Retired from the University of Texas and too old to play soccer anymore. Now, in the twilight of his years, time is spent writing in this blog, hiking and exploring Texas Parks, photography, working out, gardening and tending to the five ponds he built .
When you look at a person what do you see
beyond their obvious physical tone
do you see beauty where there is none
or does the person have to meet
strict standards that only you alone
dare to impose as the proper one.
While it is true what appeals to others
may not always appeal to you
if slim and shapely be your choice
as opposed to someone more rounded in size
or maybe its the other way around
and your preference of large can be found.
If you judge solely by his or her looks
and to you this must be met
aren’t you missing out in other ways
like personality and caring, loving and grace
and if you never give the other a chance
you will never find out for yourself
just how kind and good because to you
none of these things come shining through.
I fear if you set your standards so high
or if so judgemental you may be
what right do you others to judge
when you may be no real catch
and love you will never match.
If you read this and it strikes a bell
and if you are looking for a mate
you must broaden your vision and be free
with more honesty and less desire
to find that perfect mate for you
because in truth you may not be
much of a catch yourself to view.
But then again if you search
for perfection and it can’t be found
not for you a happy mate
but instead the lonely sound
of you crying yourself to sleep
alone in this world no partner to keep.
I had another dream last night
in it I wanted to fight
and run and hide from things within
things I had no idea what
they were or why they caused such fright.
My dreams are always scary to me
I never have one in which I see
beautiful women or babies and such
instead they are of the violent kind
in which I can never run away
from the things from what I dream
I can never fight although I try
and as my legs are my strongest things
I kick and flail and send covers flying
and wake up just before I am die-ing
of whatever it is that chases me.
The dogs on the bed are well aware
and when I go into my kicking routine
fly off the bed in an attempt
to avoid my flailing legs and feet
Be-Be has learned that if she barks
out of the trance I instantly snap
and full of apologies to my furry friends
between us we re-build the bed again
and settle down into the night
hoping that no more we will fight.
I can never remember of what I dream
I know at the time they do seem
unusually real for this I am sure
or why would I want to escape and fight
real enough to make me wake in a sweat
wondering how I can forget
and go back to sleep and dream of good things
of pastures green and birds on a wing
of my dogs and my friends and the good life I lead
instead of the horrors that are my dreams.
For me dreams come in only two kinds
and I try to put both out of my mind
as neither gives pleasure where pleasure is sought
a forewarning or foreboding of bad things to come
or maybe the things I fear the most
in my subconscious are to the front.
Maybe the TV is to blame and the Sci-Fi channel
which I watch a lot is planting the seed
of that nights dream although the dream
no resemblance bares to what I was watching
before I climbed the stairs
to my bedroom along with my dogs
to lay down my head and my troubled mind
will reflect of the things of the worst kind.
I have to say that lucky for me
and the dogs as they are usually involved
these dreams do not occur too much
and most nights we sleep the tired sleep that men
content in their minds and with their lot
and for women care not one jot
but are happy to spend the rest of our lives
living our dreams the ones of good times
the ones in which we dream
of a better place that we can spend
the rest of our lives until that day
when the dream will be unbearably real
and all of the fighting and kicking too
will be of no use for the time is wrote
and awake from the dream an impossible task
as we lay there and breathe our last.
For this time Be-Be with her barks
will no longer wake me from my sleep
for this time I have gone too far
and crossed the line between night and day
and life and death, good dreams and bad
and have joined my Maker in the sky.
I have one of those days where I have to say
it’s difficult to get moving.
I woke up fine having drawn the line with
no dreams to keep me from going
For when I dream, I always seem
to have to fight or have to run
and find I can’t do either.
I have had a busy week
regardless of what people think
it’s hard to load out rock.
Even with the help one end
when I get to the other
I am the one that unloads the trailer.
Seven loads in all I did haul
from my friends house in Austin
in between each time I helped them plan
the work that they were doing.
A view of the unfinished sidewalk
Replacing the rock that I have at my house
with patio stone of pretty design
they were working so hard out in the sun
the sweat on them was starting to run
into their eyes and soaking their shirt
for such is the nature of working outside
in 100 degrees in Austin.
My friends are smart and make an early start
when the weather is cooler
by 11:00 o’clock they are starting to wilt
with the hot sun beating down on them.
But wait, I do digress as this story is not about them
as I complain to the dogs the only ones around
about the fact that I have no life and even less energy.
I guess moving rock has taken its toll
on my aged body.
So stay inside for the rest of the day
and write bad poetry sounds like a plan
that I can follow or maybe a nap just to catch
up on sleep missed as I was dreaming.
Stories about family, faith, friends and funnies. Pull up a chair. Grab a cup of coffee and laugh, cry, ponder and inspire about ordinary events of this wonderful, ever changing, bubbling pot that we call "every day life".