Southern Comforts

Southern Comforts                                      September 28, 2013

'Tis Autumn at the peaks of the Great Smoky Mount,

And the leaves are the colors of flames.

The Summer hath died, 'tis now only pigskin games;

Ergo, the heat hath been cool'd for the fall!

The Valley Fair and its fried foods,

And the rides take me for a whirl.

Autumn is here to temper our moods,

Let me dance to the fiddler and unfurl!

Southern comforts, we hardly know you,

For you come but one lonely time per year.

Twelve weeks is all upon our countenances in lieu,

Our stream of consciousness doth seem to sear!

Let us break our bread in the fellowship hall!

Let us never waste a moment again!

So long as there are fairs and the flying pigskin ball,

I shall always fancy my toothy grin!

Chili and pumpkin pie will be at the bonfire tonight!

Let the pixies sing a jig and dance!

It may be dark, but I do see His Light,

As my contingent commences to run and prance!

Let us seize the day the Scots-Irish way,

'Tis the only way we know how;

Worry not what others shall have in ill to say,

Around here, there are but one or two cow!

O' Southern comforts! How do you do?

I really must say I miss seeing you, too!

August turns to September but once in a year,

Much to the chagrin of a Volunteer's tear!

Let there never be a day when the rooster crows,

When you fail to awaken with the taste of the mountain dew,

When your love for the lady hath grew and grew,

Fair Dolly, please sing to me on cue!

To My Dear Father on His Birthday

To My Dear Father on His Birthday                                September 26, 2013

Old Age is but a frame of mind 

When the sands descend through the hourglass,

When the pages tear from calendars as do Autumn leaves,

As the orbit continues its sojourn round the sun.

But to my father, September 27 is a special day,

And he loves to laugh and play!

A man old in numbers, but a youth by exuberance,

And he continues to grow as a sage.

Father, here your time comes again!

Shall I bake you a cake once more?

I am but a soul, still young and a dreamer,

And I have not but fantasy to guide me more.

You may die a death upon the last granule of sand,

When you have accumulated too much age,

But never shall you leave my heart nor mind,

My memory of you shall always survive!

So Father, let me celebrate in your honor,

You loyal, faithful servant of mine!

I am just a soul who only owes all

Of my existence by half to you!

Shall we pass a ball in the old front yard,

Or re-acquaint ourselves with our field of dreams?

I miss the days when I was your outfielder,

With you serving as my coach on our diamond.

I have never been perfect, and I must digress

To the next morn the sun doth shine!

For you, my father, never doubted in me

Even when I never saw Enlightenment in myself.

I long to take a road trip with you 

Across the roads of Time and Space,

To a day where we have no worries!

Perhaps someday, our time shall coincide,

And we shall sojourn to our Xanadu!

Laura (Circa 2004, Edited August 29, 2013)

Laura                 Circa 2004 (Edited August 29, 2013)

It's time to build a boat

And sail the Seven Seas.

'Tis nothing here but baggage;

You'll have to jettison or flee.

Laura, my sister, board your boat

And sail the seas.

Just flee from all of your troubles,

And let God light the path!

Sometimes, it's difficult to discern

Where blue skies meet the sea,

But I know, here on land,

Your troubles will make you bleed.

Laura, my sister, board your boat

And sail the seas,

And onto the sunset,

To your soul's wholesome delight.

Laura, my sister, board your boat

And sail the seas.

You can live for God the enchanted life,

So heed His Call and sail unto the stars.

Laura Ligh Leigh (Edited Version, August 29, 2013)

Laura Ligh Leigh (Edited Version)                                      August 29, 2013

O' how the birds do sing of her euphoric aura! 

And o'! How they do sweeten the dream! 

They give me reason to smile all the time,

Cause they make me think of my Laura Ligh Leigh... 

My Laura Ligh Leigh!

O' how the river winds and the fish do swim!

Through God's perpetuation of everyday life.

