Poetry

Stupid Cupid

Daily Prompt: Cupid’s Arrow

Valentine’s Day is incredibly stupid

From the calendar it should be excluded

Love has no special day

For being good in every way

And similarly no need for a Cupid

Ever So

ever so mild

ever so neat

ever so kind

ever so sweet

ever so humble

ever so fair

ever so modest

ever so there

ever so glowing

ever so strong

ever so vital

ever so mom

ever so happy

ever so kissed

ever so loving

ever so missed

Simple Regrets

Lay your head upon my chest
And listen to my heart
Feel the tears from my eyes
Promise we never part

Hold tight my trembling hand
Never let it go
These are things that comfort me
Keep my life aglow

Tell me things that I can do
To make your life whole
If it’s solitude you want
I will sadly go.

Time, place, and curious things
Which we don’t expect
Don’t let them selfishly pass
And live life with regret

Rainmaker

Rainmaker rainmaker where are you now?
Took all our money, skipped out of town
Promised us
Peace and trust
You were nothing more than a clown
Many got busted
In you they trusted
But you let us down

Rainmaker rainmaker where did you go?
Snatched all our bread, only got the show
We bought your songs
We were strung along
Got rich from another man’s woe
A terrible wrong
It’s good you’re gone
How could you be so low?

Rainmaker! Got a place in history?
You got rich on a young man’s misery
You defied the heat
And called for defeat
You had gall to claim victory
Your smile was sweet
A Pied Piper’s beat
Nothing more than thievery.

Rainmaker! We were duped by your rhyme
You became rich on another man’s dime
We let you judge
I hold a grudge
Spun your tale, fed us a line
But not for the blood
Those dead in the mud
You’d never existed in time.

Ode to Vietnam
(Wrote this in the 60′s. It’s a little raw, but weren’t we all?)

Sweet Jesus hear my psalm
Don’t want to go to Vietnam
Don’t want to die in the mud
While LBJ soakin’ in a tub
Don’t want to die in a paddy of rice
Just give me hard liquor and rollin’ dice

Sweet Jesus hear my psalm
Don’t want to go to Vietnam
Don’t want to protest cause a fuss
No VC sent me to the back of the bus
Social reforms and protest songs
None can change or right this wrong

Sweet Jesus hear my prayer
This here war just ain’t fair
Can’t buy whiskey or bottle of wine
Too young to vote, but not to die
Babies cryin’ Mamas weep
What we sow is what we reap

Sweet Jesus hear me cry
Viet Nam is no place to die
Ninety miles per hour into a stump
Is better than a grenade in the gut
Doin’ what I love the way for me
Not sniper fire from a tree

Sweet Jesus hear my plea
Viet Nam is no place for me
If it’s possible please pass me by
And why not send the other guy
Ain’t no hero for Uncle Sam
Just keep me free from Vietnam

Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus you heard my wail
Busted for weed and I’m sittin’ in jail
Lord sure worked a mysterious way
Proves to me we should always pray
The next favor I hope is not too large
Out of the army an honorable discharge

