Still Overcoming

My brother John Lewis and his fellow marchers may not have known through how much and for how long we shall overcome but overcome we shall;

The Reverend Martin Luther King may not have known that his dream would still be just a dream for so long, not coming true until all of us make it our reality some how.

Black Lives Matter is a mantra that should not have to be said;
Until it is realized how many of our brothers and sisters must unjustifiably be dead?

White voices matter during this time of our neighbors’ plight;
I will lend you mine, loudly, until together we make this right.

Number 24

A Superstar died on the hillside,
But he did not die there alone;
There are others in the neighborhood,
Whose loved ones did not come home.

His name is synonymous with basketball,
But he did more than just excel at a game;
His contributions to making the world better,
Also contributed to advancing his fame.

Kobe earned and deserved your worship,
Making it feel like you lost a good friend,
But, please, don’t forget those others,
Whose lives, too early, also came to an end.

Good souls attract other good souls,
That helicopter was carrying nine;
Some, still learning the ways of the world,
Others right in the midst of their prime.

The world mourns the loss of a Superstar,
But we know that we lost so much more,
Let your thoughts and prayers reach out to the families of
More than just the Lakers and number twenty-four.

 

Touching You

I like to sleep with my hand touching you throughout the whole night;
I know you say it makes you too warm, but it lets me know that you’re alright;
It assures me you are breathing and still there by my side,
The other thing it does to me, under the covers I can hide.

It’s not a signal that I am amorous; I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable in any way;
It is really just for some security that on you my hand does lay.
I’ll admit that your soft, smooth skin to me feels really fine,
And, I would not be a bit put off if you also touched me back in kind.

I like to sleep with my hand touching you throughout the whole night;
I’ll keep it in a neutral spot until the morning light;
When we wake up in the morning I certainly understand
It is no sign of warning, if you move out from beneath my hand.

His Smile

His smile was my security blanket,
Though never enough did ever I thank it;
His love was the umbrella which kept me comfortably dry
When dark clouds of life, rain upon me, would try.

His hugs rejuvenated me with the energy of a child;
His admonishments, when warranted, were effectively mild;
His kindness was given in quantities overflowing;
His effervescent love for life was constantly showing.

I never felt abandoned or ever alone,
As long as his existence to me was known;
No matter how many miles away I had flown,
His prideful eyes always welcomed me home.

Now, I must bid him a final “goodbye”;
I promised I’d stay strong and try not to cry;
My father to Our Father has transitioned today,
But, in my heart, my Daddy, always will stay.

Tears of Joy

I cried when you said, “I do”;
I cried when the two lines turned blue:
I cried when your water broke;
When our child arrived, I cried and choked.

I cried when her first steps were made;
I cried on her first grade school day;
I cried when she wore a gap and gown;
When she left for college, I wore a frown.

I cried walking her down the aisle;
Through my tears, I could see her smile;
I cried when she made me a Grandfather;
You wiped my tears; I said, “why bother?”

I cried when they told me my end was near;
I cried when I heard, “Daddy, I’m here”;
I want to thank you for all my tears,
I cried from joy throughout the years.

A Child of Mine

I have seen the beauty of a new sunrise,
The beauty in her deep blue eyes;
The beauty of peace here on Earth,
The beauty of my new child’s birth.

I have heard the beauty of a diva’s song,
The beauty of words spoken strong;
The beauty of a mockingbird,
The beauty of my child’s first word.

I have felt the beauty of a strong heartbeat,
The beauty if sand beneath my feet,
The beauty of a new dawn mist,
The beauty of my sweet child’s kiss.

Of all the beauty that I’ve ever seen,
From first to last and in between;
Of all the beauty that I’ve ever heard,
Either spoken or read from written word;
Of all the beauty that I’ve ever felt,
From all the hands that I’ve been dealt;
No beauty will I ever find,
More beautiful than a child of mine.

You Are Not Invisible

I want you to know that you are not invisible,
Though I may not see the you you think I see;
What you may think time has so cleverly disguised,
I still visualize clearly;
What you consider to be disfiguring flaws,
Simply adds to your natural beauty;
You might think you have nothing to offer at all,
Which only enhances your honest sexuality.

You may not have noticed me noticing,
But, I give you more than a sideways glance;
I would peer deeper into that beautiful soul of yours
If only given more than half a chance.
I want you to know that you are not invisible,
Though, at times, it may seem to be;
And, I am sure you are seen by much more desirable men,
Than simple ole silly me.

My Mistakes Do Not Define Me

I am not defined by my mistakes,
Though they do hang around to haunt me;
I’ll forgive myself, whatever it takes,
While echoes of my indiscretions still taunt me.

Failure is an effective teacher
And I her ungrateful student;
I would try to ignore that righteous preacher,
But, to do so would not be very prudent.

You learn much more through trial and error,
Though some errors may often repeat;
Just don’t give in to the prospect of terror
Until the task you successfully complete.

Every success that I have achieved
Was preceded by innocence lost;
I tried again because I still believed,
The experience was such a small cost.

No, my mistakes do not define me
Though they’ve helped make me who I am;
Failure is not my mortal enemy,
Though I battle him again and again.

Someone Else’s Eyes

If you could see the world through someone else’s eyes
Who’s eye would you choose they be?
I might choose the eyes of my critics,
So I could learn to become a better me.

Or, the eyes of a small child
To recapture some of that innocence I have forgot;
The eyes of my lover
Are the eyes I would choose not.

Maybe the eyes of an invalid,
To fill up with empathy;
Or, the eyes of a courageous hero
Some time ago lost to history;

Perhaps the eyes of an artist,
Who in everything sees the beauty;
Or, the eyes of an architect,
Seeing everything in perfect symmetry.

If you could see the world through someone else’s eyes,
Who’s eyes might you select?
If you choose to use my eyes
You would notice that I see you with all due respect.

The Brothers at St. Leonard’s

The brothers attending St. Leonard’s
Would chase us away from their pond;
Either in the summer while we were skinny-dipping,
Or, during the winter as we ice-skated upon.

We could see the pickup truck coming from the seminary,
Bouncing across the cow fields;
With time enough to gather our stuff,
And, successfully, their wrath we would yield.

Never were they able to catch us,
Although, sometimes our paths they might cross
While we walked the trails in the nearby woods,
Always pretending that we were then lost.

They asked if we might know the culprits,
We lied saying we were unawares,
Feeling a little bit guilty
Due to their connections with the Big Guy upstairs.

I walked there to church services on Sundays,
Or the guitar masses on Saturday night;
Never once during a confession,
Did I ever come clean to make this wrong right.

Some of the brothers attending St. Leonard’s,
Were barely much older than I;
I never understood this choice that they made,
Even though many times I did try.

I hope they continued with their calling,
Becoming Priests who are now doing good;
I would apologize for our constant trespassing,
Today, if only I could.