Biography of Walter Ferguson
Poetry is more of a hobby to me. Writing can be the best therapy to heal the soul and bring true emotion to the surface. True emotion is not something that should be revised. Every poem that I have done is the first draft and original thought. Some are better than others but none of them have been worked over and revised as this would take away from the intended impact.
Walter Ferguson Poems
The Other Me
I have always been a single man, Of more than one voice, I don’t even realize he’s there, Until I have to make a choice,
Prayer To The Porcelain God
Short footed god of porcelain and white, I ask your help to get me through the night, I come to you again in agony and despair, With whiskey on my breath,
A Lifetime Lost
Before the grave of knowledge I stand and pray, Common sense and fore-site have cursed me this day, Deliver me from myself, show me the way, Bring back the life I had before things went astray.
Goodnight Sweet Spring
Nature’s springtime end has come, The hold on life has gone, Blankets of every color and shade, Covering the land as springtime fades.
A warm voice is all I know, As it dances from side to side, For I cannot see the face, That makes me smile with pride.
Some people in life suffer from an affliction, Imaginary highbrows with an oratorical addiction, These people seem healthy at first, the sickness under control, But then the silence is broken as they begin to speak,
I board my little metal box early in the dawn, Adjust my seat, fix my mirror, turn the stereo on, I love the drive, I live for the day, And I am generally accepting,
I am having a wonderful day, I love to laugh, I love to play, The only thing I need to be happy would be, My bottle, my teddy, and my pacifier you’ll see.
As I think back to what once was I glance at my image and think of the things that time does Old I have become, aged and wise The pace of life and responsibilities I despise
Garden Of Stone
Solitary garden of flower hath grown, Where life has past and memory alone, Now forevermore lies in row of stone, To mark the passing of those we have once known.
A Life Of Excess
High dollar clothes with tons of gold, Putting on a look that’s daring and bold, A rock star’s life, a break I cant get, Why oh why am I not dead yet?
As I think back to what once was
I glance at my image and think of the things that time does
Old I have become, aged and wise
The pace of life and responsibilities I despise
I miss my youth,
I can see what time has done
And I wonder, oh I wonder
If other’s can appreciate what type of man I have become