A Stop-off in Lima Peru!

It's hard to think of myself,
As anything but country,
Country may have been,
Nine thousand miles away,
But next door in my philosophy.

I grew up in a wood frame house,
Not much but screens in the windows,
Barefeet was safer than shoes,
So's you wouldn't have to deal with moss on your toes.

We could play outside,
In the cool sweet grass,
Often spy a half grown boa,
As curious and fearful as we were,

The land all around,
Flooded for three months a year,
Our seasons were divided by half
Never saw a leaf turn orange.

News was what you could hear,
From VOA or Radio Havana
Them fellers from Cuba are slick,
Talked just like most New Yorkers!

I turned seventeen,
Got a letter with fancy writin,
Some man in the army,
Making requests of my presence.

They even got that mixed up,
'Cause they sent the darn thing
With dry goods and tools,
On a ship from New Orleans.

My pap, he went to the city,
Got with the bigwigs at the government
They and the Marines on guard laughed
There ain't much love 'tween the Army and Marines.

Turned out that letter,
Well, it was six weeks late,
The army was threatenin',
Wonder how the Peruvians would feel,
About our army stampin' on Peruvian dirt.

Yep, I was nine thousand miles
Fur enough from New York City
And some beaurocrat and his soldiers,
Was coming to take me away!

The folks at the embassy called to Panama,
Told a general's aid there,
In some steamy, jungle office,
Nearby that big ole Canal

How dumb his general staff was,
Writin' letters and sendin' 'em by boat!
How do you figger you're goin' to arrest,
Some feller in the backside of nowhere.

It ain't your get up to invade some country
'Cause you messed up communications
You sent a military letter in a boat bound for Malayia
With a stop off in Lima, Peru!!

Honeysuckle Yellow

I’m down in the cool grass on a Friday afternoon,
Staring at the blossoms while the sun shines through
Honeysuckle blossoms, tastin’ airy wine
I don’t even care if it’s tresspassin’ vine

That pretty yeller flower, got a language all its own
Come on, play in my yard, its magic fallin' down
It crooks a petal at me, like a siren calls my name
My mind’s playin’ tricks, fantasies and games

Inviting and enticing
Like that honeysuckle wine
I can’t turn away, girl,
From that wild in your eyes

Honeysuckle yellow,
Honeysuckle vine,
Feeling so mellow,
Kissin's so fine,
Girl, you got to get up,
You take my heart and play.
You smell like honeysuckle,
We got to dance the night away

Back in Vietnam

I cried pretty quickly, though I tried to hold them back...
it's really hard to read, then you just lose track,
No one really notices, and if they did, I wouldn't care,
It's folks like you, who are kind enough to share.

Looking at one grave, and another's headstone
you wonder how these people died, being hugged or just alone,
I guess it doesn't matter, they're heroes all the same,
'tis a sacrifice, and very little fame

I often think how it would be different, were it me, 'stead of them,
no kids in this house, just a pretty woman with no man
would I have honored myself, my family, and gramma, yes ma''am
Had I gone to war, tramped the swamps, back in Vietnam

I can hear the rolling thunder, some rifles fired near the graves
for the fellows and women, who know up in Heaven, Jesus Saves
He protected one fellow who by providence was spared
And I write this in honor of the proud ones who dared
........Back in Vietnam

The Moon

Yellow the moon that dark night,
Taking my soul into its orbiting flight,
Reminding me of love,
Yet unrequited,
Silent and imposing,
Marked and unknighted,
Sadly it marches acros that deep sky,
With hearts, and love,
Trailing the baleful eye

Red Dawn

Red dawn,
Like ions burning in a cauldron of Hades,
Plastered against the climbing cumulus,
Their bottoms lined up like an army of night,
With camoflauge of cyan and and white,
Pitted against the coming day.
Gathered as ghosts of ancient Greece,
Arrayed like infranty on battlefields of fleece,
A lone abode, stolid at their feet,
Ten thousand to 1, the odds on this day.
The house all quiet, ready the fray,
All are sleeping unaware of the play
Unaware of impending war.
Clashing and clanking of ghostly spears,
None but those with souls can feel the tears,
The ranks upon ranks of these hairy trolls of hell.
Look toward the blackened and baleful third world,
See toward the snarling whorl,
With muted whispers and excited shouts,
Invisible battle arrays about.
A land of the sky,
Where angels and demons,
And fairytales fly,
Fantasy, and children and kittens play,
Peter and his pirates,
Daniel and his den,
Thor and his minions for an hour a day

Old Love

It would be good to sit across from each other,
in a coffee house and write,
cowrite, ponder and love,
two old wrinkled friends,
who would have seen the better part of 70 years,
and can write about it with meaning,
with authority and with charity.....
Perhaps that is the advantage of age.
The love can spring from the mind,
without the complication of the body.....
Confident that you share ideals and goals,
far beyond the temporal physical pleasure,
That you treasure what you have,
knowing together,
That the spring of breath each day is a gift.
That the wink of the eye carries affection,
that the freckled old hand is tender,
that young people can never understand,
it's not flirting between two old friends,
It's an understanding that,
there is far more to love than the linen sheets cover
There is communication that takes place.
Takes place on a level most people will never understand,
because they fear to think.

No Caffiene!

By Kathy Workman

I’m facing a Monday
with no caffeine
No soda pop bubbles
no fragrant bean!

The infusion of energy
I want in my vein
causes my heart
to race and complain!

Jump in the shower,
Rattle my head,
stretch to the left,
bounce on the bed!

Nothing quite does it
the fog doesn't clear
The thinking stays muddled
all day, I fear.

In two to three weeks
the ban will be lifted
I'll grab the bean bag
the choice ones, sifted

Brew me a cup
drizzle in cream,
hot and uplifting!!
My coffee bean dream!

Fragrant for a Time

The kidders, the friends, the visionaries, the brothers.
Writers, shooters, hikers and lovers.
Adventurers, dreamers and laughing smiles,
Enjoy it a moment, or more, a little while

We are here like incense,
fragrant for a time and then sadly gone,
we attach our emotions to that rising trail,
only to find that we cannot prevail.

None the less, we love, we cherish,
these friendships, this mist
passions, sharing, talk, and caring
time, and imagination, nothing sparing

God bless you, my dear friend.
We know that love never ends,
though mountain fall and rain floods in.
Love never fails, because He never fails

Natalie And Nashville

Natalie kicked her butt at 6am,
punched a clock and home again
Every Friday night, she'd drink and dream
and spin the bottle in that water ring
Takin’ chances with the winkers,
makin’ love with stranger men
Then up on Sunday mornin’
going down to confession again


Her fingers wrapped a pen last night
inkin’ in blood, her broken pain
Dropped off in the rain, at music row
he'd cursed as the car sped on again
You can take your damned old songs
sing them in bars until you’re hoarse
They don’t care about your hometown songs,
just the polish you scratched on the lobby floor!

Natalie and Nashville are gonna collide on I 95
She’s got this idea and hell couldn’t make her fry
She’d kill for country music, She’d lie to save her soul,
She’d sell herself to make a hit, down on Music row