Gentle river, crisp ripples of sound bring music to my ears

As I sit along the bank,

Throwing bread crumbs as I watch her dance to Nature!

My Laura Ligh Leigh!

Laura Ligh Leigh! My Laura Ligh Leigh!

Sweetest little girl from Tennessee!

O' I have known now for so many years,

Since nearly the day I was knee high to a toadstool!

Never before have I not seen you smile

Something so wide, wider than a mile!

O' my sister, my precious gift from God!

You are my blood! My Laura Ligh Leigh!

Look at the butterflies flutter their wings!

It happens at a constant; it never dies!

It shall never cease till Winter chills the air,

And then Spring shall arise like a Phoenix a-fire!

The flowers bloom as our precious Gaea feeds,

The colors ubiquitous; we must live beneath a rainbow!

And always, there will be sweet Laura Ligh Leigh,

Dancing beneath God in a sea of green!

Laura Ligh Leigh! My Laura Ligh Leigh!

Sweetest little girl, a spirit always free!

Laura Ligh Leigh! My Laura Ligh Leigh!

The belle of the ball, her life always a dance!

Her zest for life always delivers a smile,

And never shall she acquiesce to the whims of the cold.

Let freedom ring, my sweet Laura Ligh Leigh,

For you hold the key to my happiness and glee!

Fare Thee Well to a World I Once Loved

 Fare Thee Well to a World I Once Loved                                 September 25, 2013

O' Mother, please don't cry at my expense

Prior to my attempt at this tragic recompense!

And Mother, O! How I am loathe to bear

This albatross o'er my head, my painful penance!

I never meant to hurt nor fail you as I have,

For to please you is to bequeath love,

For to not means I failed at life,

The olive branch never reached me from Heaven;
Ergo, my perpetuating strife.

I fear it is too late, my dear, sweet Mother,

For I have wrought upon you such great pain.

To see you cry makes me want to die,

And I know I want to set you free of me.

To die would mean to part with difficulty,

And to yearn for Truth and personal growth.

Never shall I be an achiever of any high degree,

Nor will I ever be able to take flight.

So fare thee well to a world I once loved!

God knows I never knew how!

Another failure to launch when once I was grown,

And I have lost my wiles to a devilish masquerade.
Let me be, O' Satanic magistrate! Just let me be!

Precious words mean so little in the way

Of comforting your soul on this night,
No lull-a-bye shall soothe you at the stroke of morn,
And again, I denied myself personal growth.

Torture is the word I shall bestow upon all

Who associate with me for good or no!

Never again shall I fail you, my dear, sweet Mother,

For I shall set you free of me, 

Bereft of my commiserate soul!

I died today a great death in my heart
Upon watching you cry on my behalf,
And I am to blame, O' Lord, how I am to blame!
How I wish I, too, could just cry!

Let me see the light for once of a fine day!

I sought to please the best that I could,

And yet again, all I did was join the dodo;

I never knew what it meant to be a gent,

And I now am already a young thirty-two in mind;

Need I say "I'm sorry" for Jurisprudence's sake?
Would that be buoyant in any way for you?

O' please, my dear! Just set my spirit free!

How may I rectify? To make amends? To see?

Let me be a bird so I may fly far away!
O' Mighty God, let the metamorphoses commence!
I shall fly away to nest upon another branch of a tree
Thousands of miles and a day from here!
Never again shall you see my tomfoolery,
My spirit is flawed and misguided,

And I shall never again encroach upon your happiness.
You may miss me at first, but I believe that at the very worst
You shall thrive as if I had died not in vain!

O' Mama Mia! I fear it is far too late!

How I have floundered your trust in me again!

Never shall I forgive my worth come what may,

I shall cry a river upon which to sail away my sorrows.

I shall never forget the pain I wrought,

When I see you, I feel only a heavy heart:

A scarlet fever, an emoting of sorts,
And I donne black in a mourningful dearth of pleasure.

