Woody And Bo
Bo and Woody watched the game of the century
You know Bo said to Woody I wish it would snow
That Carr and Tressell are just whippersnappers
Only thing they know to do is have their QB throw
Woody said three thing happen and two are bad
Real football is three yards and a cloud of dust
I figured if we got rid of that coach called Cooper
We had found us a good coach we could trust
Ah yes its the same way with that Carr said Bo
He has runners but he has to pass just the same
I am telling you Woody it aint the way it once was
All these new coachs are ruining our football game
Just then Henne had a pass sail out of bounds
A receiver was open and it made old Bo cough
Bo then turned to Woody and with a grim face
Football aint the same, lets play a round of golf
Our Military
Traveling on a road in the hot desert sands
Never knowing what they might face ahead
These young heros hide their fears of doubt
Thinking of the love ones back home instead
When they got to this awful forbidding land
Some had just passed their teenage years
As they look back to just about a year ago
They couldn't legally have a few cold beers
Becoming adults these Soldiers and Marines
Growing up amid these times that are trying
They will become veterans on that very day
They see one of their own lying there dying
Don't forget these young men and women
For without them our country would not be
Through all the years America has existed
Our military has fought to keep us all free
Black Is The Color
Looking up to that uncloudy sky
Sun brings to the world our light
But as the Sun sets in the West
Black becomes the color of night
Black where once light did shine
Glimmers of light have gone away
Faded beyond the distant hillside
Soon to become a past yesterday
Does light shine on the other side
As this side of the Earth is so black
Of course we all know that it does
Tomorrow morning will bring it back
As we then see the light of morning
Returning the brightness to our sky
We know Black is the color of night
Does anyone know the reason why
Old Banjo Man
He still picks that old five string banjo
This old man of eighty years and more
Sitting on his porch on Saturday night
Playing his tunes from old country lore
We would all gather around to listen
He looked funny with his flat straw hat
Firing up the strings on the five string
He would play us a dab of this or that
His skinny fingers are a little weaker
Still he grasps that banjo by the neck
Caressing strings like a younger man
He'll show them young ones by heck
He has nothing left but that old banjo
Since his sweet wife has passed away
He longs for the time they meet again
There to pick her a lovely tune that day
Our Rustic Cabin
As I look across the hill I can see the cabin
Smoke drifts high into a Sun splashed sky
It is with love we live on this mountain side
Where we overlook the valley from up high
Nights are filled with this sense of security
As only wild animals roam across our ridge
We can see the lights of a long locomotive
As it snakes its way over to the Silver bridge
Mornings bring sunlight to our rustic cabin
We wake as the beams bounce off the wall
Throwing off the warmth of our wool blankets
We head for the door to answer natures call
We love the beauty seen around our cabin
Where our world here is serene and so free
No longer to face those rigors of the city life
It is here my heart and mind shall ever be
Destroying The Land
As we look up to the sky and all of the universe
It is with knowledge He planned the whole thing
Perfect and exacting He made this world of ours
Life to this place named Earth He then did bring
He sprinkled the hills with straight and tall trees
Left valleys beautiful with the lush green grass
Made the clear streams pure without stagnation
Made the lakes smooth as a pane of plate glass
Having made this a place of unspoiled innocence
He then thought of making an animal called man
He would give man a higher form of intelligence
Man was then to preserve Earth, so was His plan
But so many men in their foolish way of thinking
Have polluted the waters and poisoned the land
This is their way to destroy this land He created
Making ugly this world that once was so grand
Perfect Dreams
I sit and dream of a along ago yesteryear
Youth was a friend and age of no concern
It seems we never tired the whole day long
As if we knew we had this energy to burn
Years now has eroded the youth we had
Still old dreams frequently come to mind
Some tend to make our heart beat faster
While some others may be of a sad kind
Without dreams we would all stumble along
Not knowing in what direction we should go
It is dreams of a greater life we want to live
That makes all of our dreams continue to grow
Some dreams come true and are a milestone
While others go away without much thought
Great ideas along with some careful planning
That is how those perfect dreams are brought
Flowing Ink
With a pen they put their words on paper
Some might be funny and others are sad
Telling the stories in both poetry and prose
Most tell of the experiences they once had
They tell you of heartaches, strife and pain
Of troubled youth or a promise thats broken
How they met the great love in their dreams
Or when they were caught in a tree smokin
Each has their story and it begs to be told
Most of them try to write a little bit each day
It brings happiness to hear the compliments
What their readers and listeners have to say
So you of the Phoenix Writers I will comend
Your artful skill coming from that flowing ink
We will hear and read all the beautiful works
You know how some at times will make us think
Late Blooming Roses
With a wet blanket of snow for their bonnet
These beautiful Pink Roses are sight to see
Its in November and they are still blooming
At times things like this are a mystery to me
Although their petals are so tender and frail
It seems this has not been their time to go
It could be they will be blooming tomorrow
How they could be confused I'll never know
While they survive the rigors of cold weather
Closely together they are now standing tall
In Springtime they were placed in the beds
In the rich dirt scattered along the brick wall
Like a life that has been spared from death
Their beauty thrives and continues to grow
Perhaps heat from the nearby brick building
Will melt away this late Autumn time snow
I Am A Lump Of Coal
For centuries that mountain was my home
Burried so deep within the bowels of Earth
I was held there by the mountain's weight
Until man realized what was my true worth
They started digging inside of my mountain
Taking my friends and hauling them away
It was obvious it was just a matter of time
Until they would dig me out some sad day
I could feel the steel teeth cutting me away
As it disemboweled me from the main vein
As I was loaded on this wide conveyer belt
I was battered but never felt any real pain
Left alone I might have become a diamond
Gracing a brides finger on her wedding day
Now I'm a lump of coal riding the N&S railroad
A great view, but what price will I have to pay
copyright © 2006 By Acie