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I have a seed now
upon the earth,
Blooming as God sees now,
until its birth.
I won a deed now
unwonted by mirth.
Yellow finches my child
shall see,
Turtles,
Frogs which live in our trees.
God,
Nature in the raw, she
shall see.
I have a seed now
upon the earth,
Nestled in my wife
until its birth.
I won a deed now,
I must give it mirth.
My
daughter, Yvonne was born February 7, 1970.
Somewhere within I am
Somehow within I am
compelled to write,
To issue a pen to my hand
and begin to write.
Somewhere within I yearn
for the delight
To beckon small words
into my sight.
Just a small prayer
becomes my ballad.
Just a small tale becomes
my novel.
Not to baffle the kings
or leave all in awe,
Nor to conquer verse or
lead literature to another door,
Not to seek a living or
have the public's implore,
Nor to free the the dying
from the dead forever more.
Just a small prayer
becomes my ballad.
Just a small tale becomes
my novel.
Somehow within time I am
forced to place
Letters on paper which
form my face.
Somewhere within, my soul
seems to speak out
Words for only paper,
whether whimper or shout.
Why, Dear God, choose
such as me?
Neither words of
knowledge nor songs follow me.
Why must I write when
none will be told?
Why must my own phrases
turn me so cold?
Just a small prayer
becomes my ballad.
Just a small tale becomes
all my novel. |