Upon the day I perish, I shall rue the times

I failed you once upon another series of moral crimes!
There will never be another time so help me God!
For I shall abscond into absentia.

Everyday is a Failure

Everyday is a Failure                                            September 25, 2013

I pray to God every night

As a good Christian should,

To care for all of my loved ones

And my dear friends, too.

I ask Him for guidance 

To lead me down the path of the righteous,

To sojourn to the twilight of my years

With a lantern serving as my guide.

And yet He says "no" every time,

Always doing so without fail.

He reads to me the Book of Job,

Saying, "Let the Plagues flail!"

He claims I can handle all my woes,

That I am strong as an ox or two,

And yet, I know in my heart of hearts

I will only fail again, and soon.
I am damned to the parade of fools!

Fair child! Look at me well

And see what not to be;

How I fail everyday so miserably,

How no one wishes to be me!

My life of achievements did not make it

Past the hinterlands and hellish flames,

And the bug in my brain speaks to me,

Kicking, screaming, crying,

Lashing out, "You'll never be free of me!"

Set my spirit free, O' Mighty God,

How I have always loved you so! 

I wish to spend a day in Your Light.

How shall I say to my future heirs,

Those in line to be bequeathed my throne!

Is to emulate me a false-positive,

"Trust, but verify" is the key?

And how, my Lord, do I say to them

When they ask about my soul?

I shall say unto them "Everyday is a failure;

I always pray to not awaken the next morn!'

Mais Pourquoi, Mon Amour? (Translated into English from French: "But Why, My Love?")

Mais Pourquoi, Mon Amour?*                                    September 23, 2013

Mais pourquoi, mon amour, mon petit bouton d'or française?**

How have I saddened you to the ends of this earth?

Tout le monde veut peu sans toi dans ma vie, ma chère!***

An Anglo-Franco alliance even in love

Is as ill-fated as the foreign relationship between the Channel.

Je me battrais autre Dunkerque juste pour être à vos côtés, mon amour,****

Comme il ya de nombreuses lunes, 

Vous étiez le Norman conquérir mon coeur juste pour écarter mes vagues!

I thought you had au cœur d'une lionne,*****

The spirit of Joan of Arc cascading like ruby falls as it coursed through your veins,

And yet here you are, a damsel in apparent distress,

Doing what so many French have for centuries

By dropping your rifle and surrendering upon the sight of battle!

Do I appear as if an emotional Maginot Line,

Or am I the Huns' raid from the east in the form of a blitzkrieg?

It appears as if we are a fait accompli, mon amour,******

Our mutual affectations beheaded by a callous guillotine du destin!*******

Waterloo and Sedan have not a thing upon our epic failure,

A defeat as immeasurable as the breadth of the heavens and Hell.

Our last tango upon the Champs-Elyssee  

Yielded little fruit other than bitterness and despair,

And ushered in our winter of discontent.

O 'Madamoiselle, voyez-vous pas?********
Pouvez-vous pas voir que nous étions censés être?
Sommes-nous maintenant à être aveuglé par la rapacité moral?
Il semble que le soleil a placé
Après une belle alliance repose une fois
Sur intentions amoureuses et l'ambition permanente.
Nous sommes morts. Nos âmes ne sont plus. Il est vrai!

Translations:

* "But Why, My Love?"

** "But why, my love, my little French buttercup?"

*** "All of the world means little without you in my life, my dear!"

**** "I would fight another Dunkirk just to be with you, my love 

As many moons ago,
You were the Norman conquer my heart just to spread my waves!"

***** "... fait accompli, my love,..."

****** "guillotine of fate!"

******** "O 'Madamoiselle, can you not see? 
Can not you see we were meant to be?
Are we now to be blinded by greed moral?
It seems that the sun has set
After a great alliance based once
Intentions of love and lifelong ambition.
We are dead. Our souls are not. It is true!"