Gary Vanderbur

A piece of paper and a pen.
That's all you really need.
Write a few words and leave them behind.
Something that will catch the eye of a demanding public.
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See how the edge gleams in the light?
(I tell ya, there's nuthin' like a good piece of Gillette steel.)
It feels so good in my hand
(And right now, it's all you need...)
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Sit down upon Me, O weary one.
Rest and bask in the sun.
Cares have no place upon My seat.
Cast them down at My feet.
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The night wind blows across the field
Playing a mournful tune.
It's breeze has scattered the flowers about
And steals dirt from the mound.
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Love
Making, breaking,
Aching, quaking, shaking,
Living a full life
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Poetry
Descriptive, insightful
flowing, provoking, doubting
Words working together to deliver a message
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Weather
Earth's lving heart
Wind, rain, snow, sun, hail, ice
Bringing forth life and causing death
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Have you ever looked up on a hot summer day,
And notice the clouds busy at play?

They scuttle around the sky
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Stop the clock!
I'd like to get in,
Into the corridors of time.
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In the far distance, a bell is tolling.
I find myself listening to its sound.
Joyously ringing, its peals extolling.
Then why do I feel as if I am bound?
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Genesis 1: 17 *
by Gary W. Vanderbur
© April 15,1985 (revised August 15,2007)
Write Naturally Publishing House
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Godspeed, Queen Admiral Hestorb,
In your fine and large ship.
May you find success and more
On your exploratory trip.
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Aimlessly, I wander inside my mind.
Floating, I let the gentle breeze of a thought lift me up.
Lazily, I drft, letting nothing and everything carry me along.
There is no now and there was then forever.
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I am but an egg, oblong and white
Rolling perilously forward, full of fright.

Closer and closer comes the edge,
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In the midst of troubles, you stand by me.
And the troubled waters of my soul are stilled.

In the midst of anger, you intervene.
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There they sit knowing all,
And yet, knowing nothing.

They see through uncaring eyes
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1. Be Them
Be them day; be them night.
Be them gay; be them tight.
Together see them.
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Way down up in the hills of Tennessee,
Lives an old man you won't believe.
Goes by the name of Lucas James
And this here story's about his fame.
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Mr. Sun, Mr. Sun, please shine on me.
Help me, oh, help me make the blahs flee.

Mr. Sun, Mr. Sun, please light my way.
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Falling, into what?
Something I cannot sense.
A void; vast, incomprehensible nothingness.
Around me the silence assails my ears.
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