I remember days gone by,
When the world seemed bright and new,
With happiness I looked at the sky,
And I rarely felt sad or blue.
With age often comes sadness inside,
And a viewpoint more somber and dark.
But in youth life seems a carnival ride,
A joyful picnic in the park.
I pray that it will always be so,
That youth will always with hope bloom,
And with freshness and joy glow,
Without a hint of sadness or gloom.
The Soft Moonlight
The soft moonlight glows,
The stars brightly shine,
The little stream gently flows,
A peaceful night is mine.
I know not what tomorrow holds,
Nor what awaits beyond the veil,
But this night of tranquillity enfolds,
As in a gentle dreamland I sail.
Perhaps it will be my final night,
And the sunrise I will not see,
So I will enjoy the lovely moonlight,
For life tomorrow does not guarantee.
The dead lie beneath the rows of stones,
Once they lived and breathed the air,
Now here rest interred their bones,
No more have they worry or care.
In stone their engraved name,
Is their only identification now,
Buried with them their deeds and fame,
Their stone will only a few etched lines allow.
No stone can adequately portray a person,
The triumph, the heartbreak, the conflict,
The hopes, struggles, and emotions of someone,
A cold tombstone a living being can't depict.
Behold the golden beams of light,
Bursting forth shattering the dark,
Severing the sleeve of night,
And giving the day its spark.
Who knows what worlds awake?
Who knows what beings are reborn?
For a wonder is the daybreak,
And a miracle is each new morn.
Perhaps in some other dimension,
We will discover life is eternal dawn,
That our soul is ever in suspension,
And that the light of being will live on.
Love is like a fire,
That burns for eternity.
Love is like a star,
That shines everlastingly.
Love is like a moon,
That glows in the night.
Love is like a tune,
That sounds just right.
Love is everything good,
That dwells all around,
Without love darkness would
Be the only thing found.
The Spirit Of Love
The spirit of love is kind,
And suffereth long.
The spirit of love envieth not,
And glorieth not in the wrong.
The spirit of love thinketh no evil,
And seeketh not her own.
The spirit of love is not easily provoked,
And by gentleness and mercy is known.
The spirit of love doth not behave unseemly,
And doth not rejoice in iniquity.
The spirit of love rejoiceth in the truth,
And in faith, hope, and love for eternity.
Little hummingbird in the tree,
Now flying to the feeder and back to me,
What is it that you want me to see?
Your feeder is empty, hey?
Well, please won't you stay?
I'll fill you feeder right away.
I'm sorry I neglected you,
Sometimes I forget things to do,
If you leave I will be blue.
For you are always a happy sight,
You ever make the world seem bright,
You are a tiny bundle of joy and delight.
I got Shorty when I was three,
My Aunt Laura gave him to me.
A little white dog was Shorty,
A brown spot on his forehead had he.
Shorty and I used to run and play,
We were together almost every day,
Through sunny days and gray,
I wish those days had never went away.
He was the best friend I ever had,
Except for my mom and dad.
When Shorty died I felt really bad.
For a long time I was very sad.
It was an eerie night,
The full moon was shining bright,
And ghostly shapes seemed to appear,
In the moonlight far and near.
The wind made a wailing sound,
As it stirred the leaves all around,
Dark clouds over the moon draped,
And the trees appeared ghastly shaped.
Then was heard a horrid moan,
An unearthly supernatural groan,
As if from a demon from the depths of hell,
Everything was under the full moon's spell.
The Haunted House
The old house stood battered and worn,
The windows broken, the curtains torn,
The roof's shingles all blown away,
And the siding weathered and gray.
The trees around it were dead or dying,
And the remnants of flowers seemed sighing,
As if all life and hope were abandoned,
And that eternal doom was commanded.
Around the old house storms often brew,
At night a wild wailing wind often blew,
With a maniacal thunder and lightning display.
Nothing could drive the evil away.
The grave beckons us at last,
The final resting place,
When our time on earth is past,
And we have run our race.
Fame, fortune, what profit are they?
The grave distinguishes not,
For when we have passed away,
Nothing anymore of earth have we got.
We all lie down as one,
In that abode of the dead,
For when our life on earth is done,
In the grave we make our bed.
The pumpkins are ripe on the vine,
The leaves are falling from the trees,
In autumn everything is fine,
As the leaves fly about in the breeze.
In autumn the skies are the deepest blue,
And the nights are crisp and cool,
The sun shines brightly the whole day through,
And the mornings are frosty around the pool.
The trees display their colorful foliage array,
The apples are ripe, and grain ready to harvest,
Autumnal magic exists almost every day,
For pleasant weather and beauty autumn is best.
No Happy Ending
Solutions are not always there,
Sometimes there is no way out,
Sometimes life isn't always fair,
Sometimes all we can do is shout.
Sometime the deck against us is stacked,
Sometimes we have run out of luck,
Sometimes our dream world is cracked,
And in a kind purgatory we are stuck.
Sometimes there is no happy ending,
Sometimes things only seem to get worse,
Sometimes it seems doom is pending,
And that around the corner looms the hearse.
The Human Spirit
Maybe tomorrow things will be better,
That is what we tell ourself each day,
Even though everything seems so grim,
We never completely cast all hope away.
We are programmed to always have hope,
Even when there is no reason for it,
Even when common sense rules it out,
And I guess that is why we never quit.
Because the human spirit never gives up,
Never sees a mountain too high,
Or an obstacle too great to overcome,
That is why we never say die.