Saturday, October 13, 2012

Poems by Freddie Fowler

 

Freddie lives in Florida and is in the process of publishing his first book of poems. He is originally from Lorain, Ohio.

       




           
     Children of war
                           
                                  Little Jimmy is not
                              playing ball anymore
                            Susie no longer buys candy from
                              the neighborhood grocery store

                                 Mr. Johnson can't
                                    scream at the kids in the street
                                 Mrs. Jones sits at the bus stop
                                        with no one to meet.

                              All of these life events
                                 will happen no more
                                       because all of our children
                                             have gone off war

                        What is mercy?
                                       
    
    What is mercy?
    Is it the stories
    We were told?
    Stories both young and old?

   
    What is mercy?
    Is it grace?
    Did it bring
    Us to this place?

    What is mercy?
    Is it all the things
    We hold onto?
    Is it words the choir sings?

    Do we search for it
    In our time of need?
    Is mercy in the
    Bible we read?

    Is mercy something
    We can give?
    Or is mercy
    The life we live?


    I know it's something
    We cannot see,
    But I'm forever grateful
    To God and all his mercy.

                     Friend or Foe

                                                are you a friend
                                                         or foe
                           friends I need
                             foes I don't

                            will you stand by me
                      as my friend
               will you be
                  there until the end

                 will you be there
                 when it's time to fight
                 or be the one
                 who takes flight
   
                                it's time
                             for me to go
                         which will it be:
                          friend or foe

                   Happy Day
                           
you know you’re happy
when you can say

“It's such a beautiful day.
It's great to have it this way."

when the sun shines
upon your face
and you've
done nothing

to have it this way

everyday
is a new birth
you have one more day
above the earth

to sit and watch the
children play
with tears in your eyes
you watch them and then say

“This is a happy day.”

                     Make It Go Away

I cannot sleep this dreadful night
for tomorrow will soon come
time to face the things I dread
things that I've been running from.

Run run run I run so fast
from the sins I hold within 
from those things that are my past
tearing at my mortal skin

How can I make this go away
when can I see a brighter day

I hear a voice from far away
saying it’s easy my son just kneel and pray

                        When I Die

                                                   When I die
                                         What will they say about me
                                                   When I die
                                         Which of you will defend
                                                me in the end
                                                Who will say my life
                                                      was just a lie

                                                     When I die

                                           All of you are not my friends but
                                                   Some of you will say
                                        I was good and kind
                                                   Some will think otherwise

                                     To all my friends I leave behind
                                                Even all the enemies of mine 
                                         Of all the words I fear the most
                                           They come from the Father
                                                The Son and the Holy Ghost

                                                  To all who will discuss me and
                                                          Tell vicious lies
                                                    None of that will matter
                                                              

                                                            When I die

            
How much do I love thee

How much do I love thee?
No, I won't count the ways.
I won't count the 

weeks and months,
Nor will I count the days.

I'll only count the times we
Cried and laughed the night away;
The moments we walked
Hand in hand,
Starring into each others eyes.
 

I’ll only count the times
We shared the little things,
 Like each others smile.

When people see us together,
Happy and filled with glee,
You never have to ask again
 How much do I love thee.

                           You
 
                            I've never seen
                                    your smiling face
                              or looked into your eyes

                        I've never heard
                    your tender voice
                        or laughter
                              when you rejoice 

                 I really wish
                           to see you
                         I really, really do
                                 

 until that day
                    comes true
                             I'll  just
                               imagine you
                                          
   
                 Forgotten soldier

He fought for his country when he was
            Younger.
            Braver.
            More heroic.
            Bolder.


He fought through summer heat
Even when it grew colder;
For all the fighting he's done,
He's a forgotten solider.

Yes, he got shiny medals,
From his days of battle glories;
Now he’s not so young, 
As he tells his war time stories.

Sitting in silence on the side of his bed,
His body is much, much older;
All he has are memories past,
He’s become a forgotten soldier.


                                     Crying from within
People look at him
When they pass him by
Thinking he looks angry
But they don’t know why

Some people say he looks sad
Some say he looks real bad

No one offers to be a friend
Or say a kind word
Or make a friendly gesture

But here he is without
A single friend
No one to talk to
No next of kin

No beginning or ending
To his quiet suffering
No end to his
Silent crying from within


poems copyrighted by Freddie Fowler

No comments: