<BGSOUND SRC="PeggyLee-SentimentalJourney.wav"> Poems

Poems

The Internet Junkie

                 


                Grab my coffee, start my day
                  click on line and i'm away

                  Open my inbox, check my mail
               full of ads that "just can't fail"!
               Get rich quick, make your site sell.

               Sounds so great, I must hear more,
              even though I've heard it all before.
            Yeah You.ve got me, hook-line, & sinker
                guess its why my bank balance
                 ....keeps getting pinker 

               Go to your sites, read those trackers,
               hope like heck there's been no hackers.
           You admaire your work, you think you're a hero,
             until you discover your new hits are a zero.

                Downlines, uplines, links galore,
             search engins FFA's and  so much more
            there's so much to learn, so much to see
             have to take a break....I gotta go "P"!

                 now that i'm back, i just have to say,
         Its good that you can't see me, its better that way.
             My hair is a mess,my clothes are in tatters
                Aren't you glad, none of this matters?

            The hours is late, your vision is blurred
             time to admit it, you need to be cured.
            just one more ad, it can't wait till later.
             I'm just glad i downloaded "gator".

                        my family they miss me
                        They think i'm mislead
                        Mostly they want to see,
                     more than the back of my head 

                       I know that I'm SMART
                        I'm nobody's FLUNKY
                        I'm whatyou call an
                           INTERNET JUNKIE

I Love You

                                 I love  you oh, so very much
                                 I've carved it in a tree
                                 I want to tell the whole wide world
                                 how much you mean to me.
                                 I think my Trusty pocket knife
                                 has made the message plain
                                 and best of all it won't wash off
                                 in case we have some rain.
                                 my love will grow as years  go by 
                                 and when we're old and grey
                                 we can come and look again
                                 at what i've carved today

GROW OLD ALONG WITH ME

     

                      If a am to  grow old,
               I wish with all my heart to do so  gracefully
                    as I walk aoong life's path with you.

                  if I am to discover the true beauty of life,
          I pray that I will partake of this beauty with you by my side.

            If A am to travel a path of fulfilling my destiny in life,
            then i hope from the deepest, most inner part of my being,
        that the path i travel will always be wide enought for you to walk
          along beside me, for I would not want to experiencethese joys
                                  without you.

              And if upon occasion, the path narrows slightly,
               and there is only room for one of us at a time
                   please know that I will follow you
            Trusting that you would never lead me where it wasn't safe,
            that you would never take me to places where I cannot grow,
         that while you lead, you would be incapable of doing anything that
         would deter me from what is right for me, or for us, and the love 
                               which we share

        And should I be the one to temporarily walk out in front along our
         path, please know that I will always be sensitive to your needs.
        I will always travel the paths of encouragement and enlightenment
                       I will never lead you into harm's way,
                         and although i may be in front,
                     I shall always hold my hand out for you,
                   so that we are never far apart in our travels
                   GROW OLD WITH ME,THE BEST IS YET TO BE

VIEW OF HEAVEN

     

                            The view of heaven that i sing
                            is not of angels on the wing.
                            White robed, with harps and golden crown
                            I vision rather little towns,
                            with smogless skies and rivers clear
                            and not an airplane you can hear.
                            No dust, no rust, no rats, no rot,
                            No raucous rock,no potent pot,
                            No growing old with weakened sight,
                            No dentures slipping when you bite
                            No bombs, no guns, no courts, no jails,
                            Where all succeed and no one fails
                            No strikes, no layoffs,full employment
                            And everyone with job  enjoyment.
                            All tell the truth,state only facts,
                            No wars, no debt, no income tax,
                            According to this dream of mine
                            In Heaven no one stands in line
                            and there are only  smiling faces
                            And lots and lots of parking places.

THE COLD WITHIN



                             Six humans trapped by happenstance
                             in bleak and bitter cold.
                             Each one possessed a stick of wood,
                             or so the story's told.

                             Their dying fire in need of logs,
                             The first woman held hers back                 
                             For on the faces around the fire
                             She noticed one was black.

                             The next man looking cross the way
                             saw one not ot his church,
                             And couldn't bring himself to give
                             The fire his stick of birch.

                             The third one sat in tattered clothes
                             He gave his coat a hitch
                             Why should his log be put to use
                             to warm the idle rich?

                             The rich man just sat back and thought
                             Of all the wealth he had in store.
                             and how to keep what he had earned
                             From the lazy poor.

                             The black man's face bespoke revenge,
                             As the fire passed from his sight
                             For all he saw in his stick of wood
                             Was a chance to spite the white.
                         
                             And the last man of the forlone group
                             did naught except for gain.
                             Giving only to those who gave
                             Was how he played the game.

                             The logs held tight in death's still hands
                             Was proof of human sin
                             They didn't die from the cold without
                             They died from the cold within.
 
                                         

©..... W. Edwin Harris