Murphy and Brandy-the love dogs
Murphy is his name,
of a Corgi mix
is he.
2004 we brought
brandy home,
she is a Border collie mix
Murphy fell in love,
it was love,
at first sight
Brandy acts like,
a brand new puppy,
she passed this on to Murphy
Murphy is ten,
had him since 1997,
brandy is six,
both act much younger.
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poem by Jim Foulk
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I Asked the Voice
I asked the voice,
to lead me down,
the valley of despair,
rivers flowing with no care,
peaceful, sweetness all around,
blue birds singing their song,
butterflies so many,
I asked the voice,
of my troubles
my journey is done?
Oh no, many more to come.
Rivers flowing with much woe,
stand firm, take the flow,
hardships, up and down,
floating thru life,
having much strife,
in the end, its how,
you handle it all,
you surely will stand tall,
mountains will be moved,
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Nineteen-Fifty-Two
I wish things were,
the same now, as then,
i wish I was there, instead of here.
In nineteen-fifty-two,
things were simple, and so care-free,
you alway, had something to do
You could see a movie,
or buy, a comic or pop for the price of a dime
everone's favorite saying, was groovie.
Drugs were no problem, at all,
crime also, was very down
young Willie May, was even playing ball.
Children had respect, even for their parents
three-D was really in,
and everyone had good merit's
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Buried Between two Trees
Back home again
in the yard
I used to play in
So many memories here
of days long ago
for memories, I hold dear
Saw the grave of old shep
the dog I loved so
in this yard, he followed me every step
He's buried between two trees you see
buried him in my brand new quilt
and my mother was really mad at me
In this yard, I would bathe him
many years before
his old eyes grew dim
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Always someone worse
There are times we feel,
like giving up,
empty, drawn out,
life not worth living,
abused, beaten, raped,
nelected, pushed away,
not loved, not wanted,
you can't run away from your problems,
because, where ever you go,
you have to take you with you,
theres a new tomorrow,
things brighter,
happy times will come,
Always someone worse
I was sad cause i had not shoes,
until i saw someone with no feet.
Always someone worse
I was unhappy because i had,
verry little to eat, until
someone i saw with no food to eat,
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Light Blub and the Candle
Candle: 'You think your so bright.'
Light Blub: 'I'm supposed to be that way.'
But at least I don't go out, everytime a breeze blows in.'
Candle: 'Hey I have been here longer than you.'
Light Blub: 'Edison invented me, who invented you? '
Candle: 'Don't really know for sure, but I have been around longer.'
Light Blub: 'You already said that.'
Candle: ' I get so mad, everytime someone says, they have an idea
they compare it to a light blub.'
Light Blub: 'Who else.'
Candle: ' When the power goes out, were the first things people reach
for.'
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
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poem by Jim Foulk
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My Grandma
The little old lady isn't around anymore
to push me, to encourage, as she did before
she stood only four foot eleven
so sweet, so kind just like heaven
Up at the crack of dawn
always knitting with yarn
she died at eighty-six
my problems she always could fix
With a twinkle in her eye
and being very sly,
she told me I could make it
because of fame I would get
She couldn't read or write
but she was very bright
at cards she loved to play
she knew how to count, without delay
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poem by Jim Foulk
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Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
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poem by Jim Foulk
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
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poem by Jim Foulk
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