A POEM

[dent]

Hey look at me
I'm only three
Someday I'll grow
It seems so slow
There must be something wrong
Why does it take so long?

Somebody's been messin' with the clock

Hey I'm finally six
I'm learning tricks
I'm now in school
It's really cool
I'm beginning to grow
But it's still slow
There must be something wrong
Why does it take so long?

Somebody's been messin' with the clock



Hey look I'm twelve almost a teen
That will be really keen
I'm finally getting to be grown
Someday I'll be out and on my own
The time is moving on at last
But still it's not too very fast
There must be something wrong
Why does it take so long?

Somebody's been messin' with the clock

Can you believe I'm twenty four?
I've started to work and so much more
I've found my mate
And life is great
We're waiting on our second son
Our life has just begun
Where does this time all go
It really seems to flow

Somebody's been messin' with the clock

Hey look you'll have to wait
It can't be true I'm forty eight
Our little son that lovely lad
Is soon to be a brand new Dad
I know these clocks they must be broke
Time goes by like puffs of smoke

Somebody's been messin' with the clock



There's just no way that this can be
I'm way too young for sixty three
My life has passed in such a blur
Why do some things have to occur
We had our plans to really live
But she gave all she had to give
I sit and try to dry the tears
Has she been gone a whole four years?
Don't understand why it should be
That she should lose to the big "C"
Our baby grand's already eight
She wants to grow, can hardly wait
She sighs and gives a moan
When will I get to be full grown
There must be something wrong
Why does it take so long?
For all the time I've left to live
The only answer I can give

IS

Somebody's been messin' with the clock

[LuLu]

I'M NOT OLD, I'M JUST MATURE

Today at the drugstore, the clerk was a gent.
From my purchase he took off 10 percent.

I asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, It's the Seniors Discount."

I went to McDonald's for a burger and fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.

The clerk poured some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, "For you seniors, the coffee is free."

Understand -- I'm not old -- I'm merely mature.
But some things are changing, temporarily, I'm sure.

The newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer , can't hear what they say.

My teeth are my own (I have the receipt),
and my glasses identify people I meet.

Oh, I've slowed down a bit , not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I'm not old ... I'm only mature.

The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.

Washing my hair has turned it all white,
Calling it blond is just about right.

My car is all paid for, not a nickel is owed. Yet a kid yells, "Old duffer, get off of the road!"

My car has no scratches, not even a dent. Still I get all that guff from a punk who's "Hell bent."

My friends all get older ... much faster than me. T
hey seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.

I've got "character lines," not wrinkles, for sure, But don't call me old : just call me mature.

The steps in the houses they're building today
Are so high that they take your breath all away;

And the streets are much steeper than 10 years ago. That should explain why my walking is slow.

I'm keeping up on what's hip and what's new,
And I know I can still dance a mean boogaloo.

I'm still in the running, in this I'm secure,
I'm not really old , I'm only mature.

[LuLu]

[LuLu]

A VISITOR FROM THE PAST.

I had a dream the other night, I didn’t understand.
A figure walking through the mist, with flintlock in his hand.
… His clothes were torn and dirty, as he stood there by the bed,
He took off his three-cornered hat, and speaking low, he said:“We fought a revolution, to secure our liberty.
We wrote the Constitution, as a shield from tyranny,
For future generations, this legacy we gave,
In this, the land of the free and the home of the brave.”“The freedom we secured for you, we hoped you’d always keep.
But tyrants labored endlessly, while your parents were asleep.
Your freedom gone, your courage lost, you’re no more
than a slave,
In this, the land of the free and the home of the brave.”“You buy permits to travel, and permits to own a gun,
Permits to start a business, or to build a place for one.
On land that you believe you own, you pay a yearly rent,
Although you have no voice in choosing how the money’s spent.”

“Your children must attend a school that doesn’t educate.
Your Christian values can’t be taught, according to the state.
You read about the current news, in a regulated press.
You pay a tax you do not owe, to please the I.R.S.”

“Your money is no longer made of silver or of gold.
You trade your wealth for paper, so your life can be controlled.
You pay for crimes that make our nation turn from God in shame,
You’ve taken Satan’s number, as you’ve traded in your name.”

“You’ve given government control to those who do you harm,
So they can padlock churches, and steal the family farm,
And keep the country deep in debt, put men of God in jail,
Harass your fellow countrymen, while corrupted courts prevail.”

“Your public servants don’t uphold the solemn oath they’ve sworn.
Your daughters visit doctors so their children won’t be born.
Your leaders ship artillery and guns to foreign shores,
And send your sons to slaughter, fighting other people’s wars.”

“Can you regain freedom for which we fought and died?
Or don’t you have the courage or the faith to stand with pride?
Are there no more values for which you’ll fight to save?
Or do you wish your children to live in fear and be a slave?”

“Sons of the Republic, arise and take a stand!
Defend the Constitution, the Supreme Law of the Land!
Preserve our great republic and each God-given right,
And pray to God to keep the torch of freedom burning bright!”

As I awoke he vanished, in the mist from which he came.
His words were true, we are not free. We have ourselves to blame.
For even now as tyrants trample each God-given right,
We only watch and tremble, too afraid to stand and fight.

If he stood by your bedside, in a dream while you’re asleep,
And wondered what remains of our rights he fought to keep,
What would be your answer, if he called out from the grave?
Is this still the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?

[LuLu]

A POEM WORTH READING
He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Joe has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Veteran died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'Tho a Veteran died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young,
But the passing of a Veteran
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?

The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Veteran,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small.
It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever-waffling stand?

Or would you want a Veteran
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Veteran,
Who would fight until the end.

He was just a common Veteran,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his likes again.


For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Veteran's part,
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A VETERAN DIED TODAY."