THE OLD SONG BOOK

Kind of hate to see that old song book go
Didn’t sing so good out of it
In fact I thought at any minute the person next to me might be accidentally struck by a bolt of lightening meant for me – yeah my singing was that bad
I used that old song book to mark my territory and save seats at conventions, assemblies, at the Kingdom Hall
Held it over my head to keep my hair dry on a half mile walk to the Pontiac Silver Dome (don’t miss that place)
I wore two of them out on my kids’ heads and backsides They were in school before they knew those were song books
Used it once to cover a rust hole in the floor board of ’72 Vega
I remember some older sister trying’ to wrestle one away from me She won, but gave it back because it wasn’t large print
Had a song book in my meeting bag for years that belonged to somebody from El Segundo, California – never been there, never knew anybody from there, just had a song book from there, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get rid of it Tried to give it away, leave it behind, turn it in to lost and found, put it through the chipper, finally it just disappeared Got a feeling it’s out there – somewhere.
Seen them held together with duct tape, staples, glue, spit, rubber bands, baling wire, screws, C – clamps, and shear determination and force of will
Seen brothers and sisters with those real fancy leather bound ones They still don’t sing any better, but they sure did look good
There’s going to be some songs I miss, but then again some were so hard to sing it gave me a headache I think I gave others a headache too
I remember the song we sang after the meeting when Harry died – it took on a whole different meaning after that
There was the song we song after we decided to build a new Kingdom Hall It was a good thing because we nearly sung the old Hall down
Then there was that song that sounded like it should have been played in some Baptists church or some old lady’s parlor Never liked it, but I’ll certainly miss it
Then there were those songs that is best suited for babies to cry to  I remember little tykes just making up words as they sang along – adults doing it too
There were songs that made me happy no matter how bad a mood I was in
There were songs that made me tear up for no particular reason
I remember the sister who played piano for us  She looked at the clock to see how much time was left – that determined the tempo
There were songs that make think of my Dad and Mom – how much I want to see them in God’s new earth
There are songs that when sung I can see my children as youngsters and my wife with them
There were songs that I just stopped singing because it made me think so hard on paradise
There were songs that made me examine myself and be a kinder person
Some lifted my spirits and I sang it and hummed it for the next three days
There were sisters’ voices that sounded like a choir of angels and brothers who sounded as if ready for battle
There were sisters voices that sounded like a herd of cats tied to the bumper of a get-away car
And brothers who sounded like they were a gang of drunk Russian sailors singing a dirge at a funeral (no offense to drunk Russian Sailors.)
There were those songs that were special
As my family was growing up we gave each other a smile and wink at certain songs – still do when we get together and when they’re not with me I still smile and wink
I remember singing the wrong words to the music being played
I remember singing the wrong verse and everybody looking at me
Then there was the Pioneer Day – you talk about singing – that old song book never had it so good
Those old song books could patch a roof, stop a bullet, choke a horse, or mend a boiler plate – or a broken heart
That old song book reminds me of friends – old and new, far and near
That old song book sure has a lot of good memories,
but I suspect the new one will too.

Hilltop

She stood alone at midnight
A strong breeze passed through her hair
High upon a hilltop
Her heart was pure and fair

She looked beyond the dark
And hoped for better days
Cast her eyes to stars above
And offered a tearful gaze

Time heals not wounds that she has
The pain seems to stay
She merely holds it in her heart
Hope tears to wash it away

The look that’s in her green eyes
A young lass of years ago
Full of life and laughter
Her spirit still aglow

She stands astride the hilltop
Above a valley green
Waiting for the daylight
To see what is unseen

She hears the sheep she fed
Two daughters and a son
Grazing in the green below
Also their little ones

They see her on the hilltop
Keeping watch over them
Desperate to hold and keep safe
To protect both life and limb

Intense are her maternal instincts
She strains with all her might
To protect all her dear ones
The hilltop alone at midnight

She stood alone at midnight
A strong breeze passed through her hair
High upon a hilltop
She uttered an earnest prayer

Lessons Learned

I see all their faces
Afresh and aglow
In crowded hallways
So long ago

We were all equal
To some degree
Of being oblivious
And overly naive

I remember them all
As if yesterday
When life was light
Little in the way

Hopeful hearts
We all possessed
A time for jokesters
Not the depressed

We were all sincere
Or wanted to be
We had little clue
Of existing reality

Had our first loves
And broken hearts too
Sometimes the hero
More often the fool

Shielded by parents
And teachers alike
Books and learning
Held life like a dike

All a special place
In my heart
For being with me
At the start

Wiggle Waggle

A wiggle waggle of the tongue
A little gossip has spun
Words that pass beyond the lips
Captured not by ropes or nets

In the ear they cause much pain
Forever captured by the brain
Hurtful schemes and great boasts
Who is hated and who is most

No escape for thoughtless words
Thrust to the heart like a sword
Bleeding wound that can not heal
Meant only to hurt never to kill

Often my words I wanted to restrict
Until I had better words to pick
A tongue does not feel nor does ponder
Evidence is it schemes and conjures

Some just call it thoughtless speech
Ruins lives and friendships breach
A wiggle waggle of the tongue
See what hurt has been done

Springtime, Lima, Ohio

Snow turns to slush quite surprisingly you see
Dead grass of winter turns bright fresh and green
The playground at Longfellow is ’bout to become
Elation for all, spring training for some

As if coquettish girls tease boys on a string
Cold winter one day, the next day it’s spring
Rupert’s flowers are first through the soil to peep
The frogs on the river sing you to sleep

Pent energy burst forth from a winter of repose
Ole man Williams has the first lawn mowed
Kids and playful adults in fields flying their kites
Can not wait to see the first rag top ride

The cherry tree blossoming at Loecher’s home
Flowers will smell like a rich lady’s cologne
Muddy waters swiftly move down the river
Rinse away rubbish from the past winter

The first line is forming at Lee’s Dairy Stand
First taste of custard sweet creamy and grand
You want the best hand dipped ice cream of all
El Dora ice cream not tasted since fall

