RETURN TO NOVEL FICTIONS
by
Douglas L. Simmons
Copyright © 2004, 2005 by Douglas L. Simmons
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All Rights reserved under Internationaland Pan-American Copyright Conventions. First Published Internationally in electronic format by Global Publishing Bureau Limited, Scotland. First Global Publishing Bureau Electronic Edition: January 5, 2002
Parts of this work are Copyright © 1997 by Douglas L. Simmons Library of Congress Number: TXu 831-019
All of this work is Copyright © 2005 by Douglas L. Simmons
...every song in every heart that...
...maybe...
...might come true....
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I believe that every poem ever written should be viewed as it stands...alone.
Clustering poems together as "collections" causes the reader to glom them all into one amorphous mass of mush and catalog all the separate works as, "the poems of...," which, in the final analysis, certainly does no less than detract from the merit of each vision. I believe, who wrote the poem is of little importance. What a poem says, what it makes one feel, imagine, dream and do is the truth of a poem.
I have "reluctantly" collected all the poetry I have written to date within the electronic pages of this book. I can only hope that each reader will open the book and read a poem, close the book and let that single experience grow in their heart for a while before returning for another. However: here they are; read them as you may.
Originally, not knowing exactly how to classify my poems, I opted to simply list them in the order that the were written; hoping that, perhaps, the reader will grow along with me as they read through the development of my own work with the passage of time...keeping my thoughts alive.
With more time to ponder the desires of those who enjoy reading poetry, I concluded that not everyone would read or enjoy all of my poems; as I have written on many and varied subjects.
I attempted to categorize them (after a fashion, my own I suppose) but faced by the volume of things I attempt to accomplish every day have simply posted them by title.
I can only hope that the poem you enjoy will, calling out to you, seeking to touch your heart, your mind and your soul, find a way to be read....
Thank you for keeping my thoughts alive....
-
--the author.
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Before moving on to my listing of poems, perhaps you might want to read what follows on this page.
Below is the first edition of a news letter I published some time ago.
I have included it here, in case you would enjoy viewing a small introduction to my poetry before journeying into each individual poem.
I hope it pleases you.
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{ POET TREE }
By
Douglas L. Simmons
Newsletter: copyright © 1999 by Douglas L. Simmons
In old England poets were often referred to as Makers. This meaning may have come from the German language. But, indeed, poets were the story tellers, or makers (fabricators) of old.
The branches of a tree (the willow in particular) have often been the place where my body took shelter while my spirit roamed the heights of imagination. Making poems.
Perhaps the cover picture and the title of this article comprise the elements of another kind of poem. Which, as with all poetry, has a different meaning for each of us, evokes different emotions in every heart, and plants the seeds of other thoughts in the minds of each individual reader.
Most everything we do is for one form of profit or another. As I sit here alone writing, much like the tree pictured on the metaphorical cover of this magazine, I have hopes that I might profit from my efforts. I do not seek to benefit in terms of money, as we commonly first picture profit when we assign gain as motive.
I hope to gain satisfaction. I hope to earn attention. I hope to see a garden grow.
From these few diminutive offerings I have spread upon my plot (the space allotted me on this little screen) I would like to see grow a garden of poems.
I hope to grow not only my own flower, which others might enjoy, I hope to inspire the hearts of those others. Inspire them to plant and grow. Until there is a garden of poetry spread about the Internet.
That will be the only gain: To grow and to share in that growing.
- In Hopes Of A Garden
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, IN
I was not under a tree when this poem was given to me. (A few more drinks and I might have been under the...Ahh...but that is another story.) I was sitting in a club some years back and as I watched the band playing I noted the look of sublime satisfaction on the face of the drummer while he kept the rhythm for, not only the rest of the band members, but also for all of those patrons who were dancing and singing along or simply listening to that local bands rendition of their favorite songs.
I paused to wonder at this fellow who, in the midst of such a ruckus as exists in the confines of a night club at 1:00 am on a Saturday morning, could display such calm serenity. Could silently express such self satisfaction as he sat hidden in the shadows, blocked from the acclaim of the audience by the forms and antics of the singer, the lead guitarist, and the base player. Then the lead guitarist dropped his pick and, as he leaned down over his amplifier to locate another one, I understood....
- Beater For The Band
He said; "I don't pick no guitar strings,
and I don't ever try to sing,
but I can make those cymbals ring.
I got the rhythm in my hands."
He said; "I don't try to write no songs.
I sit back here and play the drums.
I click the blocks and bang the gongs,
I'm the beater for the band."
He said; "When I see them dancin' time
I know for now the crowd is mine.
I try my best to play so fine.
I'm the beater for the band."
