May 11th, 2014
This is a poem I wrote while thinking of Mom.
I Remember you
You're the one who gave me life, and nursed me at your breast.
You rocked me softly in your arms, and laid me gently down to rest.
You stood by me during my illness, when I struggled just to breathe.
You were my guardian angel, and I knew you would never leave.
When I rode a wild stick horse, or played in the shade of our tree,
I did not see you with my eyes, yet felt you watching over me.
You supported me with your love, and with the labor of your hands,
I never stopped to Thank-you, Mom; I was busy with my own plans.
I was thoughtless in my adolescence, but I'm thinking of all you do.
I recall your life of devotion, and Mama, I Remember You.
September 4th, 2012
This is a poem I wrote many years ago
after the death of my father. I was in
despear, but time heals the pain.
Searching, searching, but never finding
A friend who is understanding.
Some men plead for things they need,
And others are so demanding.
Where is my father, where is my friend,
To listen to my despair.
I search every place for a warm loving face,
But no one seems to be there.
In younger years when life was sweet,
We were keepers of our brothers.
Now things move fast and never last,
And we can't be bothered by others.
Strangers pass, but never care,
About the problems that each might face.
With hearts of stone, they walk alone,
Just members of the human rat race.
Where are we going, where are we now,
And tell where have we been.
Searching forever, but finding it never,
A place in this world to begin.
September 4th, 2012
The Carousel ride
by Gene Gregory
The lad stood in line, purchased his ticket, and climbed on the carrousel.
He mounted his steed with high expectation, and waved a fond farewell.
Passing the crowd, he saw the obese lady, and a dwarf who gave him a glance.
A tattooed man, and sad faced clown, was doing a sorrowful dance.
Around he rode, and around and around, and the sites were all the same.
They stared at him through hollow faces, and no one knew his name.
He tired of his journey, for it had not brought the promise it had shown.
Under spinning skies, and through dizzy eyes, he saw the sad clown dance on.
When will I get there,Ħħ the anxious boy wondered, when will I ever arrive?
When will I reach that place of bliss, and be happy just being alive?
He rode through the masses time and again; yet felt that he was alone.
The sun shone warmly, the sky a soft blue, but the sad little clown danced on.
Then like a flash, it came to the lad, It's not just my long journeys end!
It's the ride I am taking, the friends I am making, and a chance to go round again!
It's a marvelous day in every way, as the wind gently touches my hair!
I think I shall sing, and grab the Gold Ring! The clown laughed & leaped in the air!
August 10th, 2009
This is a poem I wrote a few years ago
that says a lot about how I feel about painting.
Let me paint
When life has taken its toll
And I'm but a shell of a man,
God give me at least one good eye,
And a steady, deliberate hand.
When this body grows weak,
And my very heart is faint,
Give me the power to grasp a brush,
And give me the strength to paint.
When my days on earth are few,
And I have completed all my toils,
Lead me closer to God,
And surround me with my oils.
When I have passed from life,
And perhaps strolling with a saint,
I'll be inspired by streets of gold,
So Lord, please let me paint.