Greg Weber

Greg Weber Poems

same old fly is on the screen door
pacing back and forth/up and down to and fro
biding time… waiting to get in
pancakes on the griddle
...

overlooking the wood
there was a hole
in my bedroom
gone unfilled/
...

Greg Weber Biography

t seems to me you innately know your life path. How you came to be here. Where you came from. Until, that is, someone requests you write a short bio. For all the interest in the craft of writing one might have, one… draws a… blank. Nonetheless, here goes… A Midwest kid from blue collar Wisconsin I migrated to Texas in ‘81 after graduate school and ahead of the economic boom in pursuit of work and a woman. I found Austin, the described Madison of the Southwest, the perfect place in the Lone Star state for me to reside. The rolling landscape of the Hill Country, the chain of lakes made from the chain of dams along the Colorado river, thank you LBJ, plenty of good music and Tex-Mex. It seems I always juggled an interest in writing while lacking the confidence in what I had to say as well as never the nerve nor willingness to dedicate the time to pursue. Additionally, there was the bottom line one keeps an eye on through the traditional productive, pay the bills years when raising three children and trying to be a good husband. Once the family was raised I elevated my give-a-hot-damn attitude about my career to an unprecedented level. Then I started to put pen to paper. Importantly life had, by that time, given me reason to write. Happiness, disappointment, faith, lost-faith, success, failure, death and divorce can help fill a page… What do I hope you, the reader, get from my poems and prose? Well, for sure, you will receive a deeply appreciative ‘thank you' from me. Also, maybe you will give a silent nod of recognition having read a certain line. A smile at my attempted humor (very difficult, a comic be) . Perhaps a tear, which I would treasure, if I raise in you a sympathy or melancholy memory. I will be happy if you merely believe it was time well spent, reading what you did. My dream is to touch folks from all walks of life, stages of being. Admittedly, I am on in age but coherent (read naïve) enough to attempt to intrigue those younger with themes that affected me in my youth. I am enough experienced in relationships to accept and embrace the fact I really am, like many, wonderfully befuddled by love; by writing it down I may find clarity. Above all, I am a Father and treasure my children. I live with a woman who I love. I have a select close friend I value. I believe simply being nice is the one of the greatest attributes a person can achieve and hardest to maintain. I heard a writer once offer the sage advice, if you are a writer, write. I do. Thus, I am, belatedly, a writer.)

The Best Poem Of Greg Weber

Ants On The Porch

same old fly is on the screen door
pacing back and forth/up and down to and fro
biding time… waiting to get in
pancakes on the griddle
ham fryin' in the pan… each aroma enticing him
syrup heatin' on the cook stove
warm his little fly senses
there are ants on the front porch marching
in a line
a regimented movement
bangin' to the drum beat
of the kids running down the steps from the bedroom
pounding little feet
of one mind as they race to the kitchen…
made lively by the laughter kept inside through the night
a unity of love kept alive by Mother
cooking cleaning
catching the runny nose
digging a tissue from her purse
this is the center of our family universe;
see through the open side window
under the shade tree the robust robins bounce at play/
beautiful blue birds alight on the window sill
craving crumbs
silently they stay/
the kitchen holds our core
it binds the family love
it is what we do… starting everyday

By Greg Weber

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