She? Oh, you thought Joan Baez wrote it? Well, I'm glad you like my poem, even though you thought somebody else wrote it. I reckon when I said it did not agree with my theology or philosophy, that might be confusing. But sometimes the way it works is, I start writing about a subject, and the poem takes on a life of its own. Many times it ends up nowhere near what I intended when I started. In this case however, it did express my thoughts at the time, before I came to the realization that much of Ecclesiastes reflects a world without God. And I think that is the way it is supposed to be, with knowledge increasing, and growth in the knowledge of present truth.

This seems like a good opportunity to post another one of my poems, even though there isn't much of a market for them. When I was working as a country DJ, one of the other DJs introduced this slogan, "Music that sticks to your boots," to describe our play list. I thought it as rather clever, and a few years later I wrote these lyrics.

MUSIC THAT STICKS TO YOUR BOOTS

The stand-up bass and fiddles, guitars and banjos ring.
We know there are no substitutes
For the music we play and the songs that we sing.
It's music that sticks to your boots.

Down in music city there's a fortune to be had
Consorting with the music prostitutes,
Doing rap and heavy metal and acid rock instead
Of music that sticks to your boots.

He entertains the yuppies in the uptown cabaret,
But he cannot forget his country roots.
Down on the corner we taught him how to play
Music that sticks to your boots.

Businessmen in helicopters often pass our way,
Underhanded in their high pursuits,
And down below we innocently pass the time of day
Playing music that sticks to your boots.

Well, I believe in karma. Every dog will have his day,
And the devil will be somewhere with all of his recruits.
But up in heaven's corner the saints will sing and play
Music that sticks to your boots.

You write good stuff oldsailor, but country music isn't the only thing that sticks to your boots.

OLDSAILOR29

WELL sorry about the mistake

and also another good poem

dgrimm60

RICHARD

YES there is a lot of things that can stick to you boots

smile smile smile smile smile


dgrimm60

You think? :)

pk

You don't say? :)

pk

PKRAUSE

YES I do say

hahahahaha hehehehehe hohohohoho

dgrimm60

I have chosen a couple of my favorite verses to precede another of my feeble attempts at poetry.

It seems to me that Omar may have been influenced by the writings attributed to king Solomon

Selected Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (c.1038-1123), rendered into English verse
by Edward Fitzgerald

A book of Verse beneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

The Moving Finger writes, and having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.


BURIAL AT SEA

I watched the sun go down from a foreign balcony.
I heard a sailor speak, and this is what he said to me.

"I am the ancient mariner, speaking from the sea,
And all my rights and benefits have been explained to me.
One I must remember to pass along to thee,
Every sailor has the right to burial at sea

Though life is very short, and what will be will be,
I welcome one and all to pass some time with me,
For time will come when everyone will know enough to see
That everyone's a sailor on the great celestial sea.

Everybody has a dream or two, it seems to me.
A dream can be a beacon or a siren of the sea.
Dream a dream of truth, for the truth will set you free.
Seek and you shall find your final freedom in the sea.

We may struggle to the mountaintop, the other side to see.
We may navigate the heavens of another galaxy,
But when all is said and done, we will find the fact to be
The salt that circles through our veins is from the primal sea.

I am the ancient mariner, speaking from the mighty sea.
Through the ages sages have passed the time with me
For time reveals the beauty and the wisdom we can see
In the order of the everlasting cycle of the sea.

The ebb and flo and undertow of life will ever be
Coming, going, changing, growing through eternity,
And this you must remember, as it rushes over me,
Every sailor has the right to burial at sea."

Now -- I watch the sunset from my porch in Tennessee.
Neighbors stop and visit, and pass the time with me.
When time is right, the tale is told, as it was told to me,
The story of a sailor, and burial at sea.

OLDSAILOR29

WELL that is a nice poem

dgrimm60

Where have all the poets gone?
I've been wondering...
Return, Oh poets, with songs
for us to read and sing.