Soul Searching Poems

Spirit of 53

A booming year, in '53,
the mid-point of last century;
Our nation was at peace, once more
by ending the Korean war.

A new star saw the light of day
when GM sold the first Stingray.
A postage stamp was just 3 cents,
with unemployment-3 percent.

Another leader came to power
when we elected Eisenhower.
The British must have wept and sighed
the day their famed Queen Mary died.

The film of 1953
was "From Here To Eternity".
The drive-in theatres were the rage
and sci-fi had just come of age.

The first year cinematic screen
became the largest ever seen;
we watched invaders come from Mars
while "It" came toward us from the stars.

Most readers gaped and read wide-eyed,
the first Playboy and T.V. guide.
The Yankees won the world series
by bringing Brooklyn to their knees.

And looking to the "race track" side,
"Dark Star" became Kentucky's pride.
One Randall Jarrell took the stage
with his book "Poetry and the Age".

While music pulsed with "swing & jive",
the jitterbug was still alive.
The world had not yet heard of "soul",
rap, heavy metal...rock-n-roll.

We heard the horn of Harry James
and crooning songs from Brothers Ames.
Although the era slipped away,
its memories are here to stay.
A booming year, in '53-
the year this poet came to be...

Vagabond Paws

At the start of the engine,
he jumps to his feet,
making tracks to his cockpit
and into his seat.

This roaming companion,
who's one of a kind
is the finest co-pilot
a traveler will find.

He's a great navigator
from down in his spot
and he loves a long trek
whether scenic or not.

He's seen enough highway
to guide his own tours
and when eatin' time comes,
he will eat his AND yours!

The sound of the wheels
putting miles far behind
and the wind in his face
are like magic, combined,

but just slow down or turn
any way, shape or form
and this four-legged gypsy
will bark up a storm!

Wherever we travel,
whatever the cause,
we won't move an inch
without "Vagabond Paws"!

The Captain's Tale

I stood aboard the ancient ship
that long outlived her crew,
and proudly, I made good a vow
to make her sail like new.

She'd reefed ashore so long ago
with no identity,
and fell prey a host of tales
about her "entity".

When rifling through a box one day,
I'd found 'neath lock and key,
The Captain's log, reporting how
the crew was lost at sea.

A memoir in the captain's hand
was entered in the log.
his final-yet-coherent words
described a blinding fog.

They weathered until morning
when the fog had finally cleared.
The captain was in shock to find
his crew had disappeared.

I heard their voices echoing
in ghastly, distant cries
Then, suddenly appeared the specter
right before my eyes!

There stood the figure of a man
obscured by fading light.
Not standing firmly on the deck,
he was a ghostly sight!

His deep-set eyes with bushy brows
and long, grey scraggly beard,
a ruddy face and bullish stance
that sailors must have feared!

"What brings you here aboard my ship?"
demanding in protest.
"I'm here to send you on your way
to put your souls to rest!"

"The lighthouse beam went dark too soon
and blinded you from shore;
Your aimless boat was run aground
and sailed the sea no more."

"According to the log, it's been
one hundred years to date;
You've fixed her and it's time to flee
the bondage of our fate!"

"You must've spent the century
in search of Heaven's Gate;
Tonight I'll put you on our way
before it is too late."

And on that night, came fog and rain
and pulled the ship asea.
The crew emerged, the captain yelled,
"Our souls are finally free!"

Somewhere aboard the fading ship,
was heard the distant quip
of Captain's voice, who roared in boast:
"I never left my ship!"

A Dinosaur of Lore

Seekers 'round the world obsess
about a creature in Loch Ness;
A species thought to be extinct
yet rendered proof is indistinct.

Some folks contend she's long died out,
while others say she lurks about.
She seemingly comes up and gloats,
evading sonar from their boats.

This part cryptozoology
and wee bit of mythology,
has kept researchers mystified
as something unidentified.

Some fifteen hundred year-old lore
shows carvings of a dinosaur,
the perfect likeness of our star
who's ducked captivity, thus far.

A question lingers as to when
she made her way into the Glen
She's enigmatic and, what's more,
she's said to be a plesiosaur.

