Be My Valentine

Be my Valentine, for I
Each day have thought of you.
My whole life couldn't manage what
Your ready smile can do,
Vanquishing my loneliness
As though all light were new.
Let me be your Valentine
Even as you're mine,
Needing what I have to give
That each might each define
In friendship and in harmony,
Now you, now I the melody,
Each helping each to shine.

Ghost Canyon Trail

There are strange things told of spirits bold,
And the trail to Sante Fe,
There is many a tale of the Chisholm trail,
And the trail to Laramie.
But this is the tale of an obscure trail
That few men travelled on;
Where a spirit was known to ride alone,
'Twixt the midnight hour and dawn.

It would wind and creep through canyons deep
And over the mesa wide.
The men who knew this trail were few,
Where the phantom used to ride.
At times was heard a careless word
Some drinking man let fall,
But 'twas held a joke by the rangeland folk,
That no one believed atall.

I learned the truth from a hard youth.
He was one of those reckless men
Who could ride in the lead of a night stampede,
Ot the dust of the broncho pen.
On a winter night when the stars were bright
And the dying moon was low,
He was holding his course on a jaded horse
And the pace that he made was slow.

The cow horse flinched and cringed, till the cinch
Was almost against the ground.
His quivering ears showed deathly fear
And the cow boy looked around.
He felt the thrill of a clammy chill,
As it travelled along his spine,
For he saw at his side a phantom ride,
With never a word or sign.

He kept his place, for he set his pace
To the cow boy's jogging speed.
There came no sound on the frozen ground
From the tread of his phantom steed.
He showed a flash of a long moustache
And a tilted campaign hat.
There straight and strong with stirrups long
The phantom trooper sat.

They were all alone. And the pale moon shone
Through the ghost at the cow boy's side.
His courage fled as he rode with the dead
Alone on the mesa wide.
No sign of flight, no show of fight
The buckaroo displayed,
For slugs of lead won't hurt the dead,
Through the mist of a vapor shade.

With the mesa past they came at last
To a canyon wide and dark,
Where some stone huts stood in the cottonwoods
That had long been an old land mark.
Each ruined shack had a chimney black,
And a roofless crumbling wall.
A living spring was the only thing
That was useful to men atall.

The chilling breeze through the leafless trees,
Gave a dreary, dismal moan.
The trooper stayed in the ghastly shade
And cow boy rode alone.
Strange tales are head of what occurred
At that place in the years gone by,
Ere that restless soul of the night patrol
Rode under the starlit sky.

What the trooper knows, or where he goes,
Nobody has ever found.
But the tale is told of the lone patrol
By the older settlers 'round.
There's a cow boy trip with a face that's grim,
Will never forget that ride
On a winter night in the pale moon light,
By the phantom trooper's side.

Old Fort Phantom Hill

On the breezy Texas border, on the prairies far away,
Where the antelope is grazing and the Spanish ponies play;
Where the tawny cattle wander through the golden incensed hours,
And the sunlight woos a landscape clothed in royal robes of flowers;
Where the Elm and Clear Fork mingle, as they journey to the sea,
And the night-wind sobs sad stories o'er a wild and lonely lea;
Where of old the dusky savage and the shaggy bison trod,
And the reverent plains are sleeping 'midst drowsy dreams of God;
Where the twilight loves to linger, e'er night's sable robes are cast
'Round grim-ruined, spectral chimneys, telling stories of the past,
There upon an airy mesa, close beside a whispering rill
There to-day you'll find the ruins of the Old Fort Phantom Hill.

Years ago, so runs the legend, 'bout the year of Fifty-three,
This old fort was first established by the gallant soldier, Lee;
And to-day the restless spirits of his proud and martial band
Haunt those ghostly, gloomy chimneys in the Texas border land.
There once every year at midnight, when the chilling Northers roar,
And the storm-kind breathes its thunder from the heights of Labrador,
When the vaulted gloom re-echoes with the owls—"whit-tu-whoo!"
And the stealthy cayote answers with his lonely, long "ki-oo!"
Then strange phantoms flit in silence through that weeping mesquite vale,
And the reveilles come sounding o'er the old McKenzie Trail,
Then the muffled drums beat muster and the bugles sadly trill,
And the vanished soldiers gather 'round the heights of Phantom Hill.

