I run into that old brick wall again
You never want to let my loving in
I know that you love me, the way that I love you
But what’s a lovin’ heart supposed to do

I’m living here, with my loving heart
You close the door, before I even start
I wish that I could show you, how it feels when we’re apart
I’m living here, with my loving heart

They say that time, can heal a broken heart
You’ll fade away, and I’ll get a new start
And someday you won’t own me, the way you do today
My loving heart might live another way

I tell myself, you can make it one more day
But my loving heart, don’t hear a single word I say

I’m living here, with my loving heart
You close the door, before I even start
I wish that I could show you, how it feels when we’re apart
I’m living here, with my loving heart

We got him just a few weeks old
With energy to burn
But he was very brave and bold
For lessons he would learn

Named him Louie from the start
And every day was new
He ran and each day played his part
His love was deep and true.

We played and learned to chase the birds
As much as he would try
He never understood my words
That dogs can never fly

He was quick and he was smart
He understood commands
He had such a loving heart
Your love he would demand

Then one day out of the blue
Louie was not well
He was tired and troubled too
Anyone could tell

With my partner Louie went
Two hundred miles away
And I was checking, text were sent
On Louie every day.

I had to practice with the band
So early I had been
I sat there on the bench at hand
And wondered about him

And as I sat I saw a streak
A feather in the air
It flew and seemed to hunt and seek
Searching for me there

It swirled around and down the wall
The corner it did turn
And then like it had heard my call
It echoed my concern

The wisp was Louie I was sure
Sent to give me hope
It was a message to endure
Helping me to cope

It came at me so hard and fast
And flew beneath my seat
I hoped that it would stay at last
And make my day complete

The feather now I could not see
I smiled so deep inside
Louie had come back to me
Bliss I could not hide

But as I felt some comfort there
I saw the feather leave
It waved goodbye without a care
And I began to grieve

The next day when I got the call
The sun breaking the dawn
I knew before the words could fall  
That Louie now was gone

And now I know the wisp to be
The feather that would fly
Was Louie coming back to me
To say his last goodbye

A foolish poem I guess you think
It’s silly til the end
If so, you’ve not felt your heart sink
On losing man’s best friend

I reach out
For the icy, dulling numbness
Of whipping winter winds
For the frozen laughter
Of ice packed play by snow-capped kids

I reach out
For the green, fresh spring grass
And the blooming of path side flowers
For the chirps of birds
In baby budding trees

I reach out
For the penetrating summer sun
And its fiery furnace of light
For the lazy dogs and the cool breeze
In summer shades

I reach out
For the autumn colors
Of lovely leaves ending their lives
For the hum of gentle animals
Working toward the winter

I reach out
For all of life and what it brings
For its substance, its character
Its emotions, its feelings.

And reaching for them
For the known and unknown
Works of God and all his beauty
I step lightly on this earth
As one man bound to duty

There was a girl from Tibet
With plans for the man she met
She loved him she said
And took him to bed
And now she drives his Corvette

Raining remedy

Welcomed with watered wisdom

Elixir of earth

I never wept when winter called
Nor turned the icy blast away

Alone, alone, so all alone
Standing still for winter’s day

The summer strong melts empty, long
Against the fall we all must take

But autumns store and plan within
Cannot the dead-cold winter make

He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.

Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.

      We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.

Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy

So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.