It was a dream of wonder, such as when I was a young boy,

Through the air I flew in search of a magic moment of joy,

My red cape blowing in the wind creating a turbulence tail,

I was Superman strong because I was a super hero of tale,

Age eight is a beautiful age of childhood dreams and fun,

Everything is new and wonderful that you haven’t done,

An old car tire can bring so many different games to life,

In my backyard where little boys are hidden from life’s strife,

Daddy please join me, mama you can play too if you want to,

I have a lot of cars, red or blue, I have at least a gazillion two,

See my road daddy made for me to play upon but I was bad,

I hurt his feelings but I just wanted a circle at the end I had,

My heart suddenly feels heavy just thinking about that time,

Daddy, I’m so sorry if you are in a place to read this rhyme,

Little boys can’t stop their mouths at times when it’s wrong,

Daddy I wanted to be a good man just like you, nice and strong,

Against a line of trees that harbored cicadas that sang at night,

My daddy built a road for me to play upon to little boy’s delight,

I ran my cars up and down the road stopping at a brick home,

One lone brick with drawn on windows, and a roof of foam,

My backyard has a baseball diamond also a basketball goal,

How I wish I was there again, for but a minute, I’d pay the toll,

To have my mama kiss my booboo and make me whole again,

To see my daddy wink at me as my hit helped my team win,

In my dream we stopped in the alley behind my house to play,

Erosion created a narrow creek cut into the earth a special way,

One foot wide and three foot deep, large enough to dig roads,

Roads for little cars and a dump truck for the real heavy loads,

Little figurines were all about creating a city on the cliff’s side,

Cliff’s Side was the name of my town that I had built with pride,

Then I saw all the kids playing in our backyard swimming pool,

On a hot summer day it was lots of fun and a good way to cool,

Once I was a miner and I dug tunnels to mine for gold ore,

It was then I discovered I have to get permission to dig before,

So many dimensions existed in my backyard of mostly fun,

Once when young my mother didn’t know me from anyone,

I was eleven when my mother’s mind gave way to her woes,

Perhaps it was my seven siblings and me for all this boy knows,

What did I do wrong I wonder as I cry hidden behind a tree,

Not until I heard my daddy, if not for him a little boy would flee,

Three of my friends lost their mamas so very young in life,

Such pain shouldn’t be known by children, it cuts like a knife,

As I gain altitude I fly Coble Drive four blocks to the park,

The neighborhood boys are there playing baseball until dark,

Long after the others had left I hit my six balls then gave chase,

If I hit one far I could hear the crowds roar as I touched each base,

I was famous then palling around with Mantle and Maris in my head,

Whitey Ford would pitch and throw his curve ball that I so dread,

In the distance I hear a melody played, it’s “Pop Goes the Weasel,”

I’ll buy ice cream for everyone but first help me pick off these teasel,

Those sticky plants are stuck to me from mowing a neighbor’s yard,

To see a 12 year old asking to mow their yard caught most off guard,

As the setting sun reduced playing time we would play kick the can,

Wholesome fun with the neighborhood would affect me as a man,

We’d watch TV in the living room floor to feel the coolers cool air,

Evaporative coolers worked so good on hot summers back there,

Nine little brothers and sisters would gather round and wrestle me,

Our family bond was tighter than most families and always will be,

At age twelve I told my mother I wanted to be married happily,

Told I was too young to want such thing and to think of a degree,

When I was but twelve I dreamed of a little girl I needed to save,

So beautiful she was but when boys were mean I had to be brave,

All the boys will want you but you must find a way to wait for me,

As a boy I regularly saw into the future so often it was true mystery,

I was a big boy but still a kid when the letter came taking me away,

Don’t take me, I beg, I don’t want to kill please allow me to stay,

When I had to go I took in one last breath of the fresh Texas air,

Drafted by the Navy so I thought I didn’t have to go over there,

Less than a year there’s bullets all around, Patti! How I love you so,

Hesitated for a moment, there’s dead men all around everywhere I go,

As I sat in deep reflection i looked up into a mirror startled by what I see,

The youth of my existence died that day in a day of death and tragedy,

In the flash of a barrel and a trigger pulled death became the goal,

I look back on that day when what little boy remained fate stole,

Never again will I have the childlike innocence I had as a young man,

Memories I’ll hold dear and feel invigorated holding your little hand,

How I longed for my backyard when the fray began to surround me,

Yet tragedy struck once again as I realized I’d never play again so free,

Tragedy struck and the events brought my honorable discharge to me,

Arriving home my first duty was to depart that yard and move my family,

I was a broken man upon my return after three months hospital stay,

It broke my heart but I went out with little car in hand as a boy to play,

Tearfully I scrapped a road in the same place my daddy had built for me,

Then I gathered what belongings remained and I sadly moved my family.

