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.
Lawerence Mize, Sr. Poems
Be Not Afraid
Be not afraid As you climb the hill Look back behind you Take in your fill
Ode To Baltimore
Rode by houses I lived in in the day Now boarded-up relics wood rot and decay
Hot summer sun Crab cakes on a bun A cooling breeze To put you at ease
The shadows come The shadows go Usually when I'm weak Or feeling really low
Flat on my back All sick and blue Long cold days of winter With nothing to do
Born in a place that no longer exists. Life's been a blur, a long lonely trip.
Sometimes when I sit In my comfortable chair I think of the world And the unrest that's there
Mind's busy Things to do Worried about the order Looked up, saw you.
The Old Man
A frail old man Sat in the corner alone A quiet poet Waiting to go home
Me And My Baby
Warm Rays of sun...Shinning Through the venetian blinds Lazy Sunday afternoon Nothing to find
How do you keep Bad thoughts at bay When your angry and confused At the end of the day
It started one day many years ago. Me and the kids traveling the high road.
Know how it feels To be alone To suffer in silence In a chaotic home
The Bad People
Bad people around everywhere you go pulling you down letting you know
Birds are crying
wings beat the air.
Bills filled with oil
no one seems to care.
Fish are no good
no safe place to land.
Feathers all matted
need a helping hand.