
But it continued to eat the cattle.
It consumed the stock and the place,
The people had not the time to pace.
Now the evils belly was filled,
And the valley of Hallowed Een was tilled.
This is the story we all celebrate,
On October 31, when open is the gate.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
Love rises, tears fall,
One of Gods children has heeded his call.
A life of love and pain he leaves,
Gaining love abundant, brushes the pain from his sleeves.
Now he watches from above with the laugh that we all knew,
the same one that was set in our memories as we all grew.
A pole-vaulting accident could have left him sterile,
However, those long legs kept everything out of peril.
Plentiful love he showed us all here on earth,
A love we recognized even at birth.
Husband, Father, Grand Father, Great Grand Father, we miss you dearly,
You and your example will be in our thoughts constant not just yearly.
In Gratitude, honor, and humility I salute him for his service,
Not to the country, but for his family did he sacrifice.
We now carry on with your memory,
And I pray that we don’t forget our history.
So, we will wave and blow a kiss goodbye,
Until that day that the Lord brings us again nigh.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
I was here, I worked, and I played,
ECM was my trade.
In the flight of specialists I spent my time,
Five years in this place is what gives me this rhyme.
Have been deployed, have been TDY,
Now is my time to say good bye.
My fondness of the souls that I leave behind,
The good times and the bad come to mind.
I wish the best to one and all,
Even to Tucker since he’s so short and small.
Yes, I hope the grandest for whatever may come about,
And might even miss Buzz turning loose a scream or a shout.
As I go I just want to say,
To the good Lord above I pray,
For every one of you each and every day.
Have fun and work hard as I know you all will,
Just remember you’ve got a friend in Arkansas up on the hill.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
What do you do?
When you can not find your shoe,
What do you do?
When the last chance you had, you just blew.
Why do we ask the questions that there are no answers to?
Why try, lie, and then as we fry in other peoples eyes we promise to sue.
It is a towering terrific trouble that we go to, to keep secrets from others.
Blabbering bumbling bouncing from story to story, to hear the thoughts of our
mothers.
If and only if they could see us in our drunken stupor, falling,
Leaving it once again to them, as we would lay our heads on their shoulder
bawling.
For them their child with love yet know that we are wrong,
I would go as far to say that to soothe us they would sing a song.
Laughing, lacking, lurching, forward we will go without a light,
Leaving what we knew, in the darkness we will fight.
What do you do?
When you can’t find the light?
What do you do?
When you can’t use your sight?
Pray!!
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
As the winds carry across the fields and over the plains,
I can hear the laughter and the pains.
The sorrow of hearts and the joy of a newborn’s smile,
The wind brings to my ears those words so defiled.
Words of hate and words of anger,
That the people of the world have for one another.
But to my surprise, in the distance a giggle, a tickle, a laugh, a grin,
Oh, can it be, that once again,
Love has rallied,
From every hill and valley.
To once more keep that desolate wind from gliding atop another shore,
And straight to you, knocking, rapping, tapping, at your door.
No, this is something that you cannot ignore,
Will you have the love and integrity to embrace what you need to admit?
To withstand the gale force winds and the subtle breezes and not to submit.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
When you are standing there so cold and lonely do not fret
For there are yet...,
Times to come.
Ones that could raise your spirits high,
And some that will break you at the toe.
So,You should know,
There is only one way to go,
when you are standing there on the bare bottom,
Just remember that you came from the top,
And when think you cannot drop...,
Anymore,
There is a door,
The portal of faith and friendship.
If you have faith in the Lord to allow him to lift you out of your hardship
and the ability to befriend anyone along the corridor of despair,
Then maybe there is a way out by baring those burdens and to share,
on his wings to rise to the top once more.
yet again clinging to those that you adore.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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Barry Weatherford Poem
How I wonder about all these things sometimes,
About this, about that, and those little rhymes.
Why men fight, only to die,
Leaving all their families with tears in each eye.
The baby crying, I can hear the scream,
A solution is easily found or so it would seem.
Choices the young ones make,
Don’t blame them it is only a mistake.
How many chances?
Does the beautiful lady see the eyes of all the men as she dances?
What is to come of us all?
Will we be asking that after we O.D. in a club bathroom stall?
Did we, or should I say I, just let it all casually fade away?
I and myself, to me per sway.
Death is not a question, this we all know,
Until it comes it is a forbidden show.
How shall we then realize the answer?
The problem grows inside and its name is Cancer.
I don’t know what to say anymore,
Looking around I pace the floor.
The thoughts in my mind are beginning to multiply.
Into a catatonic state, I am now shy.
The answers I seek.
Ending looking bleak.
Before this all comes to its end,
Your mind I beg you, to me lend.
Take these inquiries to a smarter being.
One who has more insight than what you are capable of seeing.
Maybe then we can get what I want to find,
The answers to my questions in that brilliant mind.
Who am I kidding and why would they care?
I'm just a kid sitting on his front porch in a busted lawn chair.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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