Ole Lima awaken from your long winter snooze
A fresh outlook and direction to choose
Kick off covers of winter blahs, leap from bed
Spring is for the hope of what lies ahead

Summer In Lima

Baseball diamonds, backyards, or streets
Cracking bats, popping gloves, clacking cleats
Dust cloud heavenward flies, second base slide
Runner was safe, the throw was too high

Parents scream their kids have been burned
The umpire’s call undaunted and unturned
One team is unhappy, trudges home in despair
The other is jubilant, tossing hats in the air

A lesson well learned, oft time to be repeated
One has triumphed and one is defeated
At least in Lima we all had our chance
To be a spectator or join in the dance

Fast pitch softball, diamond number two
Beatty and Mitchell in grand pitching duel
Beatty left in the fourth knee twisted and bum
Mitchell the win – his fastball sizzled and hummed

Sweaty and restless covered only by a sheet
Waiting for a cool breeze to take the heat
Crickets chirp, the screen June Bugs clings
Mosquitoes buzzing for blood to glean

Before the sun peeks above the distant crest
Birds alive all from their nightly rest
The bus makes its first run of the day
Clipity clop of the dairy wagon coming our way

In a matter of moments the city comes alive
Men slamming car doors, to work they drive
A screen door squeaks open and then slams shut
Kids are joyfully playing and the bark of a mutt

Mrs. Garza hangs white sheets on the line
Struggles with the flapping, wins the fight
Smell of bacon from the Parker’s kitchen
Ole man Jacobs rocks chewin’ and spitin’

Summer heat gotten to the Gross’s again
Little Ricky’s been spanked, Bobby stays in
Ginger Malone basks a tan to accomplish
Like a plate of lobster with little garnish

Martin kids through the sprinkler to cool down
Street repairs a jack hammer’s rhythmic pound
Mrs. Cooper in a bonnet weeding her garden
McPherson’s poured driveway starting to harden

The Lester’s lilac bush fragrant and bracing
Joe and Jesse whiz on their bikes a racing
Joe fails to negotiate a critical obstruction
Lester’s lilacs are reduced to destruction

Sun sets early, the trill of cicadas are loud
Summer about over and spirits are down
How was summer measured, filled with mirth?
Perhaps little occurred nothing but dearth
Summer languishes, a prisoner’s walk of death
Regrets for some not giving it their best
Summer alas has come to its end
A certain emptiness like losing a friend

Song ‘A’ Four

I was tired, traveled, and troubled
When I rolled into that dusty town
Needed some filler for my stomach
And something to wash it down

Walked into a lonely dingy diner
Man at the counter, waitress, and cook
They smiled and greeted me kindly
All characters from a Steinbeck book

The waitress suggested the daily special
Swiss steak, taters, and succotash
“I’ll have my corn with no Lima Beans
And I’ll be taken them taters mashed”

Before the coffee cooled to sip
My meal was slid in front of me
I needed a little juke box music now
Dropped a dime and selected ‘B’ three

Waitress said, “ya got another comin’
And I hope that ya’ll don’t mind
But can ya also punch ‘A’ four
It happens to be a favorite of mine”

I listened to my music
My mood wasn’t helped that much
Rock and roll ain’t for troubles
Nor a dingy diner lunch

She said, “I couldn’t help but notice
Ya look a little down in the mouth
Every time I play ‘A’ Four
All my troubles travel south”

After my song was over
‘A’ four began to play
The waitress, man, and cook
Joined in three part harmony

“Come on up and join in
It’s easy to sing with us”
I wrapped my arms around them
And joined them at the chorus

When I left that dusty diner
And headed east outside of town
I took a golden memory
And laid my troubles down

I don’t remember the words
Nor the title of that song
I just remember the joy we had
Of harmony and singing along

The memory of their voices
I carried with me from yore
Of that dusty town in Oklahoma
And a song known only as ‘A’ four

Travels With Ole Duke

Train whistles echoed across corn fields at midnight
Ole dog Duke barked at coons in the moonlight
Come along ole Duke the train is going faster
What is a dog if he don’t have his master

I’ll show you a world that you will never see
If you stay at home and don’t come with me
My mind hopped that midnight freight train
Took me and ole Duke to the far cost of Maine

We saw Great Lakes from open boxcar doors
Heard Atlantic waves against the rocky shores
Passed along side many a raging river and falls
Heard the screech of a barn owls, soaring seagulls

Lifted my tired head to see snow capped peaks
Walked the walled canyons of New York streets
Saw comets streak across clear western skies
Heard a lonely wolf on a hilltop cry

