I See You
• 07/21/23 at 01:52PM •The lights are low,
I see you. Beautiful
is the word which
come to mind.
I miss you, my sweet one.
Don't know what to do,
except to be by your side,
as long as I can.
The lights are low,
I see you. Beautiful
is the word which
come to mind.
I miss you, my sweet one.
Don't know what to do,
except to be by your side,
as long as I can.
Pave the way to the stars,
please do it for she.
Help her to find her way
as she is important to me.
Words spin freely,
from out my mind,
about loving another,
and not being unkind.
Oh, sweet surrender,
come love me again,
as I miss your hugs
I no longer get weepy,
eyed, except when I
hear a Willie Nelson
song.
To serve my country day by day
At any humble post I may;
To honor and respect her Flag,
To live the traits of which I brag;
To be American in deed
As well as in my printed creed.
To stand for truth and honest toil,
To till my little patch of soil
And keep in mind the debt I owe
To them who died that I might know
My country, prosperous and free,
And passed this heritage to me.
I must always in trouble’s hour
Be guided by the men in power;
For God and country I must live,
My best for God and country give;
No act of mine that men may scan
Must shame the name American.
To do my best and play my part,
American in mind and heart;
To serve the flag and bravely stand
To guard the glory of my land;
To be American in deed,
God grant me strength to keep this creed.
Edgar Albert Guest (1881 – 1959) was a British-born American poet who became known as the People's Poet. His family moved from England to Detroit, Michigan when he was ten years old and he lived there the rest of his life. He worked for the Detroit Free Press for 64 years. He published more than twenty volumes of poetry and was thought to have written over 12,000 poems. His poems often had an inspirational and optimistic view of everyday life. Of his poems he said, "I take simple everyday things that happen to me and I figure it happens to a lot of other people and I make simple rhymes out of them. "His popularity led NBC to produce a weekly 15-minute radio program, “Guest in Your Home,” which ran from 1931 to 1942.
The Globe editorialized his passing by quoting Philip Coldren, the late editorial page editor who wrote that the key to Guest’s greatness was “that among the thousands of Guest poems, ‘there has not been a single one that has promoted wickedness or meanness or anything else but kindness and gentleness and peace and hope"
When day has ended
and another morn,
brightens the time,
since you were born.
Plant, above my lifeless heart
Crimson roses, red as blood.
As if the love, pent there so long
Were pouring forth its flood.
Then, through them, my heart may tell,
Its Past of Love and Grief,
And I shall feel them grow from it,
And know a vague relief.
Through rotting shroud shall feel their roots,
And unto them myself shall grow,
And when I blossom at her feet,
She, on that day, shall know!
(Poem is in the public domain)
Anne Reeve Aldrich (1866 – 1892) was an American poet and novelist. Her works include The Rose of Flame (1889) and Other and The Feet of Love (1890) and Songs about Life, Love, and Death (published posthumously in 1892). Aldrich was born in New York City. Her father died when she was eight; her mother moved to the country, where she educated Aldrich. By the time she was a teenager, Aldrich was proficient in composition and rhetoric, was able to translate French and Latin. She wrote poetry constantly from a young age.
When love was young,
my mind was new.
All my thoughts of love,
were about you.
Now I'm an elder,
my mind will stay,
as my thoughts of love,
refuse to go away.
Ophelia
My sister went to the Angels,
Years before I was born,
Her photo, always displayed,
Was a normal part of our home.
The pain from her early death,
Came out slowly, a bit at a time,
But not fully understood,
By the mind of a child like me.
Her photo now in my home,
Is displayed just as before,
but I still wonder why and why not,
Not understanding, and unable to ignore.
All Copyrights are reserved: Calob 2023
I see,
as you walk by,
a happy morning,
a sad goodbye
"Only a dad, but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing, with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen,
Only a dad, but the best of men"
Last Stanza from Edgard Guest's Poem "Only a Dad" See complete poem
For all the joys, you are.
For all the love you bring,
my soul burns brightly
of your virtues, I'll sing.