Friday, April 29, 2011

POEMS IN H


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Poems in H

by
Douglas L. Simmons

Copyright © 2005 by Douglas L. Simmons

* * *

* * *

      Hands Clappin'

      Hands Clappin'--
      Hands Clappin'--
      for you.
      And you're singing about
      a love, and you shout.
      But you're feeling left out.

      Hands Clappin'--
      The Back Slappin'--
      They tell ya you're great,
      and tell ya it's fate,
      tell ya they're waiting
      'till the time is right.
      Waiting for the big night.

      Hands Clappin'--
      Hands Clappin'--
      And the money comes rolling in!
      And the women, oh the women!
      They're gonna love ya,
      be thinkin' of ya.
      Hear you singing
      when they're sleeping and dreaming
      of you.

      Hands Clappin'--
      Hands Clappin'--
      Stand back an'
      listen to the words,
      well, you never heard them before.
      Wonder if you can remember
      and sing them anymore?

      Hands Clappin'--
      Hands Clappin'--

      Doug L.
      March 21, 1974
      Mainz, Germany

* * *

      Happy Childhood, Children

      Happy childhood little children.
      Dream your dreams now, while you can.
      Feel the breezes blowing lazily
      on an endless children's land.

      Time awaits you little children,
      beacons on with gentle hands.
      Showing visions of the future
      reaching ever on ahead.

      Happy childhood little children.
      Here's a pillow for your head.
      Soon you will be grey and aged.
      After that, You'll just be dead.

      Doug L.
      Hammond, IN.
      1970

* * *

      Holding Bridges

      He stays out drowning
      every sorrow in sight.
      He has to do it
      just to last through each night.

      He's got a woman
      waiting for him at home.
      She's always waiting
      she's always alone.

      He's holding bridges
      that he's longing to burn.
      It's all around him
      every which way he turns.

      In crowds of people
      desperation inside.
      He wants to run
      because there's nowhere to hide.

      She's always waiting
      at home late at night.
      She knows he's out there
      in those big city lights.

      He stays gone
      until the break of day light.
      She lets him hurt her
      She knows it's not right.

      She's holding bridges
      she's longing to burn.
      It's all around her
      every which she turns.

      Another lonely lady
      desperation inside.
      She wants to run
      because there's nowhere to hide.

      Doug L.
      Hammond, Indiana
      1983

* * *

      Hopes

      In hopes of a flower
      I've planted these seeds.
      In hopes of a garden
      I've pulled out the weeds.

      In hopes of tomorrow
      I give you today.
      All yesterdays sorrows
      I've given away.

      In hopes you might love me
      I love you still more,
      and hope you will enter
      my hearts open door.

      For love of your beauty
      seen with these tired eyes,
      I've given me only.
      I wear no disguise.

      Lies are not in me
      when speaking my love.
      These feelings you bring me
      are more than enough.

      In hopes of a vision
      I see me through you.
      A lover believing
      you'll see what I do.

      Doug L.
      August 31, 1993
      Hammond, Indiana

* * *

      House

      Freedom is the right to give
      love, not to take it away.
      Freedom gives the might to live
      above madness more than for just a single day.

      Boy don't fake and hurt a little young girl.
      Girl don't turn to break a man in two.
      You are both living in a very young world.
      but the old land is growing, growing in you.

      I am holding tears, tears in my hand,
      I caught them as they fell for the ground.
      I don't know who it is that they belong to,
      but lately I have found them all around.

      I have seen a father take a mans daughter,
      take her, take her on down.
      I have seen a mother turning for a lover
      turning to another mothers son.

      I have seen children
      crying in the night,
      reaching, finding
      only pain in their hands.

      And I am not speaking of some other nation.
      I have not seen this in some depraved foreign land.
      I have seen it happen in the house of freedom.
      I have seen it and I do not understand.

      Doug L.
      July 4, 1974
      Hammond, Indiana

* * *

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