Tuesday, December 23, 2014

INNOCENCE (KISSES LIKE THE WIND)

KISSES LIKE THE WIND

Unlike the wind, a fleeing ghost,
That first kiss hangs upon its host
A tingle that should ere remain
In sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain.

Lay soft thy lips on virgin cheek
That burns of blush the innocents seek.
And lo, upon emotions’ crest,
Lips draw away and to the best,
For in that virgin kiss hides well
The secrets of some lovers’ spell
That would be known, but not to thee
Of lovers’ immaturity.

And yet forever and a day
Unlike the wind's temporal sway,
The memories of first kisses stay,
But like the wind, we’re blown away.

                             --Monty Wheeler

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

TO THE EDITORS

To every “ed” who’s stretched in mind
Who’s had to fly outside the box,
Who’s bit a tongue in speaking kind
Of words unorthodox

‘Tis torture in that stretch;
Machines ne'er did so much.
Those dread devices with the cranks
Can only stretch by touch

‘Tis mind o'er matter, thoughts to scatter
On raging desert wind.
O, ye, Eds, come chase our storms
Until our stories end!

We'd write to spite and write to please
And write to make ye think,
And giggle, we, as we’d sit ye
Nigh insantity's brink.

‘Tis bitter sweet that stretch ye'd meet
On verbose prose we’d write,
And on we’d type into the night
to lend ye eds a fright.

But dearest Eds, to all of you,
We’d fret not of your stretch;
The tenebrous mind can take the pain
That eds so often catch.

                --Monty Wheeler

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

MINE HUMBLE PEN

I’d, humble, walk the narrow path
With Jesus, Savior, Lord,
And by His gift, I’ll praise Him with
The pen as my bronze sword.

I cannot sing or carry tunes;
No music can I play,
But God has blessed me with a gift,
A talent, so “they” say.

(And onward, Christian Soldier, write
As going off to war,
For God’s salvation set thee free
To walk His Golden Shore!)

I’d wield a humble poet’s pen,
Not out of duty’s call,
But out of Love and Faith in God;
He’s great, and I am small.

But I believe in altar’s prayer,
And promises He makes;
Perchance He’s chosen me to share
In spite of my mistakes.

Thus, if my pen and talent’s in
Accordance with His will,
I’ve want to share my God with all
In honing gift and skill.

            --Monty Wheeler