Lynn W. Petty Poems

I closed the cover of a book, just read;
A book of poetry, whose thoughts had touched
The sanctum sanctorum of my being.
I sat in silence pondering the depth
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How deep our memories lie,
Beneath the silt and sediment of mind,
Deposited by the turbid stream of life.
Each succeeding springtime thaw swells
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I stand In the shadows of thought,
Devoid of the art of thinking;
Assembling meaningless words
In rows of senseless creation.
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Fashioned out of a parkish setting is a small,
commemorative garden, dedicated in memoriam
to the short-lived life of a beloved child.
A retreat, created by her parents who believe
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There lived a man of gentle heart and soul,
Who lead a life of modest wants and cares.
There seemed to be a commonality
With all of human kind but, deep beneath
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Thoughts we create are the seeds that will grow.
Mind is the plot we prepare to receive.
Life is the soil into which we must sow.
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I leapt from the precipice of reason into the supernal abyss of faith.
Uprising on the winds of mystical contemplation,
Discharging all senses and actions of thought,
I came into a darkness, a darkness that is beyond light,
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Manila Bay, Philippines 1944.

'Object in the water dead
Ahead, Sir, ' came the bow-watch
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For Ryan, My Grandson.

My first encounter with him was when we were left
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