Gary Bryson Poems

Lord, Lord, I cannot see,
The blind cried in the way.
Lord, Lord, please set me free,
Grant me my sight today.
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A ribbon of smoke
In the cool crisp air,
Hangs in the valley there.
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The Way, the Truth, and the Life, I AM,
I AM the good shepherd,
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Such evil born the way you came,
To claim your laurels in religious fame.
And the Beloved learn to fear your name,
Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?
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What frozen waste we do not know,
A million miles of ice and snow.
Where sled dogs broke a virgin path,
A continent where no man has passed.
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Useless ash upon the hearth
That looks out on my soul.
The life, the light, the cheery warmth,
Expires and now lays cold.
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Love of simple rhyme:
So for you some new Haiku.
Enjoy in your time.
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Such a little thing we call the ant,
It seems he has no word for “can’t”.
They’ll climb up over, around, and through,
It seems there is nothing ants can’t do.
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Warm beds within walls made of knotty pine,
Under dark covers, with a flashlight that’s mine.
Crystal radios, like small rocket ships are
Our links to the world, and a faraway star.
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Sharp talons, sharp eye:
Soaring hunter in the sky.
Somewhere a mouse hides.
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