He said; "The singer sings to the high-hat clicks,
and the rhythm's right there in the sticks;
but the lead guitar misses a lick.
He covers up the best he can."
"I pick up time on my old snare drum.
It brings him home and he saves the song.
He knows he never can go wrong
while the sticks are in my hands."
Doug L.
1982 Hammond, Indiana
I simply can not think of one single reason why this following poem would need any explanation at all....
-
Never Take For Granted
There' never been another lover
quite the likes of you.
No one' ever under covers
done the things you do.
Never have such deep emotions
set my heart aflame.
After such a wild commotion
how could I ever be the same?
Bodies made to please each other
move in perfect time.
Never will there be another
matched so close to mine.
Lest I take this love for granted,
or let you do the same,
these words are in my mind implanted
and in my heart remain.
Doug L.
Hammond Indiana
November 8, 1993 12:30 A.M
Poetry has always fascinated me.
Unlike the novel, which tells a story and takes you in depth into the lives of the characters who comprise the tale, leads you on a journey and brings you safely to the end of that way (or not) the poem shows you the heart of its subject.
Rather than letting you see, it causes you to feel and hopefully embark upon the journey rather than wait to be lead. Begin a journey whose only destination is the way...
-
Ever Sing
Won't you be my ever sing,
and that would bring,
everything, so true?
I would go against the world
and shake it down
on every crown I knew,
if it could lead me
near to you.
Love will be a fated thing
and every scheme to bring the rain
will not leave it blue.
This is only one more song
strung along, the same old line
and won't define the world.
And you, girl, and you
leave me standing in your pain,
and handing out the programs again,
like the same old shows we used to play.
There is no name that I can frame
to say the way it grows
to be the beauty that poets used to see.
Won't you take another line,
and sing your mind up to the time we grew?
Shakespeare wrote his verse and rhyme,
and (I guess like mine)
spoke his heart beyond his time.
His gifts of sadness understanding,
and not demanding any other dreams,
were written to be, the same as me...
...to you.
Won't you give another line, another note,
the ones you wrote when all you are finding
was not binding you?
When your heart knew the part it beat,
and you were no repeat.
And then so fleet to flash away,
and echoes pay their homage back to you.
Now that will come to pass away too,
but it all bridges back to you,
that is the way that most songs do.
When the chorus is done
the theme will run on through.
If we were to ever sing
would it bring anything to you?
Doug L.
November, 12 1973
Mainz, Germany
I do not know if this poem describes the lady, or the tramp. Or, perhaps, the tramp looking at the lady...or the lady, the tramp.
-
Looking At Her
Like a freedom bird she flies
overhead.
Like an Eagles word she dies
all alone.
She heals me with her lies
when I have bled,
and she fills me with her eyes
when I'm stone.
Looking at her self
she'll take me off my shelf
(and hold me) for some comfort
and a smile.
Yes she loves me,
I'm her lover,
and there isn't any other.
For a while.
Doug L.
December 6, 1973
Baumholder, Germany
Perhaps, in the end, the best we can hope for is some comfort and a smile.
-
Mirror
Young man sitting in a porch swing,
isn't worried about being old.
Young man thinks he has a song to sing,
you know he hasn't been told.
Young girl laughing in the moon light,
found her a lover to keep.
Girl crying in the morning light,
learning that lovers want to leap.
Father I'm at a turning in my life.
I'm standing where you were.
Father I'm learning the trouble and strife,
and there is nothing that I can do.
Old man in a porch swing, he's cold,
and he has leaving on his mind.
Old man with nothing to hold,
not even very much time.
This is not what I believe,
just a mirror in your face.
It isn't something you can leave,
or that you can replace.
Doug L.
January 27, 1974
Mainz, Germany
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CLICKABLE INDEX TO POEMS
Poems in A
Poems in B
Poems in C
Poems in D
Poems in E
Poems in F
Poems in G
Poems in H
Poems in I
Poems in J
Poems in K
Poems in L
Poems in M
Poems in N
Poems in O
Poems in P
Poems in Q
Poems in R
Poems in S
Poems in T
Poems in U
Poems in V
Poems in W
Poems in X
Poems in Y
Poems in Z
....continue the journey...
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- Thank you for keeping my thoughts alive.
(Save this page in your favorites. Check back from time to time for new articles or something you may have missed along the way.)
- Thank you for keeping my thoughts alive.
An astute writer once advised all readers: "If you are reading and come upon a word which you do not know the meaning of, immediately, go to the dictionary and find out. Else you might well miss the single most important message in the book!"
I believe this advice could indeed apply to every aspect of our lives.
Dictionary.com...don't leave your homepage without it!
