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Poems By Poet GREENWOLFE 1962  7/31/2010 10:07:41 AM
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  Best Poems From
  GREENWOLFE 1962 (MARCH 23, 1951)
 
 
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  57.     

Treasure

At the end of Heaven's rainbow,
There's a treasure that I've found.
Never gleaned from golden nuggets
Nor from diamonds underground.

These are treasures not as precious
As the one I now possess.
I don't need them, now I've found her;
Earthly treasures mean much less.

You may wonder how I'll answer.
Just how precious can she be?
'I feel Heaven and the angels
Every time she touches me.'

'I see visions of the cosmos,
Sparkling colors in her eyes.
I hear music soft and gentle,
Taking me to paradise.'

'I smell springtime in her fragrence,
Taste her lips of berry wine.
And I sleep in sweet contentment,
Knowing that this treasure's mine.'
 
GREENWOLFE 1962
   
 

   
   
 

  58.     

War Crimes

It's time I stood and spoke of war,
A candid speech display.
To tell you things you used to know;
Forgotten, on the way.

I hear they plan to have a trial
Of criminal intent.
Displaying soldiers in a cage,
Who blessed this sad event?

They say they did a most foul deed
By killing innocents.
Just retribution, as they say;
An evil consequence.

Its time I lay to rest, at last,
A base canard of life.
That war is one more legal way
To deal with pain and strife.

I hate to put it bluntly now,
But most of you won't hear;
If I would only gently speak
These words you need not fear.

Some time ago, a wisdom born
Of death and man's intent;
Was fostered on the souls of men
To hasten their descent.

It said that there are crimes of war
That men must never do.
And perpetrated, in this way;
A values dream, or two.

By doing this, they justified
The basest deed of all.
And legalized, with mal intent;
Man's certain, deadly fall.

I'm here to tell you true at last,
What you already know.
The concept there are crimes of war,
Has never thus been so.

Whatever deed is done in war,
As jusified by man;
Is covered in the book of faith,
As per the Master's plan.

There is no deed a man may do
In war that's his intent.
The moral choice was duly made
The day that he was sent.

Man makes his choice when he decides
To yield his soul to man.
And joins them in the enterprise
Of evil deeds they plan.

When after yielding up his soul,
He then is sent to war;
It doesn't matter what he does,
He can't yield anymore.

There is no crime he can commit
Against his fellow man.
No grading of the deeds he does.
In Hell, there is no fan.

So let me bluntly tell you true.
And take this to your graves.
The only roads there are to Hell,
Are those which war sure paves.

It's war itself, that is the crime;
That dooms mens souls to Hell.
The laughs you hear, they come from me;
It's war, that needs a cell.
 
GREENWOLFE 1962
   
 

   
   
 

  59.     

Eternally Together

As flowers bloom in springtime
To garland nature's glow ,
I know you now remember
Such beauty long ago .

And you must hear the music
Around our favorite song .
Calling back our memories
We've held for oh so long .

For as you might remember
They always came in rhyme ,
The links that held together
Our love for all this time .

Our love theme song , 'Forever',
Compelled a warm embrace .
And humming love between us
Charmed both our souls with grace .

A tear-stained love embittered ,
Was never ours, and thus ;
No rhymes of love concluded
Were ever penned by us .

We parted just like strangers ,
Who meet while passing by .
We knew and loved each other ,
And neither was a lie .

Foretold by us that springtime ,
We'd meet again someday ;
Now , having done our duty ,
Prediction has its way .

For now, we've come full circle .
It's springtime once again .
I think I hear our love song ,
Just as I did back then .

I know you now remember ,
A smile is on your face .
A brilliance seen that springtime
That time just can't erase .

So now , by our endeavor ,
We'll have our one last fling .
Eternally Together ,
Resumed once more in spring .
 
GREENWOLFE 1962
   
 

   
   
 

  60.     

Lamented Life

I saw you prancing in the dark.
You seemed to have such joy.
My father brought you home that day,
And said you weren't a toy.

So very soon, I learned to ride;
That I might be with you.
And you became a cherished friend,
The first I ever knew.

We were alone most of the time.
We lived so far out here.
My life was oh so simple then.
We roamed so far, but near.

I kept you well as best I could,
With lots of oats and hay.
You stood beside this old grey rock,
To help me mount each day.

You were so big, and I was small;
But to me you were so kind.
They always said you weren't too smart,
But I really didn't mind.

You seemed to like me on your back.
I rode each time I could.
I so enjoyed your company
As any young boy would.

And so it was, until the day
When I just had to leave.
I said good-bye and then I went.
There was no time to grieve.

My father wrote and spoke of you.
He said you did quite well.
You often waited at the rock
Until the evening fell.

The other day, he said you changed
And didn't anymore.
I wondered then, should I return
To ride you as before?

So yesterday, I made the time
To visit my best friend.
Now here I am in your corral.
So lonely in the end.

You stayed with me just long enough,
Dear thanks to God above;
For me to hear you one last time
Repeat your sound of love.

I wonder now about my life.
The love we shared and knew.
And wish I'd never spent a day
Of it, not here with you.

For what is life, but moments spent
In doing what we choose.
Seeking things we think we want.
Forgetting, those we lose.

I think I've learned my lesson now.
In life, you just can't win.
Unless you cherish what you have
Of friendship, now and then.

So I'll stand on the old grey rock
Until my dying day.
When you'll return, and once again.
I'll mount, and ride away.
 
GREENWOLFE 1962
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet GREENWOLFE 1962