The end, by Pat.

It was a melody so addictive I wanted to hold you the night through,

Twas’ more a symphony that exponentially amplified my love of you,

I feel I’ve known you a thousand years or at least nine ninety nine,

And during ninety nine point nine percent I have called you mine,

To at last pull you close was akin to a reuniting of my soul to flesh,

The moment your lips touched mine I felt as if my life began afresh,

I’ve grown my angel, oh how I have grown as a man because of you,

Compare the opaque skies blemished with smog to crisp clear blue,

Perhaps you are a hurricane that cleansed the isle of “Me” to start anew,

And so I began, cleansed of all past habits that I am devoted to solely you,

My heart had been yours since birth, I have no doubt of this being true,

Yet I needed an awakening of sorts to bring memories of past through,

My reincarnations through time have been of each to bring my love,

To reunite my heart with you, two hearts beyond what most think of,

A symphony of celestial significance written of the heavens above,

Storybook romances and fairytale loves will never know such love,

Of this I am sure, our love through time is a significant discovery in history,

My heart has known you forever, how I don’t know, this to me is a mystery,

Significantly precious love, pregnant love is another meaning misunderstood,

Pregnant love means abundantly filled with rather than the usual motherhood,

My heart is near bursting with love if written descriptive for this little rhyme,

Although I describe it as “little rhyme” it is significant as the words are mine,

Sincerely written from the depths of my heart with each contraction in time,

Timed with the pulse of the universe, each so significant of love it is sublime,

Sublime love, sublime heart pulses, anything of you is sublime, this is true,

I am overwhelmed of you, in awe I study features as you sleep, I adore you, Forever I will be of you, my heart beats each beat that I may continue to love,

This poem if written of love, no other reason but to say “you are all I think of.”

The end, by Pat. I love you Patti

I watched a movie of the boys coming back from World War Two,

To be very honest for the men of Vietnam it made me very blue,

Why they called them the boys that fought that war I don’t know,

They were war heroes no doubt as they often fought toe to toe,

For four years the U.S. was militarily involved in the “Great War,”

Just ten short years later our country sadly took on even more,

As our military advisers went to South Asia they thought it right,

In nineteen hundred and sixty five we sent thousands off to fight,

The truth of that war is lost to most Americans that didn’t care,

It mattered deeply to the men of America that had to fight there,

Vietnam with American troops involved stretched on for ten years,

That most of us weren’t welcomed home has caused many tears,

The percentage dead is exactly the same as World War II’s deaths,

As long as I live I won’t let Vietnam be the war our country forgets,

I understand American protestors hate of us going to war again,

And why did the hate for servicemen and disrespecting us begin?

