Once there was a wild man,
A comin' down the road.
I threw up my shotgun
And gave him a double load.
...
Phone talks on cold days,
Long walks on warm days,
Lonely November mornings,
and December nights.
...
Winter
Brisk wind, clear skies
Brown leaves and leafless trees
Bright sun that warms toes, hands and shoulders
...
Why do I write poems,
with lines that often rhyme?
Someday I will surely see
It is just a waste of time.
...
I walked the dusty road,
My soul alone-my mind in peace.
Then I could dream or ponder
Thoughts of you and I together.
...
The chillness of winter
The colour of fall
The wealth of the universe
make me feel small.
...
The Wild Man
Once there was a wild man,
A comin' down the road.
I threw up my shotgun
And gave him a double load.
The shotgun didn't stop,
He didn't even slow.
So, I hit him with a crowbar
in the middle of his toes.
He let out a holler
you could hear a mile awy.
He stumbled in the ditch
on a very large pile of hay.
When he wakened in the morning
he let out a mighty roar.
He ran toward my house
and busted down the door.
I grabbed up a hammer.
I hit him in the head.
He didn't wake up this time,
for he was stone cold dead.