A Poet Beseeching Death

When death came a calling,
I said, "There's no one there."
When it pressed for an answer,
I said, "It isn't fair."
"Not fair when I have so much
Poetry to give."
"If I'm gone my lost lines will
Have no chance to live."
For time being death has taken a break.
I'm not certain if it's tired
Or paused for my poetic sake.
One thing I do know, and that's for sure.
Again death will come a calling,
And then I may not demur.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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I'm Going To Change

How many times have I said before
That I'm going to change my ways?
Then in as soon as ten minutes more,
I'm in sad theatrics of previous days.

When I promise I'm going to change,
My strong intentions have priorities.
As unforeseen events rearrange my life,
They become misguided minorities.

The key to change I've finally found.
It's about myself and how proud I feel,
Committed to be a better person all around
So that changes will be consistently real.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Smile and Be Happy

This life is so very short
So why harbor those frowns.
Your face will just contort,
Yet you'll still have those downs.

As good and bad visit you,
Just keep this in mind.
Happiness is what you view
Plus what you leave behind.

If seeing bad is your fate,
Bitterness drives you mad.
It's yourself you really hate
Since you discovered sad.

But if good is your choice,
The world becomes your place.
Though good and bad have a voice,
Smiles will shape your face.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Strong May Be Weak

When sorrow stabs a mind,
There’s so much it can find.

The strong may be the weak,
Hiding behind a façade they seek
To appear to be powerful
By causing others to be sorrowful.

Their weapons of hate and attack
Will only ricochet back
Further wounding their weakened mind
While forcing others farther behind.

Their weakness will start to fade
The moment in sorrow they’re not afraid
To view tenderness as something strong
And being a bully as always wrong.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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How Little I Know

When I was young, I knew it all.
The world was simple as I recall.
Things were right or wrong and black or white.
Everything was within my sight.

As I grew older the world changed,
Or maybe my thinking rearranged.
I became less apt to draw quick conclusions,
As I became aware of many confusions.

I learned to listen and think before I spoke.
Then when even older my mind awoke.
It awoke and I understood to my surprise,
Knowing how little I know can be wise.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Thoughts

Learn to live together since we’re much more the same.
Only bad will happen when we try to look for blame.
As mother nurses child, we must nurse each mind.
Then ignorance, hate and jealousy are left far behind.

There’s good in each of us whether slug, bug or whatever.
All livings things must love, not hate, in this sliver of forever.
Be full of cheer; be glad you’re here; destroy signs of sorrow.
Smile today; have fun and play for who knows of the morrow.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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June Twenty Eighth

Sunrays are brighter; clouds much whiter.
Nature's creatures celebrate.
Today I vowed to delight her,
As her lucky, honored, eternal mate.

On the calendar it's the only date I see
That has given life more meaning than ever.
Even during moments when we don't agree,
It's a union that nothing can sever.

June 28th stands for our happiness and love
During each and every day of the year.
As we honor each other, someone above
Will ensure we have nothing to fear.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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My Brown Eyed Beauty

My Brown Eyed Beauty what’s there to say?

You’re “The Best”, “The Most” in every way!

There are no words in any nomenclature

That can describe how you have beaten nature.

Every year you are more gorgeous than before.

Every year I’m so thankful and love you more.

Forever is not a long enough time span;

I need more time to be your grateful man.

Here’s to another grand year you awesome beauty!

I still can’t believe God has given you to me!

poem by Gregory Huyette
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A Poem Is Life

A poem is life, a being in verse,
A body traveling a minstrel's way,
Devouring all things for better or worse
With a rhythmic pulse that knows not the day.
As its chorus of words trembles with breath,
This organ of life travels on.
Like the undying conscience that gnawed at Macbeth
Long after the knife had been drawn.
An immortal being, a god of the page
This inspiration in verse shall remain
Living on and on with men and their age
As long as there's life to sustain.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Man And The Chicken

Life is a chicken coop and we are the birds.
We do a lot of good, but the droppings are our words.
If properly managed, they should cause no stress,
But they often cause infection which is a real mess.
Once dropped, they can’t be undropped whether good or bad.
Good ones fertilize relationships; the others leave people sad.

Indeed, we’re often behind the chicken
When it comes to think before you speak.
Some may lay an egg or two,
But each knows how to shut its beak.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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