Poem: Counting Daisies

counting daisies
in a field of daisies
is like counting
blades of grass
in a square yard
is like counting
midnight stars
with no clouds
is like counting
purple cars
in a frozen city

 
but not like counting
your few friends
among your many acquaintances

Poetry: My view (true story)

your wrinkles are deeper
crepe skin on your arms
you stretch and ache
no pills ever work
your eyes of pain
or is that wisdom
a mixture of both
are you content
friendly while out
looking so happy
tucked in at home
you’re sullen and blue
that’s a glass on the wall
that’s my view in the mirror

Taken 6:15 on 9-10-16 throught the mirror

Poetry: Dad (true story)

he was much taller
towering over me
closely behind him
in his foot steps
taught me to work hard
taught me to eat good
taught me to play right
closely behind him
in his foot steps
learned how to drive
at a young age
learned how to drink
like a funnel
closely behind him
in his foot steps

he walked in the garden
slue footed was he
stepping in his foot prints
slue footed would be me
died of liver cancer
drank himself to death
closely behind him
in his foot steps

he never stopped drinking
till it caught up to him
dad died drunk at 58
brother died drunk at 30
my sons started drinking
closely behind me
in my foot steps
stop the bleeding
quit drinking at 35
my own foot steps at 62

Jamie, Bandit and Billy in 2005