Howard Simon
Howard Simon a young friend of mine
Walked the sands of of the Virgin Islands in search of prose
He arrived at acove in a horseshoe shaped beach
His hand was full of seashells
I said nice to meet you my friend and they dropped to the sand like dollars lost from his hand
Why? because we never know when someone we know may be encountered
And the treasurers at hand are just but a meer encounter of life as we live.
So howard come visit me in Jersey combing the beach and I'll dropp the syringes when thier out of reach...shea
poem by John Shea
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Tears For Fears
Here we go again
where do the teardrops end
Who gave me the right
to live in the eagles light
My bird is crying for the love of his country
the teardrops do fall in my face
He circles around me
because we share the same space
Never fear the grim reaper here
the fear does give me a chill
Fly to the moon my friend
My love for you will never end.
Just a lover of crying eagles
living in their life so regal
The teardrops they say
Fly like a bird
fly away
Fly like my brood
Love me as you should
Teardrops from eagles
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poem by John Shea
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Duke
Once we had each other
he was smart and sleek
like no other dog I shared my life with
His speech was a Border Collies gift
Bred to herd sheep
But ended up on an island
herding young ladies instead
He was loved frolicking on Atlantic Beach sand
As his fifteen years of service came to an end
So sad as I cried oh such grief
but just beyond a moonlit reef
I spied a lovely mermaid
With teardrops in her aqua eyes
grieving for Dukey on the day he died.
The night was dark full of shooting stars
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poem by John Shea
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Here we go again.
I flew last night and arrived
My thirst was quenched and my brain was fried
Loney thoughts crossed my path
I addressed it with thoughts of wrath
Then peaceful feelings quell the ire
I remember the love and the pure desire
My only thought is the morning
coming at me with it's warning
I addressed it with thoughts of work
Another four letter word
For the Elite or the Nerd
So whoever you are in this wonderful life
Forgive all the negative
Let your brain keep you living
Your life always giving
To the lonely and shy
The lowly and high.
poem by John Shea
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Homeless
A cardboard box is my home
In the city where I was born
Wine beer and rats are my best friends
My meals come from trash
Sometimes it's hash
Or a soft pretzel hard as an oak
I beg borrow steal
to get a good meal
Like hot dogs and burgers and such
I smell like hell
And would bathe in a well
But there are none
Spring showers are nice
They rinse off the lice
That reside on my half balded head
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poem by John Shea
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Souls
Remember when you felt the thrill
Of a kiss in the dark.
A walk through the valley to the park,
Then a race up mockingbird hill.
Young then I tendered these feelings,
Looking for support and healing.
Then a race for center stage.
Now I see as the years fly by me
Souls that warm my life,
Like my son grandchildren and wife.
They are in the oceans we swim,
The meadows we wander.
I can see them on a whim,
Etched in my mind,
Easy to find.
The souls of many cloud my vision,
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poem by John Shea
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Arachnid
A little spider took up a corner in my room
I looked him over with awe then with gloom
Little friend, how will you survive without food?
Without a mate or something to sate your hunger
A terrible tangled web he did weave
I gave him a fly from my kitchen window
It was destined to die for the winter
He was not ready for a meal from a sinner like me
We eye balled each other for weeks
He found little critters to eat
With my power mag I found it sad
To see he survived on an ort
The following spring he threw me a curve
He was a she and with egg sack gave birth
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poem by John Shea
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Fall Foilage.
Tis a blustery day I must say
Winter is near, I must say, my dear.
Mother nature holds some fear
On a cold winters day,
The leaves blind her sight.
Then Winter enters a tear into many a being
The elder, the young
The special.
The yet unsung.
Then on a lonely street
I found the leaves my friend
Shivering and shaking with cold,
I burrowed into them,
Ignoring the damp and the dust
Like a recipe
Of just friendly leaves.
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poem by John Shea
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Chimes
i am living here on the eaves
not on the eve of destruction
should I sing or should I swing
Or chirp out a ding o ling
I hung here for years and never complained
Of the snow or the rain
where is my friend the wind?
Lover of the music at a whim
birds nested close to me
for the tune that I sung
sweet lullabies for the children
the children to sing in our skys
the future that brightens our eyes.
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My Buddy
Fire in his eye as I come or go.
Loving when he feels like it
Sharp teeth let me know
Know my place
When I am in his space.
Small but mighty
A liquid bandage will suffice
Other than that he's mighty nice
His eyes all bugged out
With a smile on his face
His home is his castle
Beware the human race
If you don't belong
You will watch your step
My buddy has lots of pep
At around fourteen pounds of steel hard muscle
An adversary with lots of hustle
He does love others
And gently the love does tender
I don't fit in that slot
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