Felt the prairie winds brush past my face
Fresh mowed hay, a wild berry’s taste
Cupped cold water from a clear mountain spring
Blackbirds, Meadowlarks, and Robins sing

Took a west bound to a blue Pacific beach
Saw distant silver plains just beyond my reach
We felt the dry heat of parched desert lands
And played on the beach of Galveston’s sands

Mighty mountains from the earth they leaped
Fields of golden grain about to be reaped
Gentle green slopes and valleys deep
Soft green meadows and mountains steep

Ole Duke was with me every step of the way
Through storms, dangers, and times of play
Through wind, rain, and snow, heat, or fog
What now is a master without his dog

As long as I have will and imagination
There’s plenty to see on my midnight vacations
Come on ole Duke we got some places to see
Let’s hop that midnight freight just you and me

There’s plenty to see and more places to go
When I hear that freight train’s whistle blow
Ole Duke’s long gone but memories remain
Of our midnight rides on distant freight trains

Adrift

Alone at sea without any lights
So peaceful, tranquil, nothing to fright
A rudderless ship my thoughts adrift
My mind a net my conscience to sift
Both good and bad views, words, and deeds
Examined separated, some cast back to sea
What few oysters I manage to find
I dig out the pearl and call it mine

Fools only go to sea with no rudder astern
At the mercy of the wind and waves they turn
A wave casts me high to search all about
Suddenly in swells surrounded by doubt
If only a rudder for my steady hand
Sail the waves, find a safe harbor at land
If the conscience were a guide so great
I’d need not a rudder to make my escape

Where is that pearl that I did call mine
But, pearls are useless to dog and swine
How could I put myself in such a mess
To sail the sea in a ship that’s rudderless
How could I allow my thoughts to be driven
Any view, word, and deed randomly arisen
I can quickly calm this turbulent sea
It’s all in my mind, it’s all up to me

Lulu Leroy

He was twenty miles from Mobile
Trudging up a big hill
Growing to man from a boy
Saw a dirty faced beauty
Walkin’ free bound to no duty
Introduced herself as Lulu Leroy

She carried an old six string
Showed him how she could sing
Said she wanted to be a star
He said, “sister if ya will
Let’s both hitchhike to Nashville
Show them how you sing and play that guitar”

Every honky-tonk and dive in town
She laid her music down
And nobody seemed to catch on
Producers didn’t like her music
Weren’t crazy for acoustics
After six weeks they was gone

Hopped a train north to Chicago
Slept with tramps, bums, and hobos
Tried her style in bars and clubs
Got paid nothin’ but chicken feed
And hand outs on corners and streets
Not enough for rent or grub

They slept in the tall grass
West of Topeka Kansas
Her love brought him such joy
She sung a song about him
He was one of many men
Who had the love of Lulu Leroy

She had an Uncle Jim in Fresno
At least that’s what she said so
She was getting itchy and restless
Gave her money to go westbound
She got aboard the next Greyhound
Waved good bye from the back of the bus

He headed on north to Fargo
Worked fields where the wind blows
Couldn’t get that girl out of his mind
Cut timber in the Yukon
Oil rigs in Saskatchewan
Looking for something he couldn’t find

After five years he went to Fresno
To find Uncle Jim cause she said so
Found him with a little boy
His hair was black and wild
The way he looked as a little child
This was his son and Lulu Leroy’s

Uncle Jim took him on a short ride
To grave upon the hillside
Where there was no tears of joy
He stood broken and alone
And read from the simple headstone
Here lies Lulu Leroy

He raised me not to wander
Be afraid of wind and thunder
To build on life and not destroy
Three graves upon a hillside
That’s where they all reside
Uncle Jim, Daddy, and Lulu Leroy

(This poem is about an army buddy from basic training in 1966. I found out about his death in August of 2007.  He was killed in Viet Nam February of 1968.)

David G. Lupien

By Kenton Lewis

David G. Lupien was in basic training with me
He never had a chance to live and see
Children and grandchildren held on his knee
To have what I’ve had and happened to be

At the age of twenty he died alone
In a place that is foreign and far from home
For a logic and a reason he did not know
Brave and naive he volunteered to go

I looked upon his photo and saw
The boy I once knew and fondly recalled
His name now appears upon a granite wall
To be seen and remembered by friends and all

Those who knew him will also pass away
The photo and wall are here to stay
But those who come and silently pray
Never heard his voice or words he did say

Like so many his life was troubled and brief
Future and glory stolen like a thief
Possibilities were quenched also belief
By those who ordered him to the grave beneath

