Christmas 1997



Our loves...our gloves,
our pushes...our shoves,
what we believe...clouds above,
our boredom...those drugs to love.

Our cutting edge...our strife,
a power saw...our carpentry knife,
a bugle...a fife,
the Christ...our life?

Our beds...hats on our heads,
penciil leads...crackers and breads,
garages and sheds...toboggans and sleds,
old painful wounds...that always bled.

Our dogs...fireplace logs,
cloudy times...soupy fogs,
bourbon and cokes...eggnog ond ice cream floats,
DVDs and incense smoke...sweaters and thick coats.

Where do we look for God?

Our many wrongs...our favorite songs,
silver bells...brass gongs,
Dinner for two...chowders and stews,
when we tag along...when we're a tad too strong.

Our chairs...our prayers,
city police...city mayors,
three piece suits...buttonhole tears,
mountain lions...grizzly bears.

Our hopes...our coats,
our detergent...our bars of soap,
fishing line...saddles and ropes,
ice cream sundaes...boats that float.

Our greeds...religious creeds,
green vegetables...garden seeds,
four-leaf clovers...Mississippi River reeds,
bumps in the night...loving pet peeves.

Our many colored eyes...many teary whys,
many hopeful tries...all the loser's sighs,
soldiers and weapons...spies and lies,
all the many smiles...so many long goodbyes.

Is it sincere for one...bias for all,
is this why our People...still cry?
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Submitted on May 07, 2015

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:06 min read
5

Quick analysis:

Scheme AABB CCCC DDDX EEFF X GGXX HXHH FXXX IIIX JJJJ XX
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 1,307
Words 218
Stanzas 11
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 2

Lucian Tower

I began writing Lyrics, short stories, and poetry some 43-years-ago. When I was in high school, during the 60s, I met the great Robert Frost. He spoke to me about my real elementary attempts at writing and poetry. He took some time with me, after assembly hall and told me to not stop writing. Now, that I have been around the world as a USMarine, and have lived through 2-years of the Vietnam War, I still am writing. Now at 63-years-old, I am enjoying being on Poetry.com with you all. I was born 12/21/1948, in Worcester, MA. There I began trying to write lyrics at 5-years-old, on my Grandmother's piano -- this has been a life-time ambition/Hobby for me. I live now in Gallatin, TN, and I am disabled/retired from the vietnam war.This is how I move around and, hopefully, meet others of like mind/spirit. I am mostly American Indian and 4th Generation Irish in the USA. My poetry are moments, which I've seen, and lived during my life. I believe allpoetry are photos, or glimpses into moments of life. Styles have changed over the years, and it is in reading/listening to others' poems that give poets ideas and imaginations to build their own style. This is who I am, as a man, who simply loves the written arts/preforming arts. Keep on writing!Lucian Tower. more…

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