Biography of Hm. Nes
Hm. Nes Poems
The Tale Of William Tell
The arrow flew, but none could tell If apple pierced or humble son, Until one or the other fell- Determined contest lost or won.
I hail from Butte, Montana; Although Bob, Louisiana Is the place I go when winter catches cold. As Faribault, Minnesota,
Sir Edmund Hillary first achieved (For centuries unattained) The summit of earth's highest peak, And what did he there gain?
I feared her scent That it was more than I could bear In this present condition In this tenuous state of mind
Alternating legends Twixt the forest and the sea- 'The monster, ' some say, 'keeps to the water! ' While others claim, 'The trees! '
The red bird oft reminds me of The Father's always love Especially on days when joy does fade With echoes of the past and pressures
For Edgar Allan
No not alone I dare suggest, Though all alone you felt; the rest Forsaking you upon the stage Midst blinding light and audience rage.
Cats And Scars, The Moon And Stars
My cat leaves home Most nights to roam, Compelled by the moon and stars. For go he must,
Who Wants To Be Burned?
My father warned me. Mother warned me. My neighbor, Gilbert Jeffrey Swain, often warned me. (Gilbert is fourteen and knows these things.)
So Many Saves
We celebrate the whippoorwill we saved in the garden from the cat.
Not every man can travel to A land with fancy elephants That dance and sing and take him for a ride. Nor can each man acquire a tan
Dancing Into The Rain
A chill breeze Wafting through the window Rouses me from sleep. Late again!
Once More I Rise
Once more I rise My eyes, my lungs filled with the dust Of the arena floor
The Real Mccoy
The real McCoy, some say, was Bill, a shipbuilder by trade, Who joined the ranks of rum runners that prohibition made. 'Real rum, ' he boasted. 'Not like them who water down their booze.' So drink to Captain Bill, the real McCoy, and all his crews.
No More Gay
I don't need words as much as words need me,
For I may live in silence; not so words,
Which cannot survive in obscurity.
And oft words lose their true identity
From ill-use of vulgar mouths; blessed words-
Destroyed, defaced, banished to infamy.
O that good men could once again be gay,