Broken Old Ghost
He's an old man now
with fond memories of long gone fishing trips.
He sees France and Germany in his dreams
and recalls the sweet taste of a young frauleins lips.
He reminds himself daily, that once he lived
through the pains of the Great Depression as a kid.
He however tries to forget the big guns of Europe
that often nearly blew off his lid.
He thinks back
of the girl he used to know.
He wonders how she is
and why he ever let her go.
He was once young and strong
filled with fascination and great hopes.
He was taken away and used by the world
and now is merely a walking old ghost.
He walks with his old dog slow and gentle
they both like the feel of a cold northern wind.
He often sees dark and rumbling storm clouds in the distance
it reminds him of the SS, and makes him fear they are coming again.
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Down to Up
(- these are the reflections that came to mind while I was looking at the painting 'Riddarfjarden in Stockholm' by Eugene Jansson,1898.
I simply wrote them down -my thoughts- just as they came to me.)
That time shall come.
By dread or by due,
As it must
For the pain of living in a world untrue -
The night grows quiet.
While the city lights reflecting
Upon the effulgent bay
Slowly, soundlessly fade down,
down...down.
Into the eddies of the deep,
Where the last
Of the lights evening song
Whispers away...far away.
Where the souls seperate
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Poem
Words hung on paper
Like thoughts in the wind
Some flitter to and fro
But the good ones always seem to blow
Away and away,
Again and again.
Go down to the river of exile
Where the sad ones cry,
Go out to the catacombs
Where the old ones die...
Like a leaf in the fall
It's all such a temporary thing,
So put a little music with it
And hope it'll make someone's soul sing.
Slumbering forth with sadness
A mingled mixture of madness
This sobriquet symphony
Of mellow deep;
Heart felt longings,
Vagabond thoughts,
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Words
Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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That's Just Ducky
Passed by a duck
Driving a bright yellow car
I couldn't help but wonder
If she'd make it very far;
She went by perfectly
Never veering left or right
Straight and steady
As if in graceful flight;
Impressed was I
To say the very least, for
I've never known any birds to drive
Not even the great and amazing Canadian geese;
Now, ofcourse I have seen many a fowl
Fly right on by
But never a one
Not up in the clear blue sky;
Manys the time I've witnessed our fine feathered friends
Swiftly moving near and far
But oh no, never
At the wheel of a car;
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Superior Fall
The last warm rays of sun
Go deep into my skin,
As up north
It's fall once again.
It is later than it seems
With the end of summer dreams;
- Lake Superior rolls cold
As all along
The waves sing
A lingering, melancholy song.
She's a cold beautiful blue beast,
Stay with her through the winter and
It will be ice upon which you feast!
This libertine lady
Has no time nor care
For the weak and the timid,
Her wild waves continuously caress the air,
And the warmth of her touch
Is fleeting and limited;
But, she shall have your heart
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Alone?
I looked for the side of the moon,
That no one sees;
I found what I sought.
In a mirror, looking back at me -
Looking in that mirror
I wonder to my self,
Am I - are we all
Alone?
The reflection I see
Appears to be, only me,
But, the deeper I look into those eyes
The more illumination I realize:
On the dark side of the moon
Or in Central Park
There is always a place
Drawn to the dark -
A map in the mirror
Showing the way
Calling souls of mankind
To where they can find
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Freight Train Fever
He put the handcuffs on me
behind my back,
threw me in the car
right beside the railroad tracks;
got in
and started sayin,
somethin bout ridin a train
without payin;
I didn't hear
anything else he said,
cause I was already 1,000 miles away
inside my head;
out there catchin
the next west-bound freight,
headin on
for another free state.
But now, here I am lyin with the drunks
on a cold jailhouse floor,
lookin through long steel bars
to the freedom waitin just beyond the door;
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Bad & Good
An outlaw dies
At the end of a rope,
Such a short drop
To the place of no hope-
The wrong any of us do
Can kill, more than just a few,
There's always some price to pay
For going astray-
Gunfighters go out
In a blaze of glory,
For us common folk though
It's a bit less flamboyant story-
We tend to fade away alone
Dying in despair, for the love of home,
Failing often to come together
In our restless search of forever-
In days of old
Perhaps we knew better where we stood,
But the reality is for humanity
There is not much seperating the bad from the good-
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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