Horizon Dreams

Horizon Dreams

To bed to sleep to retire tonight;

From daily tasks, find some rest.

Close the drapes and tuck the covers tight;

Day is done, sun has gone west.

To work to toil to earn tomorrow

Your due worth for every day,

Plus some for the future to borrow

When no more you earn your pay.

To home to stay to roost to the end;

Life taken at its new pace.

To leisure and ease you now descend;

Longtime patterns to replace.

The children are grown and moved away;

Their lives now their own to choose.

Some moments with you they pause to stay,

But their time, not yours to use.

To need to have no plan to follow;

Your tapestry unravels.

Listless lolling in a deep wallow;

Stay put, no daily travels.

To count not days, but the passing years,

For weeks are full of Sundays.

Go out, old man, and find new frontiers,

Lest you sink into malaise.

Playing Along with the Pro

Playing Along with the Pro

He shoots, he scores;

We rise out of our seats,

Hoot, cheer, and stomp floors

In appreciation of his feats.

He shoots, he misses;

We groan and moan galore,

Booes, catcalls, and hisses

In that heckling roar.

He wins, we pay

To ride upon his shoulders.

His glory, ours today;

Our team, the title holders.

He loses, we pay

To ride upon his back.

His defeat, we say,

Is only his own lack.

Ridiculosity

Ridiculosity

I often strive to be absurd,

Tho' my messages challenge comprehension,

In my wish at least to be heard,

If only as my latest pretension.

I fear to fall short at banal,

Unable to capture others' attention,

To see them flee my teapot squall,

My triteness lacking enough dimension.

I mind not if at me you laugh

With that little note of condescension.

I'll ride bareback on a giraffe

To play on you my specious invention.

I try to wake in you a thought,

Standing brightly apart from convention.

I hope that I will not be caught

When you think of the jest's full extension.

The Old Man and the Young Man

The Old Man and the Young Man

dedicated to Neil Dorans who reminded me of the young man within

Last night, in the playground of my thought,

I met myself strolling on the walk.

We both came pondering puzzles we fought,

But paused in recognition to talk.

“Say, old man, do you remember me?”

I asked the grey-bearded one.

“Oh, do you still dream of what you will be?”

I responded to the young gun.

“Am I happy, am I famous;

Have I lived the life I want?

True to my ideals or aimless,

Off course, and nonchalant?

“I wish to grow and know myself,

To see a better world,

To add knowledge to mankind's shelf,

To see peace's flag unfurled.

“Family and friends of whom I care

Are scheduled in my plan.

Achievement and fun, plenty to share,

As I am you, old man.”

“I have not changed who you become,

Though choice and chance prevail.

I am happy to want what did come,

To have survived life's travail.

“And yet, not all goes as planned,

And our chosen paths diverge.

Life does not bend to youth's command,

And unseen obstacles emerge.

“My lad, be prepared to be surprised,

More and less are yet to come.

Allow ourselves to be advised

By experience-acquired wisdom.”

I looked upon me and I looked back,

Disbelief filled all our eyes.

My life to be I cannot hijack,

Nor life that was likewise.