Lightning Bugs in a Jar

A Poetic Average Joe

Some are written to tug at heart strings;
Some are written to tickle the funny bone;
Some are written as romantic love themes;
Some are written about being alone.

Diversity is my objective;
Creativity, my artistic aim;
I am just your regular, average Joe,
With no credentials or writing fame.

I hide behind the mantra
That I write simply to please myself;
Not admitting out loud to anyone,
Dreams of poems adding to my wealth.

There are many others out there
Who behave just like me;
Pouring our souls into rhyming words
And calling it poetry.

Very few will be successful
Or achieve such wide acclaim,
But lacking this recognition
We’ll keep writing just the same.

So I’ll keep creating average poems,
By a regular, average Joe,
And hang on to my day job,
But, of my dream, I won’t let go.

My Rescued Heart

The sun has shined brighter ever since that day
Destiny made our paths cross
I was stunned to find out I could feel this way
My cynicism about love was lost
The shadows wherein my heart did lay
Due to failed love I so often saw
Melted in the brightness you sent my way
Proving its darkness a terrible flaw
Just because others have loved and failed
Didn’t mean it would happen to me
I knew the moment I saw you love would prevail
For the rest of my eternity

From a cynical world that was lonely and dark
Your aura, so bright, has rescued my heart

Take Aways

You can take away my job
Another line of work I will find
You can take away my hair
Going bald I really don’t mind
You can take away my friends
I am comfortable all alone
You can take away my gadgets
I have no use for a cell phone

You can take away my memories
My past is best forgot
You can take away my possessions
I really don’t have a lot
You can take away my money
I will live a beggar’s life
I could get used to no more nagging, so
You can take away my wife

You can take away my sight
For I can still see without my eyes
You can take away my wardrobe
I like being naked, no surprise
You can take away my house
With a shopping cart I will roam
But you cannot take away my words
I’ve secured them in my poems

The Battle Between Evil and Good

The battle between evil and good rages inside us all;
Seeds of sin and generosity are planted deep within;
Our moral compass will determine which way we fall.

The path we tread is not predetermined by a genetic law;
Each of us face the same temptations of good and sin;
The battle between evil and good rages inside us all.

This dichotomy is not the result of any particular flaw;
Our environment and guidance we get influences where we begin;
Our moral compass will determine which way we fall.

Sometimes the good and evil get passed around like a ball,
As we try each out to help determine where we might fit in;
The battle between evil and good rages inside us all.

Our capacity to win this battle depends upon us all
Helping each other with their own battle to win;
Our moral compass will determine which way we fall.

So understand if in your brother evil you saw,
He has not yet conquered the bad seed planted within;
The battle between evil and good rages inside us all;
Our moral compass will determine which way we fall.

Proud of My Journey Through Life

On my journey through life
I carry with me, pride;
Keeping it under control
With some humility on the side.

I am proud of my heritage,
And those who’s last name that I share;
My parents and my siblings
All helped to get me here.

I am proud of my children,
And the adults they’ve become;
And proud of my grandchildren
With whom I’ll have much fun.

I am proud of my accomplishments,
As limited as they may be;
I found they were sufficient enough
To provide for my family.

I am proud of these poems I write,
Though they may lack artistic flare;
I am even proud of the simple fact
That, gracefully, I lost my hair.

And I find now that my life’s journey
Is beginning to near it’s end,
The pride doesn’t start to fade –
It only gets deepened.

So please don’t think of me
As being arrogant;
But, I am proud of my journey through life
And how my time was spent.

Simply Said

Love poems are written
By better men than I
I am not that outside-your-window
Serenading kind’a guy

My proposal wasn’t offered
Bent down upon one knee
Romantic sonnets I cannot read
I trip up on the word “thee”

But romance is not foreign
In the heart of this old man
Although showing it extemporaneously
May be out of my command

I am hopeful that with three little words
My romantic side can shine through
As I look you straight in the eye
And simply say, “I love you”

Empty Mailboxes

The empty mailbox used to sit
Outside our houses by the road;
Now it’s on our PC’s
And can hold a larger load.

Instead of visiting it once each day,
Hopeful of mail there to find,
We check it now, every hour;
It plays games with our minds.

The disappointment used to be
When bills were all we got;
Now we weed through piles of spam,
But what we want – we find not.

Replies can come instantly,
Instead of having to wait a week;
Yet I do not see what I’m waiting for
Every other minute I take a peek.

They say that technology
Is an advancement for mankind;
I think that it being an anchor
In the end is what they’ll find.

So instead of sitting here checking my mail,
Hopeful of that email you might send,
I am turning off my PC
And getting off of my rear end.

Instead I’ll take a nice long walk
Down my driveway that never ends,
And say hello to a once, dear pal,
The empty mailbox, my old friend.

Reaching the Lighthouse

As I was walking along the beach,
With a song in my heart and void of despair,
I spied a lighthouse that seemed in reach;
And decided to walk all the way there.

Along the way I met a child,
And wondered what the matter could be?
He was sitting alone and crying out loud;
Then I noticed, that little boy was me.

“You are close to your lighthouse”, he said
“And have left me far behind.
The innocence and joy you had when you were me
Have long ago left your mind.”

“Then walk with me, boy, the rest of the way;
I would love your company.
We can reminisce about the olden days
And you can once again become part of me.”

As we traveled on, we met a young man,
Who looked lost and was wandering around;
We recognized that, again, he was I
He said, “I’m glad that me you have found.”

“Do you remember how lost we were,
When adulthood we first met?
It was before you gained your confidence
And hadn’t achieved success yet?”

“I have forgotten those long ago days
But join us and refresh my mind.
Before we reach that distant lighthouse
I think it important these memories I find.”

Just before we reached the lighthouse
There was a man old and gray
I realized that he was a reflection of me
Exactly the way I looked that day.

“I’m glad you stopped and gathered our friends
Before the lighthouse we did reach;
You know that this represents our end
And now we must leave the beach?”

“Yes, thank you for waiting on us
I should never have left them alone
But now we are back together
So the lighthouse can become our home.”

Suburban Affairs

As she watched him walk out the bedroom door,
she still clenched the white sheets now soaked in their sweat.

She didn’t have the energy to join him in the quick, hot shower –
which was just as well,
because she wasn’t ready to wash his aroma off her naked body.

She smiled, watching his shapely ass walk out the door once again;
then the tears started forming, as they always did at this time.

She heard the front door close;
his car engine start;
and, the wheels backing out of the gravel driveway.

She felt him dripping out from between her legs
as he drove on down the street.

She wondered what lie he would tell his wife as an excuse for being late once again.
She wondered what lie she would tell herself for letting him in her bedroom once again.

Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to wash his aroma off of her.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror and said, “No more.”
“I cannot continue to allow this to happen.”
“It isn’t fair to me … It isn’t fair to her … It isn’t fair… ”
“No more!”

She stepped into the shower determined to wash him away.
Instead, however, the warm water and lathered hands
relived the memory of his touch,
his caresses
and his unbridled passion.

She sank to the floor as the shower sprayed down on her exhausted body,
angry at herself for knowing this would happen again.

Ten miles away, his car pulled into a driveway …
just as the gardener slipped out the back door and his wife hurriedly got dressed.