Alan W. Jankowski Poems

Faith, it's a beautiful thing,
That little word with the special ring,
It's faith in the things I cannot see,
Like knowing my God is always with me,
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I returned to Paris as in days gone by,
Now that I'm here, I'm not sure why,
For the city that once felt like home,
Is a joyless place when you're alone.
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To be far more than just a rhyme,
An idle way to pass the time,
As you take in my words like a drink,
I want my words to make you think,
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I had a dream just the other night,
That people would no longer fight,
No more wars to be lost or won,
That everyone could live as one.
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He was the voice of those who had no voice,
The spokesman for the oppressed.
He became a true hero to the downtrodden,
Who had been denied their basic human rights.
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I want to teach my dog,
Some tricks that are new,
Like sit, fetch and heel,
As a dog’s expected to do.
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I thank you for letting me love you,

I thank you for letting me know your arms,
Your gentle touch, your delicate charms,
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All the strife and pending doom,
A world outside filled with gloom,
Cannot reach me in my room.
People I meet are so unkind,
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Your passion burns so very deep,
Like secret dreams when you sleep,
The passion burns so deep inside,
Such deep desires that you hide,
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They say that time is the great thief,
Robber of beauty and of looks,
I have heard it spoken times before,
Have read of it in books,
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