My Poem ‘A Mother’s Nature’

Every son and every daughter
needs a hero to look up to
while growing up…
every child deserves the best
that their parents can give them –
but the gift of a mother’s love
is so unparreleled and so pure,
and without the gifts
that only a mother can give
no child would know
what the power of love truly means…
mothers go through a rollercoaster of emotions
as they put the needs and the feelings
and the future of their child before their own…
mothers and fathers are both responsible
for the life, the caring, the well-being,
and the building of the nest
that is at the centre of their childs’ world –
however, a child will want for nothing
as long as they always have a place
to call their home.

So much of life is about sacrifice –
but there is nothing more important to a child,
and nothing else that they will remember more,
than those moments of true happiness and innocence
when they were a small child
just before they drifted off to sleep
and they stared into their parents’ smiling face
as they wished them good-night.

Every form of nature has seasons,
and sometimes both fathers and mothers
have to weather more than their children could ever know…
sometimes both fathers and mothers
have to go through indescribable hurt and heart-break
just so that their children might not have
to suffer the same fate of falling
to the depths to where life
sometimes makes people go.

As with most things in life,
there is no perfect blue-print,
nor is there anybody who could honestly proport
to being all-knowing when it comes
to what is best for their child –
but the most important thing
is to always be there for your child
with open-arms, to not judge your child
for who they are, and no matter what
be the one who will always nurture.

The life of a Mom can be hard sometimes,
and it can be filled with just as many tears
as there are smiles –
however, there is nobody who has never
needed and not wanted to be loved
and understood by their parents,
and at the heart of a true mother of children
there lies a pure and eternal love,
and among everything that can sustain a child
throughout their life, truly and in every way,
there is nothing more beautiful,
nor more wonderful to see,
than the gifts of love of a mother’s nature.

My Poem ‘In view of the Trocadero’

You can’t beat a great seat
near a window with a great view –
whether it be a panoramic-view in Italy
that features the epic and awe-inspiring sight
of a volcano called “Mount Vesuvius”,
or the watery-splendor of the majestic fountains
of the Palais de Chaillot in France,
or standing on the rocky-top of Tennessee…
there are some sights and some places
that irrevocably stay with you.

So much art has been created…
so many poems have been written…
so many stories have been generated…
so many songs have been christened
with the identity and the inspiration
that they will always be known for…
so many things cannot be captured
with a photograph, or with words –
because no matter what is seen or said
about a place in particular
there is always so much more…
memories from childhood of a place
that we visited mean so much
because they were the first time
that we went there,
and nobody ever forgets
their first time going somewhere…
legends are built upon
the retelling of tales
and the experiences of people
who wanted the history of the world
to never forget what it is
and what it was about a place
that gave people a reason to say
why it is that they care
and what is the most important thing
about a place that they want to share.

When you are looking out the window of an airplane
you feel like you are within
touching-distance of heaven…
when you are sitting on a bench in Golden Gate Park
and marveling at the oasis
of spell-binding beauty that you see
at the very heart of the city of San Francisco…
when you are standing on a seaside boardwalk
and you become intoxicated
by all that stimulates your senses
as you become hypnotized by the sight
of the bright sunlight
shimmering on the ocean waves below…
when you are somewhere that instantly
becomes somewhere that means the world to you,
you will take that place with wherever you go…
just like the view that I have now of The Trocadero –
a small reminder of a place with the same name,
that lives on even though it is far from home.

My Poem ‘The Wilder Tower’

I will never forget the first time I saw
and the first that I climbed the steps
of the “Wilder Tower” – the lightning tower…
I will never forget the silence that I heard
and the feeling of peace that I felt
when I stood atop the stone-built tower
that stands as a monument in a former battlefield
in Chickamauga, Georgia…
I will never forget and I could never truly describe
what I was thinking and what it meant to me
to be where I was and with whom I was with…
I will never forget what came over me,
nor how fast my heart was beating,
as we were standing and looking below and beyond
to the green-grass and to the trees
that stretch to the horizon in almost every direction…
I felt as if I had always been meant to be there,
and as if the tower itself had been calling to me
and beckoning to me all my life.

The Wilder Tower stands tall and steady,
and over the years since its construction first began
it has literally weathered everything:
from a delay in its building,
to being hit during a thunder-storm
by a bolt of blue-lightning…
the Wilder Tower is magnetic
and it is a place that draws people to it…
the Wilder Tower is somewhere anybody can go
to climb, to stop, to think,
and to call out for an answer
from whomever may be listening…
the Wilder Tower is a powerful place
to find inspiration if you are romantic
or artistically-inclined,
especially if you a young-lover,
an artist, and a poet.

To some people, a building is just a building …
to some people, a tower is just a tower…
to some people, a memorial to a battle
is just a reminder of a violent past –
however, to me, certain places have great meaning
and they have the draw and the gravity
that they do for reasons
that are sometimes spiritual in nature…
our planet – the world that gives us
all that we could ever possibly want or need –
has many places on it that will forever have a memory
imbued and associated with it
that will always make them places
that are meaningful and special…
I have stood atop skyscrapers –
from the towering Empire State Building
to the beautiful Rockefeller Center in New York City –
and though those buildings and the skylines
that I saw will stay with me forever
in my memories that I will always remember,
nothing and nowhere could compare
to the first time that I stood looking at,
climbing the stairs of,
and then standing atop of
and high-above the ground,
with my heart in my hands,
while smiling and in-awe
of the 85-foot tall
Wilder Tower.