Then pale bivouac fires are lighted and those gloomy chimneys glow,
While the grizzled veterans muster from the taps of long ago,
Lee and Johnston and McKenzie, Grant and Jackson, Custer, too,
Gather there in peaceful silence waiting for their last review;
Blue and gray at length united on the high redoubts of fame,
Soldiers all in one grand army, that will answer in God's name.
Yes, they rest on heights of glory in that fair, celestial world,
"Where the war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle-flags are furled."
And to-day the birds are singing where was heard the cannons' roar,
For the gentle doves are nesting 'midst those ruins of the war.
Yes, the mocking-birds re-echo: "Peace on earth, to men good will,"
And the "swords are turned to ploughshares" in the land of Phantom Hill.

The Ladies of the Canyon

In the evening, through the silence,
When the breezes soft, are still,
Then the Ladies of the Canyon
Come a-creeping up the hill.
And these Ladies of the Canyon,
In their garments pale, of gray,
Are as silent as the night clouds
That are closing out the day.
They come creeping, gray robes trailing,
Gray veils floating 'round their hair;
On they're stealing up the canyon,
Till they reach my house up there.
Then they circle 'round and rest them,
As their garments, gray, they spread
Over flowers and my roof tree,
And the chimney's gray old head.
And I know them for no spirits
Though they have a ghostly way,
For these Ladies of the Canyon
Are but mists from off the bay.

The Best Bloke That I Know

He's the best bloke that I know, he's honest and he's fair,
He's got the type of qualities that now seem pretty rare,
He taught me right from wrong, taught me how to give and share,
Now the only thing that's changed him is the colour of his hair.

I've known him all my life, he's watched me as I grew
And it's no secret round the traps that we've often had a blue
But I've sometimes done it tough and he's always helped me through,
I think the man's a champion and I reckon you would too.

Yet there's nothing in the record books to tell you what he's done,
He never shore two hundred and he never made a ton
But he did his share of shearing and he made his share of runs,
The bloke knows how to work and knows how to have some fun.

And while his passion for the horses hasn't done much for his wealth,
The man is rich on living and just glad he's got his health,
He never would complain while there's tucker on the shelf,
He'd give you what he's got and go without himself.

Now his hair is snowy grey and his face is leather-tanned,
He is isn't rich, isn't famous but he does the best he can,
You'll probably never meet him but it's not hard to understand
That the best bloke that I know is Kevin Hartin, my old man.

My sweet wild rose.

I had a garden, which I kept
    With busy hands and tender care;       
And once, while carelessly I slept,            
    Fanned softly by the drowsy air,
A wild rose to my garden crept,
          And blossomed there.
 
O, sweet surprise. It seemed to me,
    Some fair hand, my heart to bless,
Had brought it there, from wood or lee.
    It came unsought 'twas loved no less;       
I stooped and touched it tenderly,
          With soft caress.
 
I grew to love it passing well;
    While strange exotics, rich and rare,
With heart of gold and crimson bell,
    Paid grudgingly for constant care,
My wild rose, as in a woodland dell,
  Bloomed fresh and fair.
 
I watered not, I did not prune,
    I tied it not with cord or thong;
Yet, morn by morn and noon by noon,
    Through days of summer, hot and long,
And underneath the midnight moon,
          From branches strong
 
Hung clustered blossoms sweet and red;
    And day by day and week by week,
I trod the path which toward it lead.
    Whate'er my mood. I did not speak,
But close against bowed my head
          And pressed my cheek.
 
I think of it with sudden thrill.
    Now wide lands lie, deep water flows,
Smiles many a vale, looms many a hill
    Between me and the garden-close;
Yet fondly I remember still
          My sweet wild rose.

Blue Oranges

The first time I walked with a girl, I was twelve,
cold, and weighted down, with two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking, beneath my steps, my breath
before me, and then gone, As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose, Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather. A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling, At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled, touched her shoulder, and led
her down the street, across, a used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees, Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We entered, the tiny bell
bringing a saleslady, Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies, Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners, Of her mouth. I fingered
A nickel in my pocket, And when she lifted a chocolate
That cost a dime, I didn’t say anything.
I took the nickel from My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on The counter. When I looked up,
The lady’s eyes met mine, And held them, knowing
Very well what it was all About. Outside,
A few cars hissing past, Fog hanging like old
Coats between the trees. I took my girl’s hand
in mine for two blocks, and then released it to let
her unwrap the chocolate. I peeled my orange
that was so bright against the gray of December
that, from some distance, someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands.

Mother's Valentine

My mother made a valentine
So very long ago
And decked it out all prettily    
Like for a special beau.
I watched her as she cut the heart
Then frilled it up with lace
And worked artistically away,
A smile upon her face.
She wove a ribbon, shiny red,
Among the lace so white
Then placed a picture of herself
Through a slit she cut inside.
I saw the words, “I love you, Dear,
I'm proud to be your wife
You're given me the blessings
Of a blissful, wedded life.”
I felt like laughing out for joy,
My childish heart was glad!
Mom's special valentine would go
To a special beau named Dad.

