Another day has come and gone,
Now I fear I feel a yawn.
Born of times forgotten dreams,
Seen and heard within our means.

Sleep to me is just a way,
To rest from such a weary day.
Now I join the man of sleep,
Dreams abound my hidden keep.

Dream with me as you rest,
Sleep is like a gentle guest.
Favored by the dreams you see,
Now to dream with one like me.

Dream of dirt and dirty soil,
Nightmares filled with pain and toil.
Dream of life that is so sweet,
There my friend we will meet.

At the place of hugs and love,
Guided by the stars above.
Find this dream and you will see,
What its like to dream with me.

Actually you probably won't have to scream very loud, you what they say about Mom don't you?


Mom is always only a whisper away.



G

Through the clouds I seem to fall,
Mother dear I hear her call.
She tells me of the family dear,
How I wish that I was near.

I heard her voice in time and space,
She speaks of life’s sweet embrace.
Of children born into this clan,
One day soon another can.

Here the voice of long ago,
It speaks of times we all do know.
Of laughter joy and settings suns,
Family made of loving ones.

Many times I think of those,
Whom I write in simple prose.
Written from this mortal man,
Of a simple mortal clan.

Held together in the light,
From a life which is this bright.
Brighter than our sun or star,
Warmer than this sun by far.

As I fall into the cloud,
Thunder claps that are so loud.
Now I fall beneath the sky,
I look around and wonder why.

Layers of clouds did help my falls,
Love abounds within these walls.
Walls like these are made as thick,
As mortar filled the cracks of brick.

Masons built this family strong,
Love will keep this family throng.
Layers of clouds are like this brick,
Stronger now, and just as thick.

Build a dream just like this cloud,
Of this family I am proud.
Now I feel my families call,
Love inside will break my fall.

It is more than words can say, however it is nice to know life is kind to those who give thier all.

I am as happy for you as I am for the blessing I have been given.



G

That made me want to curl up by the fire.

G

I too miss those days, yet today Kim is making stuff for our dinner.

G

I want a copy of the book, with characters like this it might just be worth reading.



G

The forest of the mind is deep and dark, but there is a path.

Great to see you again.

G

The aroma of sweets is in the air, and I am taken back to a place far away. The air is rich with spices, and warmth. I am able to taste the cinnamon and nutmeg from a house long ago. The family is gathering and speaking of times when they were but children.

Is this what love and living is about?

I wonder what will be spoken of today?

Will we speak of times long ago forgotten?

Will we speak of things that will come to be?

I know of what I have learned in my lifetime and will find out what has occurred to others since last we spoke. We will share experiences of grief and sorrow and laugh at them. We will share of joys that were brought into our lives. Most of all we will share the lives we have together in a way that will never be repeated.

I know we will speak of why we celebrate this day, and I know the memories that come with this sharing. Some will be nice, some will be forgotten, yet most of all I will remember what I was told as a young lad, and I will be in reverence today.

I will be as many bards have done; I will listen and remember the stories to be passed down in the ages to come. I have heard many stories and sing them in my heart. They will be passed on to the next generation and so on and so on.

Will you remember these stories and pass them on?

Maybe someday you will be asked to sing the stories of old. On that day will you be ready? I know of the things I am prepared to do. Are you?

I am but a simple man with simple thoughts, I sing of this day of memories, and remember the days of old. Like the ideas in my memories, I am only one spec of sand smelling the aromas surrounding me.

Smell these spices and rejoice in knowing the memories of grandma’s house.

I believe, the fact that I am reminded each day by friends like you, How could I not?



G

Thank you for the kind words, they are very much appreciated.



G

Here I sit, the rain is falling and I wonder how long the rain will continue. It is a medium rain with an occasional torrent, yet it seems to be calling for something I am unable to give. I hear its pitter patter as it hits the roof, its tone is soothing and I feel like it is trying to say something.

Is this rain a cleaning of my soul, as it is cleaning the roof? Is it washing away the dirt and grime from this shell I reside in like the dirt on the drive? I wonder if I will ever be as fresh and clean as the rain falling?

The stream is becoming deeper by the moment, and I wonder if it is as the things I have found after other storms? Polished glass, and stones rolling down the stream. It is clear to see that this rain is not a storm, it is only washing away the layers of dirt built up over the weeks previous.

Is this how nature cleans up after making such a mess? I wish I could clean things as easily after one of messes. Often I think of the many showers I have seen, only now realizing I am like the one that called to the rain. Please rain clean my soul as you do the earth. Help me to know what it is like to be clean again.

As I listen for an answer I am beginning to doze, wondering when nature will call to me again. Will I be able to hear the thoughts of the rain as my own. Nature calls to me as the wolf howls in the wind. I sleep again, forever waiting for the rain again.

Go get him, don't give him the time of day, the are a lot more out there in the woods.


\
G

Truly a beautiful piece.



G

Long I look into the sky,
Wonders found beneath the eye.
Long I look into the sea,
Wonders now I tend to see.

As I watch the days go bye,
Stars are born within the sky.
As I locked the things I see,
Stars be found beneath the sea.

Now I think of times past,
Shared with me the stories last.
Told of ages long ago,
Honor, truth, what do we know.

Thinking long of those times,
Sages ancient sang in rhymes.
Histories of days in song,
Never written could be long.

Now I feel the things I see,
Of a life that’s joyous, free.
From times spent so long ago,
On the sea, and in the snow.

Warm yet wet seen from these eyes,
Tears of life in all the skies.
Look, these wonders that we see,
From this land to shining sea.

See with me the days of old,
Deeper than the fields of gold.
Dig within these dreams of mortals,
Tell me now of open portals.

Gates within the human eye,
Opened wide beneath the sky.
Wider than the largest sea,
Tell me now just what you see.

By the sound of it you have done well in raising your children. They have truly become something to brag about.

My hope is that if ever I have children they will have even the slightest hope to be as yours are.



G

Actually poetry means more than just rhyming your words. The difference between different styles preferred by some more than others is what makes each style unique. One of the greatest poets of all time is Alfred Hitchcock, and for the most part his do not rhyme. He is definately my favorite poet, yet our styles are quite different.



{{{{{{{{{{MOM}}}}}}}}}}

{{{{{{{{{Familia}}}}}}}}}

As For looking back at the mirrors reflection, that in itself another writting all together.

To those who enjoy the words I write, I thank you for reading.

G

Well my dear for ramblings you did invoke quite a few thoughts, I love it.



G