Poems by Rick W. Cotton

My dear wife studies Calculus.
She says it's fun; I think she's nuts.
She's solving x and y and z.
I struggle with just 1, 2, 3.
She's got these weird and strange equations,
Mathematical madness machinations,
Exponents and integers.
Not many brains are wired like hers.
She can do it, get solutions.
For me, page one is mass confusion.
Words are my thing, heaven knows,
And I can fling some witty prose.
I rhyme without the slightest reason.
Poems penned for every season,
But give me numbers? Oh, I'm lost!
My brain becomes a salad tossed!
So I'll just stick to poetry
And not advance past 1, 2, 3.
While Sweetie does her sums and graphs
And antiderivatives...just for laughs.

A stranger came here late last night
Silent puffs of falling white
Frigid, falling, drifting down
Unusual this far down in a southern town

Blanket soft and purest clean
Rarely do we have this scene
Every roof and every tree
Covered in such purity

It was only months ago
The hurricane did fury blow
Floods did havoc sadly bring
And wrecked most nearly everything

But now the sky descends in peace
Gray-damp clouds and snow like fleece
Whisper wind of gentle sound
Floating, falling to the ground

And like a bandage covers deep
The scars our hearts will always keep
For Christmas comes and now we see
Nature says she is so sorry

She drops her flakes as if to show
Her love with gifts of gentle snow
Here just before this Christmastide
The scars of Harvey...she will hide

I wouldn't live in a haunted house;
It's something I just wouldn't do.
Not in creepy haunted house.
Not with me or even with you.

There's ghosties that hide in the shadows,
And spiders spin webs down the walls.
Things going bumpety all night long,
And footsteps go stomping down halls.

Voices that whisper when nobody's there
And shadows abound in the nighttime.
And just when you think all the ghouls have moved out,
They return for some serious fright-time.

They'll give you a poke on the back of your neck,
Or someone unseen tugs your hair.
You just know there's someone standing behind
If you dare to look...nobody's there.

I wouldn't live in a haunted house,
But on the last of October,
I might drop in for a quick little stay
And bring all my candy right over.

When the sun goes down at the edge of town
And the moon rises glorious yellow,
There's something in Halloween's glowing time
That makes all the ghosties quite mellow.

Then little ones come, dressed in costumes galore.
A haunted house might be just dandy
For you and I, Love, to spend our Halloween
On our haunted porch, handing out candy!

Jack comes every year to visit me,
And his grin just makes me smile.
Nearly toothless, he doesn't care.
He happily laughs all the while.

Eyes glowing in mirth and merriment,
He makes this time of year happy,
Though he's not much in conversation,
And he has no repartee snappy.

Jack just stays for a few weeks
Every year when the leaves turn yellow.
He's as welcome as he could possibly be.
He's quite the fun old fellow.

Now the sun goes down and the moon comes up,
And the costumed monsters come calling.
Light a candle to get Jack going!
Fast! The eventide's falling!

All Halloween night he sits with me,
Grinning to greet the neighbors
'Til his candle's gone and he goes to sleep.
These are hours that I truly savor.

So long old Jack, tomorrow's November!
We'll see you again next year!
When you come to visit from the pumpkin patch,
We will all be waiting right here!

I heard a soft sound, like wind through the trees,
But there was no wind, for the air was still,
And the forest stood waiting, silent and strong,
Trees standing guard as they always will.

The voice kept calling me, calling my name
As I walked in peace through the still, cool green,
Wandering, wandering, into the deep
Where the silent deer walk, and the path is unseen.

Birds all above, singing their songs,
The rustle of leaves underneath every step,
And the sweet smell of pine, sweet perfume to me,
In the forest so deep, so purely kept.

"Who are you?" I asked, "Why call me?" I said,
But the voice said only, "Come closer, my child."
"I would speak with you, come," was the only reply,
Yet the peace grew stronger, there deep in the wild.

And at last, I stopped, for the voice then said,
"I am here, cease wandering," and I lifted my eyes
To a small, quiet clearing, where a fallen tree lay.
"Sit down," the voice said, in voice ancient and wise.

Many things we spoke of, the voice and I.
All the things my heart found too heavy for words
The voice and I spoke for hours, it seemed,
But the only sound made was the song of the birds.

"I understand, child. Let me take that from you.
You've carried it now for many a year."
And I felt the love like a blanket wrapped 'round,
And I felt myself, like a child, held dear.

"But, I am to blame, I have done all these things!"
"I know," said the voice, "but that means nothing now."
Then the love and the peace grew yet warmer still,
For the very life of me, I could never say how.

"Go in peace," said the voice, "you have miles to go."
As I smiled and turned to walk the green sod,
"I love you, my child." "I love you, too," I said.
The forest...my church...the voice...my God

You eat too much salt, the doctor said,
And your blood pressure's way over here in the red
You're way too fat, gotta cut back the food
Can't eat a thing that's tasty or good
And exercise - you need way much more
To feel really good, you gotta get sore
How do you sleep? Like a log, says I,
The moment the news comes on at five
I meant in the bed, she says with a frown
The wife says my snoring could wake the whole town
What about fatigue? Are you always worn out?
I'm 59, doc, I know what tired's all about
Been tired for awhile, since I don't know when
Since my kids grew up, since 2010,
Since I got that recliner that just fits my rear,
And that big screen I see even though it's not near
She writes and she thinks, and then writes some more
And writes a prescription for my local drug store
Hmmm, she says, with a thoughtful grin
Guess you're in good shape....for the shape you're in.

In the summer of '32
A little boy, 6 years old,
Separated from his Mama
In a five and ten-cent store,
And he cries as he tries to find her.
At last, he runs to her arms.
As she holds him close, he says, "Mama, take me home."

Take me home, take me home.
I'm so tired, take me home
To the place where I am loved, where I'll never be alone.
Take me home, take me home.
I'm so tired, take me home,
I'm leaning on your arms to take me home.

In the winter of '44,
In the war-torn town of Bastogne,
Shivering in a foxhole,
The young man waits all alone.
All his buddies have fallen around him,
Their blood spilled red on the snow.
As the bullets fly, he prays, "Lord, get me home."

Take me home, take me home.
I'm so tired, take me home
To the child I've never seen. Lord, I want to watch her grow.
Take me home, take me home.
I'm so tired, take me home,
I'm leaning on Your arms to take me home.

Well, the years go by, and God does not fail.
The young man and his family grow
'Til the day he's a grandpa, telling his grandson
'Bout his wartime days in the snow.
"Grandpa, weren't you afraid they would get you?
When you wanted to hide, where'd you go?"
Grandpa smiles and says,
"Boy, to the best friend I'll ever know."

In the Springtime of '05,
A man full of years, grown old,
His body is swiftly failing,
But his family is safely grown,
And his wife has gone on before him.
He knows that his time has come,
He smiles and says, "Lord, when You're ready....take me home."

Take me home, take me home.
I'm so tired, take me home
To the place where I am loved, where my loved ones all will go.
Take me home, take me home.
Lord, I'm tired, take me home.
I'm leaning on Your arms to take me home.
I'm leaning on Your arms to take me....home.