Poem To My Sister: So, Your 64 Today

Posted on by oldpoet56

So, Your 64 Today

 

I remember the days of our youth, do you

Do you remember all the different homes

Three States, and in several yards we played

Being poor white trash and Mom’s heartaches

Little eyes see and they can understand so much

 

One Tyrant in a child’s life can ruin their psyche

Good Cop, Bad Cop played out at home every night

The Farm in the dirt road hills and the starting of school

Black Hills Gold and the Faces carved into a mountain

Faith and Deadwood, a dead man’s cards fell once again

 

Our growing up years in a place so cold and foreign to us

No matter the forces we always hooked arms side by side

You have always been there for me, I love you dearly for it

We have both seen and overcome life’s trials we were given

My Sister of the Cloth in the End OF Days we shall both see

64 Today my Sister: and of you, I could not be any prouder

 

(Philosophy Poem) Can We Really Trust Anyone These Day’s

Posted on by oldpoet56

 

Who do we trust; is there really anyone we would bet your breath of life on

I mean really deep down inside us, answering this question only to ourselves

Our life and our families lives on the line, is there a Soul devoted and true

In our lives, look at all of our living bloodline, would they all drop a dime

At our chosen place of holy worship, do we even really care what is the Truth

Is there any flesh in the building whose word to us is always golden, unbroken

 

 

Is there anyone in our lives that we can go to who won’t sell us out with a smile

I can only hope my friend that you are blessed like I, with loved ones by my side

Rocks fall upon us all, even our beloved spouse and children will fail us at times

Pray we have a warm blanket on the winter nights, to keep our bare toes inside

Can we even trust our own selves to use logic when our dreams talk at night

Where do we go at night in our minds as we wait for sleep to finally arrive

 

 

Is there anyone that we pray for before sleep over takes us and closes our eyes

If we have no family or friends that are trust worthy is that their fault or ours

I pray that we have all have at least one true friend in these days of our lives

I do hope that you are like I in that I have a sweet ball and chain, my bride

When life is full of pain, deceit and lies she is the rib that holds up my smile

I hope that you are like I in that you are blessed with true love before you die

 

 

My Name Is Nod: (About The Garden Of Eden)

Posted on by oldpoet56

OF THE SEVERAL HUNDRED POEMS THAT I HAVE WRITTEN THROUGH THE YEARS THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL FAVORITE.

This is a poem that is designed to make you think, to get you to maybe get the book of Genesis out for another look-see. Maybe, if you are not good at world geography you might want to dig into some maps of the known world of about 5,000 years or so ago. I hope that you enjoy it, quite a bit of research went into making this poem be accurate. Nod is “The Land” that is just east of the Garden of Eden.

Do you know me

Listen, does not the wind whisper

Do not the mountains echo my name

How is it you do not know me

Did not the man Moses lay out the path to my door

For two of your human generations

The Valley of The Garden of God

Was my western door

My Sister, Lake Urmia was fast a sleep

Within her no bounty ever found

As the West Gate of God’s Garden she guarded

Now she is but salty ground

Did not my mountains rumble

And spew forth fire and rocks

How is it you can not find me

Can you not hear the ticking of the clock

Many of your years ago now

One man came forth unto me

Spewed forth from the Garden of God

He came unto me, with a mark upon his head

So all my inhabitants would know

That whosoever dared touch him

Would also soon be dead

The Garden has now so long been gone

It’s land like mine is scorched

The Face of God once again I seek

But when He does once again return

Will He echo my words to you

Child, how is it you do not know me