Pedestrian Poet

Nursing a dream he holds inside
He softly assays the now,
Toiling pedestrian in stride
As circumstances allow.

He peddles wares in middling ways,
Patrons served largely by rote,
Cogitating,"One of these days,
My name will be one of note."

Hopeful, but resigned to the now
He smiles, observant and sure,
Chipmunking the details of "how,"
Preserving the moments pure.

Mechanically moving through days,
Observing subtle detail,
He sees things in radiant ways:
Lives that succeed and fail.

Not once does the poet conceive
He's not fated for success,
Yet until that fateful reprieve,
He toils under such duress.

Anonymous soul, simply "him,"
The genius we've not yet met,
Often composing on a whim,
A talent we'd not forget

And when night falls he sleeps so sound,
Wrapped in this dream held so tight;
He knows one day he'll be unbound:
One day he will get to write.

For all of you aspiring poets out there. :)

Snoopy Dance

Wanting what you cannot have
Wastes all your time in doubles,
Time itself is simply salve,
And not the source of troubles.

Shake your vision, grow a dream
Hope to make it something more
Carry out a grander scheme
Dance and love from shore to shore.

Laugh with friends until you cry
Breathe in deep each meadow green
Sing your babe a lullaby
Write a verse of all you've seen.

Spend your days in utter joy
Drink your gin without vermouth
Wiser words were never writ:
Life well lived means more than youth.

Gramma's Chair

Unadorned, it silently sits
Yearning for days that will not come.
None left possess a soul that it fits—
None to its beckoning succumb.

Phantoms take once again their form:
Laughs, and old fashioned discipline—
That drumming seat that kept you warm
Stands empty; none will fit within.

Icon; relic; battered old friend.
How I wish it could embrace you
As it did at the very end.
Those memories I retrace, too.

Vivid recollections of youth
Gathered around the warming hearth
As you rocked and told us of truth
Eyes gleaming for all they were worth

But not now. Not without you here.
Now it but sits in that corner
Day by day and year after year
A worn, solitary mourner.

It seems I’m not the only one,
With my raw heart and empty chair
That you’ve left your impression on.
We wish you were still rocking there.