1973
See the penguins, semi circle
Hopping, wildly
See the several centers
Rising mildly
See the sole penguins
Gather all around
Hear their flapping
Hear their clapping
Hear the present penguins
Baboons chose as leader
By who’s the stronger
On the other hand with penguins
It’s who will flap the longer
1974
Blessed be the white man
Who has resurrected himself?
Moved hands of time
With his worthless wealth
Calling upon all his gods
And paying at the shrine
Certainly gods’ must work overtime
1975
The time the paper mill exploded
The found out the watchman
Was loaded
And they couldn’t believe the news
And they couldn’t believe their ears
It’s been working so good for so many years
1976
The epidemic
Spread and spread
The carrier, was money
They said
And it spread and it spread
And it spread….
Dale
Thursday, December 31, 2009
A poem from December 1972
It was seen happening, by the Millhouse stream
The fantastic maneuvers, of the election machine
Turned up to early, by the Watergates rush
It came down from the Millhouse
In a fearful gush
Riding in view, for all to observe
The election machine maneuvers
Its rumbling can be heard
It is now time, for all to ride
Catching the wind on the rising tide
Had one been in the Millhouse
He surely would have died
But down by the Millhouse stream
The Watergates rush, seemed to carry, the election machine
On a voyage, serene
For all to observe, and yet not see
Constitutes wonderment, how this could be.
Dale
The fantastic maneuvers, of the election machine
Turned up to early, by the Watergates rush
It came down from the Millhouse
In a fearful gush
Riding in view, for all to observe
The election machine maneuvers
Its rumbling can be heard
It is now time, for all to ride
Catching the wind on the rising tide
Had one been in the Millhouse
He surely would have died
But down by the Millhouse stream
The Watergates rush, seemed to carry, the election machine
On a voyage, serene
For all to observe, and yet not see
Constitutes wonderment, how this could be.
Dale
December 1976
Jimmy Harper, December 1976
Well it was real nice, getting your letter. Elizabeth and I enjoyed reading it; Lillian remembers you and still likes those little books. She is doing better now and talking and when we fuss with her she just fusses back at us. She’s a good little girl. Elizabeth is taking her GED soon and hopes to become an accountant, there are some courses offered. I am good with numbers too. I’ve given some considerable thought with masonry and still pursue my plumbing. We don’t want to make money anyways we just want to live and love. Work together with an end, be happy which we already are, but not get involved with anyone. The way to go is light as possible. But never the less, it something to try, it’s all just paper and ink, even the dollar, and anything that is tangible isn’t for the heart but the hand. The things for the heart are all the things nature gives and you know that.
I remember all those things I learned from you. I remember the farm and how you always had to worry about the numbers. All the things that the land had to offer, to see the planting, the cultivating, the waiting, the growing, the harvest is to see life and death to continual process to see the animals, trees and water, which I know must’ve kept you moving. I guess it must’ve done something to me. The seasons affect the way I am. I know that you know, but I don’t think many people know why? I think that’s the most important thing I know.
There are not many days that I don’t think about that old house of your father and mothers and that little creek in my mind. I wrote a lot of poems about 800. People that I read them to enjoy my poems. I enjoy writing them and reading them also. Some of them just come to me and as I write them they come out perfect and others I have to edit because the verses sometimes don’t correspond. I’ve done it a lot so now I can criticize them. I think a lot. I also write songs and play them.
I was never much of a son to you and I wish I would’ve listen to you more often. I’m glad I learned what little I have. The snow out here doesn’t effect no one until its about 2 feet deep. The snow falls different here then out on the low lands. The mountains and the winter show you just how small man is.
Sometimes I feel like an old farm boy who someday will get to go home. Compared to you I’ll always be a boy. I’m going to send you some poems, one from every year, starting in 1972. Someday I’ll be famous jimmy Harper. I hope you have a good birthday and Christmas. Dale
Well it was real nice, getting your letter. Elizabeth and I enjoyed reading it; Lillian remembers you and still likes those little books. She is doing better now and talking and when we fuss with her she just fusses back at us. She’s a good little girl. Elizabeth is taking her GED soon and hopes to become an accountant, there are some courses offered. I am good with numbers too. I’ve given some considerable thought with masonry and still pursue my plumbing. We don’t want to make money anyways we just want to live and love. Work together with an end, be happy which we already are, but not get involved with anyone. The way to go is light as possible. But never the less, it something to try, it’s all just paper and ink, even the dollar, and anything that is tangible isn’t for the heart but the hand. The things for the heart are all the things nature gives and you know that.
I remember all those things I learned from you. I remember the farm and how you always had to worry about the numbers. All the things that the land had to offer, to see the planting, the cultivating, the waiting, the growing, the harvest is to see life and death to continual process to see the animals, trees and water, which I know must’ve kept you moving. I guess it must’ve done something to me. The seasons affect the way I am. I know that you know, but I don’t think many people know why? I think that’s the most important thing I know.
There are not many days that I don’t think about that old house of your father and mothers and that little creek in my mind. I wrote a lot of poems about 800. People that I read them to enjoy my poems. I enjoy writing them and reading them also. Some of them just come to me and as I write them they come out perfect and others I have to edit because the verses sometimes don’t correspond. I’ve done it a lot so now I can criticize them. I think a lot. I also write songs and play them.
I was never much of a son to you and I wish I would’ve listen to you more often. I’m glad I learned what little I have. The snow out here doesn’t effect no one until its about 2 feet deep. The snow falls different here then out on the low lands. The mountains and the winter show you just how small man is.
Sometimes I feel like an old farm boy who someday will get to go home. Compared to you I’ll always be a boy. I’m going to send you some poems, one from every year, starting in 1972. Someday I’ll be famous jimmy Harper. I hope you have a good birthday and Christmas. Dale
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)