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Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
On the last day of school
Rings final bell
Hop on our bicycles
Pedal like Hell
Down to the ball field
Perhaps the town square
It didn’t matter
Our friends would be there.

All joking and laughing
Some cussing out loud
No teacher to hear us
Impressing our crowd
Pitching some pennies
Buying ice cream and pop
Only curfews and darkness
Could make this all stop.

See’ya tomorrow!
Goin’ down to the pool?
Yeah ANYthing’s better
Than goin’ to school
I have to work
Man that’s a ******
Nothing was better
Than the first day of summer!
PwL 3/24/15
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
I stand in front of the mirror; It’s confusing to see,
A thousand faces looking back at me.
A gray haired old man,
A boy of eighteen,
One guy is nice,
The other selfish and mean.
One knows where he’s at.
Another is lost,
He looks for direction
No matter the cost.

One has much confidence.  One insecure.
One gives up easily, and one can endure
The trials and hardships
Inherent to life.
One is dull, plain, and boring
Another sharp as a knife.
One is happy and joyful,
One can’t stop the tears,
That fall freely and frequently,
As he ages in years.

One is satisfied with what he’s accomplished to date.
Another looks at the world with envy and hate,
And wonders why others
Are passing him by,
Should he laugh at himself?
Or silently cry?
One believes in a power,
Much greater than self,
Another, a hypocrite,
Puts his faith on a shelf.

One knows lots of people; One a loner by choice.
One never speaks out.  One revels in his voice,
Tells his story to all,
Who will listen (pretend?)
While they wait and they hope
That the story will end.
One still has hope,
Another hope-less;
One tracks dirt through the house.
Another cleans up the mess.

One looks at the world, poised to attack,
Another seems not to care; he is calm and laid back,
One wants to know more,
One has seen way too much.
One wants to hold tighter,
One recoils from the touch.
There are too many faces,
None of them clear,
So I turn out the light,
I walk away from the mirror.
The Grumpy Old Man poem posted by Joe Malgeri reminded me a little bit of 'Mirror' that I wrote years ago.  Dug it out of the archive.  :-)
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
Volcanic Poet
Molten words, ash chokes the air
Hardens by the Sea
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
‘Twas the start of March Madness,
And all through the land,
People sat by the TV
With pencils in hand.

The committee had chosen the teams with great care
And everyone hoped their Alma Mater was there.
The teams were selected and placed into regions
With top seeds rewarded for having good seasons.

Badger fans from Wisconsin were
All dressed in Red
With Final Four visions
Dancing  ‘round in their heads.

Kentucky fans claimed
(As they most always do)
The Championship would go
To their Wildcats in blue.

The Blue Devils from Durham
Were also quite hot
And the Duke fans were certain
They would win the top spot.

‘Nova fans were excited; their hopes are alive!
Remember the upset?  1985
An 8-seed back then, this year they're a One!
Villanova Wildcat fans are sure to have fun! xxxxxxx already done.

Now the ‘play-ins’ are over.
But I’m not sure who won
Doesn't matter, the winner
Will be trounced by a One.

I, with cold beer and my bracket,
Settle down in a chair
I’ve picked all the games
Now I’ll see how they fare.

Now Badgers, Now Boilers,
Now Hawkeyes and Bucks,
On Hoosiers, On Hoyas,
On Shockers, and Ducks
Go Flyers, Go Sooners, Come On Musketeers!
Go Cardinals, Go Cowboys….   Gonna need some more beers.

Then all of a sudden arose such a clatter
On the tube Sir Charles was starting to chatter.
“I’m the Round Mound of Rebound, - there’s no one like me!”
“Watch all my commercials, NCAA on TV!”

From Thursday through Sunday
On to Sweet Sixteen,
Elite Eight, Final Four and
All the games in between.
The nation is watching from East Coast to West
Which of the 60+ teams will be best.
With OTs and upsets and a blowout or two,
I am glued to the TV and
I’ll bet so are you.

I closed my eyes for a second, and then fell asleep

But was quickly awakened by my doorbell's loud beep,

And what, to my wondering eyes should appear?

But Sir Charles himself;
 And he asks for a beer!

"I'm not a role model, I just like to dunk.

I took a look at your bracket, and
Most all your picks stunk!"
I turned to ask him to fix it,
But he'd disappeared.
Yes, Sir Charles was gone,

And so was my beer!

Now my bracket is busted,
I’m all out of beer
Merry Madness to all,
I will see you next year!

"A Visit from St. Nicholas", also known as "The Night Before Christmas" and " ' Twas the Night Before Christmas" from its first line, is a poem first published anonymously in 1823, and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who acknowledged authorship in 1837.   from Wikipedia.

Unfortunately, Mr. Moore never had the chance to experience March Madness.  :-)
Just for the record, my daughter graduated from University of Wisconsin, need I say more?
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
Waking skies
At Sunrise,
Ev'ry sunset too,
Seems to be
Bringing me
Memories of you.


Here and there,
Ev'rywhere,
Scenes that we once knew,
And they all
Just recall
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories,
All those memories of you.

Andy Razaf, circa 1930
"Memories of You" is a popular song with lyrics written by Andy Razaf and music composed by Eubie Blake and published in 1930.

My Mom and Dad chose to have there lyrics inscribed on a bench that is in the cemetary where they will be together forever.
Phil Lindsey Mar 2015
Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015
Thank you to all who read what I post!!!!   ;-)
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