I Want to be Your Valentine..

Oh precious oh precious please be mine
I want to be your Valentine
I’ll do anything to be your rose
I want to be the Valentine you chose
Hold my hand and don’t let go
Open your heart and feel our love grow
Lock me in your heart just for a day
Feeling your love while reality fades away
I’ll wait year after year
Crying and sobbing tear after tear
Oh precious oh precious please be mine
I want to be your Valentine!

It's More Than Saying I Love You

We give on this day candy and flowers,
But we never stop to say thank you for the many hours.
You have stood by my side and gave a smile,
As if to tell our hearts it's been worth every mile.
No need to buy a teddy bear or even a card,
It's pretty simple and not at all hard.
Just put your arms around me and hold me tight,
And say without words that in your heart all is right.
You may say I Love You throughout the year,
But on this day you need to make sure.
The words so sweet and straight from your heart,
That your life would be lonely without my part.
So put forth the effort and take the time,
Look me in the eye and say I'm glad you're mine.

Stop Violence plzzzzzzzzzz

 Drugs all over under the ground.
Guns, people crying, putting each otherdown.
People every day do crazy things.
Buying fancy cars and a lot ofrings.
You have nothing to show for yourself.
You're dying on the inside,and you have bad health.
I wonder what the community can do.
I have noidea, not even a clue.
I look in the paper and I see someone dead.
They layon the stretcher like it was a bed.
The mothers stand in silence.
Peopleshould think TO STOP THE VIOLENCE!!

Like an Angel With Broken Wings

Like An Angel With Broken Wings

She roams through this life looking for worth.
Being blessed with beauty, that is her curse.

The other girls talk and give her bad looks.
Their jealousy stings and God knows she hurts.

She made some mistakes that weigh on her mind,
Now she no longer thinks she has what it takes.
She dreams her dreams but then she awakes,
Finding herself alone.

Just like an angel with broken wings,
God placed her here on this earth,
To sing her song through suffering,
Unaware of tomorrow and what it might bring.

She wants to fly but can't leave the ground,
She looks for love but it's nowhere to be found.
All she finds is empty promises.

Until finally one day, love broke through,
Like a ray of sun, piercing thick fog.
She remembers what she was put here to do,
And begins singing her new song.

Now she's catching dreams like butterflies,
Spreading her wings, she readies to fly,
When love swoops down like a breath of fresh air,
And lifts her up to God knows where.

Like a feather rising high above,
Sailing on a prayer, a wind of gentle love.
Drifting as a white cloud in the dreamer’s sky,
To a place of peace, where poets never cry.

She draws near to the angels,
To meet her bridegroom in the air,
She lived a life of faithfulness,
While others didn't care.

She once was a damsel in distress,
Imprisoned on this earth,
But love finally broke through,
And came down to rescue her.

Am Feeling Lonely

Loneliness is one of the scourges of humanity. It seems to affect everyone regardless of age or ethnicity. Whether you're a PhD or high school dropout, rich or poor, you're equally vulnerable. What exactly is loneliness? It is a FEELING that intimacy, understanding, friendship, and acceptance are missing from one's life. It is a FEELING of isolation or separation from others, a FEELING of being all alone. We need to realize that loneliness is nothing more than a feeling. After all, you are not your arms or legs, for they are just parts of your body. Similarly, you are not your feelings, which are just parts of your psyche.

Words are a lot like cars. Both are loaded with power. Cars are used to drive home. And words are used to drive home a point. Words and cars are very useful, but when used improperly, they can harm us. There are many poor drivers and poor thinkers because we learn about cars and words from unqualified instructors, such as our parents or friends. Now, let's get to the point. Did you ever say any of the following to yourself or others? "I am lonely." "I am sad." "I am angry." If you did, that is a misuse of language that leads to harmful effects.

Here is something to think about. The words we use imprison us or set us free. For example, if I were to say, "I AM lonely." That is just like saying, "I AM white." or "I AM a male." You see, there's nothing I can do about being white or a male. There is nothing I can do to change what I AM. So, when I say, "I AM lonely," the implication is that I cannot change. In other words, I use words to imprison myself with false beliefs.

How Do I Love Thee

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Don't worry, be happy

Here's a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don't worry, be happy.
In every life we have some trouble
But when you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy.Don't worry, be happy now.

Ain't got no place to lay your head
Somebody came and took your bed
Don't worry, be happy.
The landlord say your rent is late
He may have to litigate,Don't worry, be happy.