If "Nessie's" proven out a fake,
she'll change the spirit of that lake.
What really dwells beneath Loch Ness
is anybody's fondest guess.

Sock Heaven

A fate to which we all are proned
with every pair we've ever owned,
it happens to our favorite pair
as one dissolves into thin air!

Once the laundry has been done,
what left as two, returns as one.
the one sock comes back nice and clean-
its mate is never again seen,

or magically, "if" both come back,
the one is blue, the other-black!
The search is on to find those socks
from hampers, trash to litter box,

continuing behind the doors,
in closets, dressers, beds and floors-
You probably thought you'd never miss
the one that found the deep abyss...

Once ZAPPED as with a magic wand,
it's doomed to meet the "Great Beyond."
We victims have the right to know,
"Where DO those other half-pairs go?"

I heard one soul confess and say,
his "wreaked" so foul it hopped away!
To keep his tootsies smelling sweet,
he now parades in "sock-less" feet!

To better fight the "lost-sock-blues,"
just tape your pant legs to your shoes,
or hide the fact that one was lost,
by sitting with the ankles crossed!

Perhaps one striped and one argyle
will come to be the latest style?
Until then, "Makers hear our plea:
Why don't they come in pairs of three?"

Farewell, Columbia

It was seventeen years
since our nation shed tears
from the loss of the Challenger crew

to the horrific way
and almost to the day,
the disaster repeated anew.

There were echoing cries
as the wrath of the skies
opened up to claim seven more lives.

As it came into view,
the Columbia's crew
left their families, husbands and wives.

leaving tears in their wake
from another heartbreak,
all so quickly, the seven were gone

but the memories engraved
in our hearts will be saved
where the seven forever live on.

Friends By a Thread

Up late at my desk
with my eyes in a book,
a visitor dropped in
for perhaps a close look.

Hanging precariously
on the end of a thread
was a resident spider
in front of my head.

I was keenly amused
as he stayed in suspension,
this eight-legged creature
who got my attention.

The curious arachnid
who saw me below
felt the need to come down
just to say his "Hello".

This meeting became
an ongoing affair
with the nightly descendings
from high in the air.

I miss staying up
for my frequent all-nighter
to be entertained
by that dangling spider

as one night I discovered
while searching up high,
my friend disappeared
without saying "Goodbye."

Prince Andre'

This short-legged fellow,
animatedly fun...
In his own little way,
he's like having a son.

He has black curly hair
and a salty goatee;
With the curls in his eyes,
we're amazed he can see.

At the drop of a pin,
he brave-heartedly yaps.
After saving the day,
he jumps into our laps.

When he catches a whiff
of our meal in the air,
he will sit down and join us
with a pitiful stare.

If he thinks we ignore him,
he'll sit there and brood
and continue to stare
till we offer him food.

To keep us amused,
for his usual treat,
after visiting a tree,
he'll dance on his loveseat.

He's a wonderful sport
who deserves all he gets,
since he rooms with the cats,
our two other house pets!

King Sebastian

An old curmudgeon, stiff and gray
who seems to sleep his life away
and former ruler who was crowned
the best mouse catcher all around.

Now in the twilight of his years
as age and blindness swiftly nears.
What once was called his hearty roar
is now a squeak and nothing more.

To some, he seems to have his flaws,
this blind old cat with no front claws.
To our surprise, he'll sometimes do
an energetic feat, or two

like dazzle us when time to feed
by showing us his sudden speed.
And though too blind to catch a mouse,
he's still the lion of the house.

One day, a mouse ran past that cat,
who looked at us like, "What was that?"
For him, we never have to search,
beyond his sunny sofa perch.

The sound of thunder coming near
still makes him "cringe" and disappear.
Our home would never be the same
if King Sebastian never came.

My Last Bow

Before I meet trail's end in life
and my lot has been bought,
and said all that I'll ever say,
I'll leave with one last thought:

I chose directions best I could
and made my mark in life;
Left lingering memories, bad and good
(One good...I took a wife!)

I settled down in later years
and like to think "matured,"
maintaining hopes and conquering fears
was how I had endured.

So don't grieve for me, my days are gone.
The story's over now;
In truth, you see, I'll travel on,
once taking my last bow.