We were called men by our country and those that hated us so,

We Vietnam “men” were 22 and WW II was 26 if you care to know,

Perhaps had we been boys we would have been welcomed home,

Grown men should stand on their own needing no one to stand alone,

I walked home alone because even my family didn’t care to come,

In my home town many knew I was in Nam yet I was welcomed by one,

An angel of mercy and love that had one thought that I was home,

So many died from my hometown most in my neighborhood alone,

If only we had a welcome home even belated is better than none,

Had we men or non boys of youth had support we could have won,

I’ve cried over spilt milk for my fellowmen too often, even me some,

So many should be thankful for what we damaged men have done,

Many of us have gone home now to a welcome home in heaven,

Gathered to drink beer plus wine and eat bread of heaven’s leaven,

Each man will be greeted at heavens gate by a countryman of spirit,

Along with family that loved us perhaps being loved will become habit,

Those precious teens that lost limb, youth, and innocence will be whole,

Youth is a tragic loss but even more-so innocence lost takes a tragic toll,

I’d swear from looking in the hardened vets you’d think they had no soul,

I asked them to pray with me but when “what for?” came I failed to extol,

Instead I chose to pray for them in hopes their humanity returns,

It was hell as it seems our goal was to prove that everything burns,

Napalm and agent orange were our new secret weapons of destruction,

Defoliate plants and cremate every living human all in one application,

I wonder I do, do protestors of past actually believe soldiers want war,

Draftees had a one in three chance of dying for those that kept score,

The saddest fact is that sixty one percent were under age twenty one,

Seeing angels was a common thing when a young soldier’s life was done,

I’d swear if all was quiet you’d hear the sounds of large wings in the night,

We saw the silhouette of an angel lifting off against a blue moon in full flight,

So many held a teddy bear as he laid on the stretcher away the moment,

I saw them smile in happiness as their soul left behind war’s torment,

I was a man when I came home but most should have come home boys,

It’s saddened me so much that most should have been home finding joy,

Nay it wasn’t to be as the sad cruelties of war crucified their innocence,

They paid their youth to America and America paid their youth a pittance,

Don’t think I’m not a Patriot as I fought hard and I am proud that I did,

My disgust is in the youth of my generation that spit upon us then hid,

Now they deny the history and have tried to destroy film with their face,

Perhaps they are the same that deny the Holocaust ever took place,

I’m lost in this rhyme as it rambles so much disgust from my mind,

Worry not America for the writer of such lines will one day be blind,

To scribe no more, to rant no more upon paper but aloud to be heard,

For the sad Vietnam Vet, the sad eyed Vet starving, I have one word.

HERO!

The end.

In the wonder of your eyes love’s beauty is truthfully found,

From twinkle to sparkle your eyes raise me up when I’m down,

Your plush red lips would be cherished if carved in stone alone,

Red lips so beautiful without embellishment are rarely known,

Long ago as I traced your profile with my fingers I felt you so well,

As my fingertips touched every feature I felt your love as if a spell,

So many photos of you I rubbed through as I prayed nightly for you,

I was a silly young man to cry as all were copies I rubbed through,

Such feelings I can’t put into words yet I’ve felt them all my life,

We have been together fifty years and I’m still in awe of my wife,

There’s more to me than you’ll ever know yet I have tried so hard,

I’ve tried very hard to allow entry to my mind although I’m scarred,

You are the one that has fulfilled my every dream in every way,

The scars brought by the draft and being sent so very far away,

While away I cherished every moment I had with you deep inside,

I truly believe if not for my loving you I would have surely died,

Yes, I put you on a pedestal so very long ago and you shall remain,

You are so deserving although you argue, please let me explain,

To know your every secret fills me with joy that in me you trust,

You are the golden treasure that has brought glory to fading rust,

When I hear your voice I wait anxiously to see you as if my duty,

As you play with grandkids I watch in awe of your enduring beauty,

If ever you could feel my heartbeat as you just walk into the room,

I see you as a beautiful flower from heaven not yet in full bloom,

Most remarkable is that everyone saw your beauty but for one,

Can it be true that such a goddess has no vanity, not even some?

I give witness for eternity that such an angel has never been vain,

Each year has brought more beauty to your beautiful little frame,

Graying hair has brought added beauty in such a wonderful way,

Each lovely hair of grey is a gift from heaven given to you each day,

Your profile is of ageless beauty such as jewels or precious gold,

Thus I am the richest man on earth knowing I have you to hold.

The end,

By Pat for my beautiful angel Patti

I’m bound to you forever by the rust specs in your eyes,

Hazel speckled by rust and wrapped in blue of dark skies,

Each night as you sleep I am lost in your beauty I can’t deny,

A teardrop of love often falls from my eye as I try not to cry,

Tears of joyful celebration that we have been married so long,

If only I had skills of a musician I would write a beautiful song,

A gift of love must be sincere when it comes from man of rust,

I’ve looked deep inside my mind but somehow I find only dust,

My worth alone is of little value for without you near I am void,

Time now moves so rapidly as if the hands have been destroyed,

Acceleration of time takes place each time you are in my hold,

Absent your touch each minute is an eternity while I grow old,

Stardust fell from the sky to form a pathway just for you,

We know it as the Milky Way displayed for everyone to view,

As particles of stardust fall to earth the fairies gather around,

From diamond dust to desert dust it is finest fairy dust found,

Perhaps the mystery of your youth is what dust fell on you,

As I’ve fallen to decay and rust your beauty is exciting to view,

When I am ill the burden of love is shown in your beautiful eyes,

A dust of fortune must have fallen on me as I studied the skies,

If love is a burning ember then I’m ablaze with love for you,

Fate stood before me at loves door enticing me to go through,

I’m not a fool you know, as I cherish each moment of my life,

I love you Patti, I’m so thankful you chose to be my wife.

