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Feeling Low

Have you ever felt so low that you could sit on a cigarette paper and dangle your legs? You feel so low that you’ve sunk to the very lowest depth of depression. Why, you would have to look down to see up.

Nothing is right. The sky is not blue enough, and the sun is hung upside down. Food tastes bad, and music is just noise. You have left the blues far above you and reached a new low.

Talking only irritates you during your descent into oblivion and depression. Besides, you wish to wallow alone in your  misery. You are the best pessimist ever created. (Everyone knows a pessimist is simply an optimist who thought of it first.)

Suddenly, you awaken, and a smile breaks the planes of your face as a random thought comes to mind. You were actually only half-low because there’s always whale crap, which is on the bottom of the Ocean!

Smile as you journey onward, my friends.

Ira Stiles

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

I remember Ole Ira Stiles,

Used to come to town now and then,

Spreading warmth with his ear-splittin’ smile,

And, just as suddenly, gone again.

 

Nobody knew where Ira called home;

He seemed to wear all that he owned.

The big friendly smile never left his face,

Except when he bowed his big head in grace.

 

I’m told a certain sweet thing fell in love

With Ira’s big smiles.

When news reached him of the maiden’s whim,

Ira quickly covered some miles.

 

Folks never saw his smiling face again,

But have you ever touched a star or held the wind?

Sometimes I think of “Ole Smiling Ira,”

But I believe his last name was really ‘Mariah.”

 

 

 

 

Timeless

This poem is in Autumn Leaves:

 

Peace be with you,

My thoughts unwind,

But…I knew you elsewhere,

From a distant time.

 

Though it seems but yesterday,

Still it’s been a long, long while,

Something hauntingly familiar,

My thoughts beguile.

 

Memories sometimes lapse,

But time cannot disguise,

I believe it was your smile,

Not your laughing eyes.

 

No words spoken here,

Nor lofty man-made towers.

Simple use of thought exchange —

No clock to chime the hours.

 

Corridors of time are hazy.

Dust covers her ancient fold.

Recollections thwart and tease

In this timeless mold.

 

Pardon my intrusion

Into your hallowed space.

Forgive my poor conclusion,

But…I never forgot your face.

 

Timeless memories the past can blur,

Yet never to erase

Our footprints o’er paths we walked,

Another time…another place.

 

Thoughts we shared, flowers touched,

As we made our way.

Soft words exchanged, feelings passed,

Fragrance lingering where we lay.

 

Enraptured by you still,

Forever I’ll repose.

Would you linger her a while,

My spiritual, timeless rose?

 

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Summer’s Gone

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Strung out and “V’d” against the sky,

They honk out a noisy farewell.

Magnificent sight in early morning’s light,

They’ll fly over hill and dale.

 

No clock or calendar tells them —

Their flight plans long-since laid.

Stroking determined wings in flight, day and night,

Until their journey’s made.

 

Winter’s coming. It’s kind of sad

As they wing their way down south.

They’ll return when the weather warms,

And a smile will again adorn my mouth.

Momma Bear and the Clown

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Momma Bear spoke so softly,

“You know, I’ve seen you around.

I’ve been waiting for someone just like you.

Please, don’t make a sound.”

 

“If you’ll just listen quietly,

I’ll tell you how I feel.

Just look down deep into my eyes.

You’ll see my feeling’s real.”

 

“I know you’re usually laughing,

But I see you’re sad inside.

Because I feel true vibrations,

Emotions you can’t hide.”

 

“Come stay with me for awhile,

And I’ll soothe your aches and pains.

I’ll brighten the spots on your face,

And really make you smile.”

 

The clown looked at Momma Bear,

His heart like pick-up sticks.

Caution weaved through his mind,

‘Cause bears and clowns don’t mix.

 

He gazed into her large brown eyes.

Her love came shining through.

He dwelled languorously there

In limpid pools of sunshine and skies of blue.

 

The end begins here with words,

Yet not a single sound.

Listen carefully to laughter’s merry peals.

Smile — it’s just Momma Bear and her Clown.

 

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