My Poem ‘The Corsage’

It’s a beautiful thing…
it’s a beautiful time…
it’s a beautiful symbol
of eternal friendship
and of companionship…
it’s a beautiful gift…
it’s a beautiful memory
and a beautiful sign
of how much someone means to you…
I truly love the act
and the meaning of giving
the gift of a flower to somebody –
and it is at this time of the year,
in some places, when love blossoms
and shows itself between two people
and forever forges an unbreakable link.

Soon, teenagers from all over America
will be getting dressed-up
and going out with their dates…
soon, an afternoon of anticipation
will turn into an evening
of dreams coming true…
soon, the stars of night will come out
and young couples will dance and party
till the hour turns late…
soon, young men and young women
will return home after a night of magic
and reveling below the shine of the moon.

Everybody blossoms from a single seed of life
and of infinite potential and possibilities…
every child becomes the adult
that they will one day be slowly,
as they grow and as they are influenced
by everything that they feel, hear, touch, and see…
to their parents, children grow up before their eyes
and in their eyes too quickly –
every day as we all get older
we are reminded that the time
that we have on Earth is short,
however there lies its true-beauty…
we can do much, we can go far –
but the meaning of life is to love
and there is no better way to love
than to give the gift of a flower,
especially when it is prom-night
and somebody gives their prom-date
the most beautiful of all corsage.

My Poem ‘Tennessee Honey’

Her hair is blonde…
Her eyes are blue…
She and I have an unbreakable-bond…
She drives a Chevy Malibu.

The woman I love has the key to my heart –
she makes me happy, she makes smile,
she’s amazing, she’s incredible,
and she’s the muse of my art.

We met online… we met on Twitter…
I have loved her since the moment I saw her.

The woman I love is perfect as can be –
she’s my Georgia chikadee,
she’s my Tennessee honey.

I have never loved anyone like I love you, Melissa!

My short-story/poem ‘The Trick-or-Treaters’

the-trick-or-treaters
Just before the sun went down
on October 31st,
on the evening of Halloween,
two brothers, Isaac and Reece,
and their little-sister, Hailie,
left their house to go walking up their street
to go knocking on the doors of their neighbours
and to say in one voice the phrase of the hour:
“trick-or treat”.
Every year, on Halloween, these three siblings
loved getting dressed up from head-to-toe
in costumes of their own choosing –
and this year, like every year,
Hailie was a “ghost”, Reece was a “Vampire”,
and Isaac was a “werewolf”,
and every year when they got home from “trick-or-treating”
they always returned with more candy
than they knew what to do with…
going door-to-door with one-another
was a tradition that these three loved reenacting –
come clouds and rain, or under clear sky and moon-shine;
however, they only went up the street and back again,
and since they lived in a cul-de-sac
the sooner that their trick-or-treating began
in no time at all it soon came to a sad end for another year.

Every year it was all treats and no tricks-
but, since this year there was a new neighbour
that had moved into their road,
Reece in particular hoped that maybe this year
they might return home with more
than just a bag full of sweets.

The new neighbours lived in the house
at the end of the road, up a driveway,
where a lady used to live
who had more cats than could ever be counted –
but who had sadly passed-away;
Reece, Isaac, and Hailie, did not know
the late-lady well, only her name:
“Mrs. Leech” – however, word got around
and it was thought that now
her sister had taken on her house
following Mrs. Leech’s passing,
and her name was apparently: “Ms. Beetle” –
“like the car, and not the British band”,
the mailman had recently pointed out.

It was Halloween again,
and Hailie, Reece, and Isaac
had knocked on every door of their street – but one –
and all three were carrying a considerable
amount of treats to return home with;
however, they had not yet visited Ms. Beetle’s house,
which they had left until last on purpose.

The walk up the driveway to Ms. Beetle’s house
at the bottom of the street was done slowly –
and as soon as the trio of siblings walked up
onto the wooden porch of Ms. Beetle’s house,
and they knocked on the front-door,
neither one of them knew what to expect –
however, they certainly didn’t expect
the door to open seemingly on its own,
and they most certainly didn’t expect to see
Ms. Beetle dressed all in black
mixing away at a giant cauldron-shaped
black container with bubbles and gases
jetting up from the green mixture…
and they most certainly, definitely,
did not expect Ms. Beetle to look
at all three of them and say:
“so, what will it be? Trick or treat?”
Ms. Beetle then began to cackle at the top of her lungs –
and that was when all three of the kids screamed,
then turned around, and jumped off
of Ms. Beetle’s porch, and they ran
all the way up the street and all the way home,
leaving behind all their treats
that they had collected from the night.

The next day, their was a knock at the door
of Hailie, Reece, and Isaac’s house –
and when their Mom answered the door
Ms. Beetle was standing there on the other side
and smiling from ear-to-ear
and holding out in front of her
the three bags of candy that the kids had left behind.
Ms. Beetle apologized for the night before,
and she gave the kids their bags of candy
and she told them that she was pleased to meet them,
and that this year she gave them both a trick and a treat –
but she also said that there was no telling
what she was going to do next year,
and the only way they would know
would be if they were brave enough
to come knocking on her door again,
and all ask her: “trick-or-treat”?