M Paul Burress Poems

If on a quest,
For wisdom's best,
Use caution with heads turned Grey.
For that silver top,
...

Oh the times that I've been told:
Hey! 'You're ruining your life? '
When I try to explain it
only stirs up more strife
...

I do not consider myself special, and you probably will never hear of me, other than this little written piece of explanation. I must say, I am not a person endowed with great natural gifts or abilities. Neither do I make claims to fame, or to a nobleman's title. I possess no riches other than my simple life, and it seems great holdings of real estate were for others to gain. Most likely the only monument to me will be raised over my remains to mark their placement. Lastly, I am probably only known by God, who made me and gave me my purpose.
So, I will use a story to tell you who and what I am.

* I am like a man who went to walk on the seashore one morning after a raging night of storm. The receding tide had left the sands literally covered with Starfish. The man observed the plight of the stranded starfish and began to pick them up and place them back into the sea. Soon, another strolling man approached him to ask, 'Why are you doing that? ' and He replied, 'The sun will be full up in a little while and the heat will destroy the stranded Starfish.' 'But” said he: 'what difference can you possibly make? ' 'This beach is ten miles long and there are millions of them.'
...

Traveling in a day dream, I, the other day,
Returned to a place, of long ago, and far away.
The family was all there, and it seemed that each face
Beckoned, 'Turn aside a little while and a memory we'll retrace.'
...

There's a community near me whose inhabitants all descend from the same pioneer ancestor.
These people seriously compete daily with each other to see who can do the dumbest thing.
Well, to tell you the truth, we never expect all that much out of em, 'cause it's whispered that their ancestor, way back yonder, was kicked in the head by a mule and knocked permanently senseless.
Nobody knows for sure just how hard the mule kicked him, but it must have been pretty hard, because so far it's gone through eight generations of his off spring and still going.
...

“Miseries Defeat”

by M Paul Burress
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It matters not to the flower,
If never viewed of human eye.
It blooms for the owner,
Who gardens from on high.
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Am I Gifted or What?

by M Paul Burress
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