Biography of Alexander Beebe
Although I have always enjoyed writing, poetry is something new for me. I started just a few months ago when I sat down to write what was supposed to be a letter to my wife expressing how much she meant to me; it came out as a poem. She encouraged me to continue writing poems and I now have 25 which I hope to put on poem hunter. I hope you enjoy them. Please give your feedback if you read one of my poems and I'll return the favor. Feedback is how we improve and grow as writers/poets. Happy Writing! !
Alexander Beebe Poems
The Essence Of A Godly Wife
She bares the pain and joy of this world with praise and thanksgiving. A man chiseled by life, attempts to conquer what he has already been given. Yet she brings him to his knees, not as to extinguish his heart, but rather to kindle a flame so that God may know he is His own.
A family’s journey in a wagon, heading West to see the sights. Three young children on this passage, two of which are prone to fight. Never hurting one another, just a way to blow some steam. Cross the dessert, over mountains, through the forest and up the streams.
The Face Of Darkness
The inner fabric of our mind consumed with derelict and waste. What energy is spent-what cost to fuel such putrid hate? The walls we build to save our soul;
Abundant earth our God has given some in sight and some well hidden. Beneath the streets that run through cities, towns and farms and pastures plenty. Rolling hills and mountains high, ocean floors and desserts wide. Beneath it all left unseen, lay the veins that fuel the dreams.
When God Made You He Thought Of Me
Of all the people in this world how did I meet you? Was it fate that blessed us with arranging our first rendezvous?
Why I'M Still Single
My baby and I are going out tonight she wants to blow a little steam. Cowboy shirt is starched so nicely, wrangler jeans with laser seams. I love this woman; we plan to marry if I get my head on strait. I better get my act together; the ice is thin, it just might break
The backyard trees a host to many, feathered friends who feed on plenty. A young child’s eyes and ears in tune with what’s expected, how she yearns. The ritual she knows too well, it’s her job to calm the swell. A task that any one could do, but she and Rooster rule this roost.
Ol' Marfa's Light
Ol’ Marfa was a blue tic hound, no owner did she claim. No one knows where she came from or who gave her the name.
Texas Think Tanks
Through out this great state, in every small town In store fronts and cafes can always be found. A bastion of knowledge so eager to share The fix for our country so deep in despair.
The Count-Three And Two
His eyes they pierce the coming storm. Ferocious volley, he orbits the mound. Releasing wrath upon the slayer. The object sought-he prays not found.
Heart Stop Inn
I’m headed south from Cleveland aiming toward the Georgia line. Two weeks I’ll spend with Aunt Lucille, my last surviving Southern tie.
I Sleep With An Angel
The sunlight squeezed through the gap in the blinds and tickled my eyes till my dreams went to sleep. Three minutes remain till the alarm will go off, so I stare at her sleeping and whisper her name.
Long before the rooster crows or dawn releases light Reflections from the blacktop grid detect the amber tide The path well trodden during day is cooling off its burn The weary traveler on its back sneaks through the towns unheard
The porch swing was solace in days gone by, grandpa would whittle at evenings tide. The smell of pies cooling in windows near, I on the porch stoop with fun on my mind. Our farm was productive as many around, intended for commerce–four generations now. Johnny and I would sneak off to town, a lot more chatter and yelling we found.
Weary of the fight, she put her heart upon the mantle.
Eager to embrace the solitude that has found her.
Never knowing what she’d done to be deserving of his kind.
The passage thru the secret garden is where she rests her mind.
Past the doors that mark the hallways of her thoughts.
Glimpsing in she sees the fragments of a life.
Fleeting moments that rest her weary heart.
Struggles that surround her senses, sharpened words that tore apart.