Poetry Afoot

It seems I've chased forever now,
the woman by the stream

and waited long for her to show
like waiting for a dream.

When mist and Sun meet at the dawn,
she dances as she nears.

And only then, to catch a glimpse
before she disappears.

An ageless face, a flowing gown,
a sound is never heard.

Without the slightest utterance,
no, not a single word.

So taken by her hair and garb,
as though from centuries past,

perhaps she walked this way the day
that came to be her last.

Alas, I'll keep returning here
to watch this lovely mime

forever, or until she fades,
this vision caught in time.

The Sea & Me

Like my father before,
I have wandered the shore
where the sands and the seas were my home.

At the end of the day,
with the crowds gone away,
I'd return to my playground to roam.

It's a world of its own
like no other I've known,
where the moon-glittered sea meets the sky,

with the brine-scented breeze
blowing in from the seas,
I'd encounter a pastoral high.

I would often explore
countless treasures ashore
where they beached when they came with the tide,

and for hours, I'd sift
through those "jewels" left adrift
where they'd rest from a turbulent ride.

There were times when I'd sit
at the end of the spit,
watching ships come and go through the night

At the set of the moon,
I would disappear soon
and be gone by the morning's first light.

A Tale of Sherwood

A legend from the middle ages
sprang out of Sherwood.
It told a tale that changed the pages
of a Robin Hood.

Some say he was a group of men
who plundered far and wide.
Together, roaming through the glen,
they fleeced the countryside.

Another tale depicts one man
whose story had begun
emerging as a nobleman,
the Earl of Huntington.

One day he chose to help the poor
and shed his royal attire
to wage and unexpected war
on lords of Nottinghamshire.

Along the way, he made a friend
Who proved both brave and true.
One Little John, who, to the end
Would see their battles through.

Of Prince John, who was then ruling
the peasants were afraid.
He taxed while "Lionheart", the king
was fighting a crusade.

The overlords became corrupt
and took more than their share
'till Robin's men came to disrupt
and stop them everywhere.

They hid in numbers by the road
to greet the nobles there,
then separate them from their load
and give the poor their share.

Sir Robin was the finest aim,
by light of day or dark.
A marksman worthy of his name,
his arrows found their mark.

When Lionheart returned from war
Sir Robin made a friend.
The unjust kingdom was no more
with quite a happy end.

Maid Marion, Robin's secret love
was offered as his bride.
Accepting her and all thereof,
the life they'd both abide.

There stands a headstone time has saved
that bears our hero's name.
Medieval poetry, there engraved
as homage to his fame...

A Walk Into Heaven

If you live the way that God intends
on faith, by day and night,

He'll show you how his spirit mends
by walking in the light.

A one-to-one relationship
with God will set you free,

evoking praises from your lips
and cause your eyes to see.

Seeing hope in everything
where darkness once prevailed,

you'll thank him for delivering
a life that would have failed!

My Flighty Friend

One beautiful morning,
and before my first cup,
a commotion outside
began waking me up!

My neighbor, named "Bob,"
boldly summoned me out
since he saw by the lights
I was up and about.

Apparently wanting
to visit and chat,
this continued outside
on the porch where we sat.

As a ritual, I always
offer a snack
which is probably why
he keeps coming back.

Our dialog is lacking,
confusing at best.
Once I bid him "good morning"
he says all the rest.

Though our languages differ
we have understanding,
which helps things along
and is never demanding.

This bantering would probably
stir up some laughter
if listeners could know
what my friend is here after.

At the end of our ritual,
he always takes flight,
as he whistles his name,
the familiar "Bob White."

Remnants: The Iraq Attack

Some deep in the giants,
some high in the air
and all doomed to perish
but yet unaware,

as looming above,
the dark forces at hand
would wreak terror & horribly
malign our great land.

A band of disciples
from Hell's darkest mires
ripped the cores from our hearts
with explosions and fires.

The tragedy came
in the wink of an eye
and would seem like forever
to those who would die.

In horror, we looked
as they crashed to the ground;
Through the rubble and smoke,
a few living were found.

The giants are gone,
countless souls are now perished,
but the memories of those
whom we loved will be cherished.

Our freedom has come
at immeasurable cost.
We must pray for the families
of those who were lost.