Nobody knows what could have been
Nor do we know who, why, or when
Memories are all we have from within
Of boys we once knew and died as men
Many have died for rights to defend
Why did it have to be my friend
Many have died for the life of another
Why did it have to be my brother
Many have died to conquer what’s bad
Why did it have to be my dad
Many have died for the glory of one
Why did it have to be my son
Many have died for the flight of the dove
Why must it be my own sweet love
Many have died to reap what is sown
The ones who died are never unknown
In God’s memory they patiently sleep
To be awakened to life that is replete
On God’s new earth to suddenly discover
Laughing and joking with my long lost brother
On God’s new earth when the day is done
I can sit and relax with my long lost son
On God’s new earth once again I’ll depend
The help and support of my long lost friend
On God’s new earth I’ll be the proud lad
The one I hardly knew, my long lost dad
On God’s new earth like hand in glove
I’ll stroll again with my long lost love

Memories, photos, and walls will fade
In God’s memory we are all kept safe
In a land far away he gave his last breath
Without loved ones passed from life to death
I hope to see my ole barracks buddy again.
And shake the hand of David G. Lupien.

Adrift

By Kenton Lewis

Alone at sea without any lights
So peaceful, tranquil, nothing to fright
A rudderless ship my thoughts adrift
My mind a net my conscience to sift
Both good and bad views, words, and deeds
Examined separated, some cast back to sea
What few oysters I manage to find
I dig out the pearl and call it mine

Fools only go to sea with no rudder astern
At the mercy of the wind and waves they turn
A wave casts me high to search all about
Suddenly in swells surrounded by doubt
If only a rudder for my steady hand
Sail the waves, find a safe harbor at land
If the conscience were a guide so great
I’d need not a rudder to make my escape

Where is that pearl that I did call mine
But, pearls are useless to dog and swine
How could I put myself in such a mess
To sail the sea in a ship that’s rudderless
How could I allow my thoughts to be driven
Any view, word, and deed randomly arisen
I can quickly calm this turbulent sea
It’s all in my mind, it’s all up to me

My Town

A great place to be raised and live
To reach potential and be a kid
Streets and neighborhoods safe and clean
Garbage, trash, and refuge not seen

Quiet, respectful all people took pride
Families, homes, both in and outside
Every family respected rights of neighbors
Live, play, enjoy the fruits of their labors

Bustling neighborhood streets draped with trees
Rocking on porches, a cool summer breeze
The song of a robin the squawk of a jay
Wind through the trees and children at play

Every neighborhood having its own little store
With pop, candy, ice cream, and much more
Each store had its particular bouquet
Meats, vegetables, fruits, goodies on display

A place to collect and hear all the latest
Gossip, stories, jokes clean and tasteless
In our neighborhood the place to meet
Sonny’s east of the tracks on High Street
Karen Lester caught necking Bobby McCoy
His reputation continues, hers was destroyed
Uncle Joe just beat his second – no third wife
Backed him to the wall with a sharp butcher’s knife

Henderson’s got their second shut-off notice
That’s what little Donnie Brooks just told us
Mrs. White has not been seen in two weeks
Mr. White purchased lye soap and bleach

Lora Malone is bulging, gaining weight again
Note Wednesdays where the milk man has been
Harper’s ole man got a raise and will soon display
For all to envy his brand new Chevrolet.

Pete Finigan’s mysterious infection is back
Rita Wilcox is married to her cousin Zack
The guy peeping through widows at night
Is the school janitor so quiet and polite
All are rumors not one swears are true
But so much evidence and testimony too
People in the neighborhood quietly go forth
Providing much fodder for idle discourse

12 responses to “Poetry

  1. inkspeare

    Re – David D Lupien poem – A beautiful piece written with your heart, and sad that he died so young.

  2. The David G. Lupien poem is beautiful and powerful. It really personalizes something like the Vietnam Memorial – each name a person like him and it goes on forever – so sad. I also love “Song ‘A’ Four” – it really shows the positive effects people can have on each other and the Steinbeck reference made me smile.

  3. Beautiful. Truly beautiful work. Thank you so much for sharing yourself. :)

  4. WE love your poems. Very beautiful. Thank you for sharing them on this blog. Enjoy reading your posts too – very interesting!
    Ps Love your name – I find goats can be jittery if I creep behind them and shout boo! teehee Monkey x

  5. Very inspiring and beautiful :) . I am especially fond of Ode to Vietnam and David G. Lupien. Both are powerful, and raw.

  6. I’ve just recently started writing poems for my son. I hope to learn from you.

  7. Lovely poems . Keep writing!!!

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