A LONG LOOK AT LIFE, Vol. 1: Prose & Poetry

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The Poems

As I'm sure many writers of poetry have known for ages, relationships with other human beings seem to spawn the majority of verse. I am no exception. Thus Section One's poems have the common theme of "Relationships." Section Two's efforts are mostly observational, hopefully relating to what might be called "common life," in a unique and introspective way. The third set of poems deal with how many of us have tried to deal with -- to cope with -- the stressful variables of life. Written during a span of more than 20 years, I am the first to admit, my poetry ranges from what some might call "elementary" rhymes to longer non-rhyming poems, to short prose. I couldn't change how they poured out from my heart and soul and certainly didn't pause to consider meter or iambic pentameter. That's for critics and academicians.

The Short Stories

In my high school yearbook, it says something like, "He suffered occasionally from a rush of words to the head." That's how some of these short stories came about. One of them, "Pica," was written in one eight hour sitting. Reader beware -- they are not your usual fare.

The Personal Essays

In trying to decide whether to include these in this publication instead of in the one which features my newspaper columns, the criteria was just that. These are personal stories which, while similar to some of my newspaper columns, were not written for that purpose. They are however, stories that refused to remain bottled inside.

I hope you enjoy "A Long Look At Life, Volume 1: Prose and Poetry," and if you find one moment that touches you, encourages thought or discussion, then my words have not only caressed my soul, but stirred yours as well. Thank you for letting me share my look at life with you. Below I've provided a couple of sample poems plus the entire table of contents. If you see a title of interest, drop me a note and I'll share it with you. For other comments, send me an e-mail. To order, click on the Amazon logo. Thanks again.

POEM SAMPLES

LEGACY

What will my legacy be?
How will the world remember me?
Or why should they know at all,
Why should the world recall?
 
It's not as if I've done something great,
Like brought world peace, or crossed home plate.
I've not even fathered a child,
To tell tales of me, both good and wild.
 
But my voice, I feel, still must be heard.
I've something to say, but I can't find the words.
There are no books with my thoughts written down,
But I've seen a lot of life, I've been around.
 
There are hands to hold and prayers to pray,
Why can't I reach out today?
And tell anyone who'll stop and hear,
Of the dangers life holds, the loves, the fears.
 
Why is my voice not above the din,
Of drinkin' and druggin', of evil and sin?
Why can't I say, "Do the right thing?"
Spike Lee made a movie, others choose singing.
 
I want the world, all the people, to be better.
Perhaps I should write the Times a letter.
But what if my message is lost among others.
Why do I care? Why do I bother?
 
I want all to know, there's a better way,
We can live and love together I say.
I should stop in the street and shout it,
But actions like that only make people doubt it.
 
So I'll stick to the written word I guess,
I'll keep trying, I'll do my best.
These words may never leave my desk or shoebox,
But for now, at least, I've shed the locks.
 
I've let out something I need to say,
Writing is good for me that way.
So until the next time I get the urge,
To take pen in hand as I feel the surge.
 
The rush of words from mind, from heart,
My legacy? This is a start.
 
CAPITOL HILL CRONE
 
Scraggly, she shuffles through the streets.
Always against the light. Horns blare.
 
Inside brown paper luggage, her life.
Lawmakers paths, she treads the same.
 
The glowing dome doesn't shine for her.
Hat pulled tight. Gray hair tucked, strands misbehave.
Faded coat, worn and weary, cocoon the crone.
 
Gnarled hands clutch a sack.
Inside a rare treat purchased with infrequent pennies.
Day old bread?
 
Existence, not much more.
Life? Barely.
Tomorrow, the same.
 
Of the people, by the people, for the people.
On the streets, talk is cheap.
 
THE RIVER
Surrounded by silence.
The ripple of water is a constant companion.
And then there's the "distance."
In the distance a faint motor hums.
A dog barks.
Over yonder.
Green limbed towers
border your path.
The quiet is tranquility.
No roar of tires on concrete rivers.
No screeches, no sirens.
The boat motor hums a pleasant tune.
Sun bathing turtles adorn
a brown shell that was once a tree.
Surrounded by silence.
On the river.
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE POEMS
Legacy
RELATIONSHIPS
Eternal Search
One-Sided Love
Someday
Rainbows
Hugs
One Night In Sociology Class
Coming Home
Love Is a Four-Letter Word
More Than
Discovering You, Discovering Me
Young Fool
Eye To Eye Contact
Innocent of Innocence
He Who Hesitates Does Without
Cold Shoulder
If Looks Could Kill
To Bee or Not to Bee?
Beverly's Smile
Beverly's Love -- Reciprocated
The Shadow Knows
The Complete Package
A "Royal" Anniversary
Helping Hand
Dad's Birthday
Key Chain
OBSERVATIONS
Capitol Hill Crone
Waking Up
Hallelujah, Colonel Sanders
Convention
One Win Shy
Regular Army
Patience
The River
Red Light Nights (D.C., 14th St.)
Lightning
COPING
Sometimes the Words Won't Flow
The Real Experience
28 Days In Paradise
Pressure
The State of Loneliness
What Once Was
Two Losers
Death Year, 1992
New Year, Old Grief
God Has A Plan
THE SHORT STORIES
Dialogue In A Dark Alley
Sob Shoppe
Pica
THE PERSONAL ESSAYS
Gramps
On The Inside
The Winning Edge

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