Lawerence Mize, Sr.
Biography of Lawerence Mize, Sr.
Was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1949. Enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1966 and served in the Republic of Vietnam with the 101st Airborne Division. Haunted by my experiences in Vietnam I began to write poems to help me cope with the painful memories I still carry.
I am currently retired from the Baltimore City Police Department. Poems I've submitted on PoemHunter.Com are about a range of issues and things that matter to me.
Lawerence Mize, Sr.'s Works:
Tortured Soul 1997.American Literary Press, Inc. Dead Men Calling 2002.American Literary Press, Inc. Both works of poetry about experiences in Vietnam as a combat medic. Thoughts of You 2011, Poems on Life, Love, And Family, Tatepublishing.com. Reflections 2013. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.
- My America -new-
Lawerence Mize, Sr. Poems
Ode To Baltimore
Rode by houses I lived in in the day Now boarded-up relics wood rot and decay
Be Not Afraid
Be not afraid As you climb the hill Look back behind you Take in your fill
The Bad People
Bad people around everywhere you go pulling you down letting you know
A Father's Heart
A father's heart is very strong Can take life's hits weather any storm
We stayed at The Fairthorne in old Cape May A romantic hide-away perfect for any day
Cell phones are great so easy to use push a button text a message
A poem is no good left in a book with closed pages it needs to be circulated shared down through the ages
Over 40 Years
Time and bad memories kept me captive and alone I sought the warmth of a loving home
Before all our lights go dim we'll look at the past and say, remember when. When time caught us all together
Years ago over hills and streams I walked
It starts with a slight A misspoken word A certain look A conversation not heard
One klick, two klicks, three klicks...four. Walking in the bush can't take no more.
I went to Bien Hoa to see a wounded friend. Walked to the Aid Station inquired within.
It started one day many years ago. Me and the kids traveling the high road.
A poem is no good
left in a book with closed pages
it needs to be circulated
shared down through the ages
Good or bad
Long or short
Poems are thoughts
meant to report