(Look at me -- I'm happy.)
Don't worry, be happy.
(Here I give you my phone number.
When you worry, call me,I make you happy.)


Ain't got no cash, ain't got no style
Ain't got no gal to make you smile
'Cause when you worry your face will frown
And that will bring everybody down
Don't worry, be happy. Don't worry, be happy.
Don't worry, be happy. Don't worry, be happy.

Black Dahlia

Why did you do this to me...
I told you that I loved you
Pain doesn't even set me free
Notafterall the hell you put me through
I cry and cry, Drowning.


Wishing to say goodbye, Shaking
Your love was a beautiful lie, Just a game
A game you played to past the time
But I actually loved you...'tis a shame
Your words filled with hate, Tears falling
My heart is at a breaking state, My razor is calling

I wish I didn't feel this
I wish I didn't feel so sad
I wish I didn't cut my wrist
I wish it didn't hurt so bad
The memories fill my past.

Moments gone, While pain still lasts
Something's wrong, But I'm over you, I love him
And I'm forgetting all the hell you put me through

Little Mermaid

Look around, look around…
The water lies so still tonight.
Seems the mermaids have all been drowned.

Lurid waves slither towards shore;
Virtue tattered, transparent, cloud-thin.
Look around, look around.

Viscous cycle, inquisitor’s wheel –
Damned to the savage disposition of Life.
Seems the mermaids have all been drowned.

Wet impressions in the sullied sand
Inherit only their shadows to bequeath.
Look around, look around…

No salt tears flavor the ocean’s brew –
No seashells grace the sunless halls.
Seems the mermaids have all been drowned.

Legends eventually find their own graves,
And turn into dust that dissolves in the waves.
Look around, look around…
Seems the mermaids have all been drowned.



Wishes To The Blue Fairy

As The Star twinkles in the dark night sky,
The Moon So bright,
The Star my Mother used to say,
Was the Blue Fairy.
The Blue Fairy who when wished upon,
Would wave the magic wand,
To make it come true.

So Tonight
Under the darkened Sky,
I wished Upon the Blue Fairy.
I asked for the worlds Happiness,
I asked for the strength to carry on.
I asked for my families health,
I wished for everyones smiles.

I made that wish to the Blue Fairy.
I made the wish for you.
I made the wish for all of us,
In hope that it would come true.

I saw that Blue Fairy.
She stood so tall.

But as my wishes fade,
The Fairy,
Became the star my mother always
told me was the Blue Fairy.

Little Ghost

I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown's white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.

And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused—then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there.

She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.

White Beauty... The Unicorn

Have you been to the carnival
I would like to see you
Theres a whole lot of people there
Who would like to be you
With the white uncorn, across her shoulder
Makes you think that she might of been
Someone whos older, ahh yeahhh

And I know it's on your mind
We've been drinking on the wine
That we drank from the serpents vine
Now we live in another time
We could live together

She lives on the borderline,
That they call hazel
And the tent that she lives in has the name of her lover,
As she lays down to rest, she dreamt of another
Of a time when she once had

And I know it's on your mind
We've been drinking on the wine
That we drank from the serpents vine
Now we live in another time

Sister can you tell me when the day turns to night
She left without a word and wondered inside
How many day's must I still wonder why
And see her face in every passer by

NOT GUD ENOUGH

   "O Never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify!
As easy might I from myself depart,
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so prepost'rously be stain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
...For nothing this wide Universe I call,
...Save thou, my Rose; in it thou art my all."

My holidays

Nostalgia "The Old Scuttle-Butt"

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my cruises,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
Not one of those dreams of the fo'c's'le loses
The charm of each spot that my rookie days knew.
The sound of the bugle at reveille routing
The crew from the hammocks which hung neck an' neck;
The din of the mess-gear; the laughing and shouting
Around the old scuttle-butt, there on the deck.

        The old wooden scuttle-butt;
          Iron bound scuttle-butt;
          Cool, dripping scuttle-butt,
          On the gun deck.

The songs that the gang used to sing in the twilight,
Their pipes all a-glowin' with yellow and red,
Just layin' on deck till the last bit o' sky light
Had gone, where the sun was hull-down and abed.
The faces which peered above every tin dipper;
The laughter that rang as we leaned at the brink;
The hails that were cheery, the jokes that were chipper,
The fellowship there, which we quaffed with each drink

        The old wooden scuttle-butt;
          Iron bound scuttle-butt;
          Cool, dripping scuttle-butt,
          On the gun deck.

Nostalgia

BLUE VALENTINE

Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,        
I will forget the light.

When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging
I may remember him!