Poems of jim foulk
|101.||The Moon so high||12/17/2006|
|102.||The moth hound||12/13/2006|
|103.||The Old Checkered Coat||12/14/2006|
|104.||The Storm within Us||12/19/2006|
|105.||the storms have passed||12/12/2006|
|106.||The wheels of time||12/14/2006|
|107.||Thinking of the Past||12/14/2006|
|108.||Tip of My Memory||4/22/2007|
|109.||To Much Hair||4/11/2007|
|110.||Too Many Chicks||4/16/2007|
|111.||Tortosise and the Hare: The true story||4/14/2007|
|112.||Trapped In Time||2/15/2007|
|113.||Travels of a Rock||4/7/2007|
|115.||Until that day comes||12/17/2006|
|116.||up, up, you go||12/17/2006|
|117.||What Makes the Clouds Echo Roar||12/14/2006|
|118.||Why, oh Why||12/23/2006|
|119.||You Can't Tell||1/23/2007|
Poems are part of me
Poems are part of me, until
I become part of them.
I have to write, what I hear, see and feel.
When poems are written, the world shall stop
and listen to what was said,
as a poet, I hope it's not a flop.
When ever I die, the poem will live on,
always read, always praised,
long after I'm gone.