The end, by Pat for Patti

My brother Bob brought to me a gift that means so very much,

Little does he know one of my fears of family is to lose touch,

He brought a book to me with Catholic prayers from a war,

To hear his voice and laugh in person meant so much more,

Bob know this please I’ve placed it near my other family treasure,

A photograph of Patti and Daddy’s work ID that I keep secure,

Each time I see the book I’ll remember the one dad gave me,

It disappeared in wars fury but somehow I avoided tragedy,

The gun I fired from a patrol boats nose was the caliber he carried,

It was by chance the same weapon, not something that I wanted,

Yet I am amazed he carried that 50 caliber machine everywhere,

It’s hard to imagine his strength to carry the load he had to bear,

Most don’t survive that task, he simply credits prayer from a book,

Many weren’t able to carry the machine, think of the fortitude it took,

The weight of the gun plus ammunition says a lot about his strength,

To accomplish a most needed goal my father would go to any length,

I thought of him often as bullets echoed and spray came flying by,

Praying to gain his strength and determination to fight, not to die,

Twice my father presented a prayer book to me much to my surprise,

It wasn’t that I thought he didn’t believe but he was secretly folk wise,

An error of youth because I didn’t pay attention to his daily deeds,

He silently endured through illness for love of the children he feeds,

Each Sunday he went to Mass and quietly entered the confessional,

I wondered what sin is committed by this man that gave me a missal,

The small pocket missal meant more to me than anyone can know,

I’d carry it everywhere because it was given me by daddy to show,

That he loved me and was truly worried about where I had to go,

I kept it with me always along with a photo of the girl I loved so,

War is hell, a place where the youngest of men lose youth or life,

Unless you have been there it is impossible to understand the strife,

My second time to that horrible place found me doing awful things,

I became so filled with the guilt that doing those awful things brings,

After a completed mission of which I was the only man to return,

I fled as hard as I could for miles until my lungs began to burn,

Extraction wouldn’t come unless I made the rendezvous on time,

I heard the Huey’s roar as it was lifting to leave another man behind,

But for the keen eye of the pilot and prayers I screamed out load,

I would be lost forever and be another fatality on wars bloody road,

As they pulled me up I felt my book fall, desperately I tried to jump out,

Touching down would jeopardize all, that’s not what the book is about,

I actually cried because of what that tiny book had meant to me,

It didn’t matter in war, men often cried out loud for everyone to see,

So many things ran through my mind as I finally realized it all,

I’d survived what I was not trained for and through prayer I didn’t fall,

I’ve got many secrets I will never reveal regarding things I’ve done,

Memories I’ve tried to forget but that day of desperation is not one,

Men hold many things dear in war from letters to photos and more,

A soldier died holding his teddy bear asking what we’re fighting for,

Those memories returned to me but I want all to know its okay,

I like thinking of my pocket prayer book although I lost it that day,

Miracles of war occur at times when you don’t expect a thing,

People need to be aware of miracles and what they can bring,

I have a trunk that had remained locked for twenty years or more,

Daddy gave it to me before I left home to soon go off to war,

Twenty years ago I opened my trunk to find my prayer book there,

I have no doubt my daddy’s spirit put it there with love and care,

At that time I needed blessings to bring back what illness took,

Was it a miracle I could work again, brought by Daddy’s little book?

Gratefully I gave thanks for the miracle that prayer and love brought,

But from that trunk it disappeared or was it placed where I forgot,

So Bobby I hope you now understand why the words didn’t come,

To be honest if I said a lot, I would have cried in front of everyone,

The tiniest thoughtful deeds are sometimes the greatest gift given,

A little book of prayer passed on may be another’s ticket to heaven.

The end, by Pat