Down Home Thinkin'

By Richard FitzGerald

An easy reading collection of poetry written by an average Joe attending the University of life. With a minor in trials and tribulations and a major in survival, it is poetic that writing poetry helps one through life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644240656

Book preview

Can You See?

Warmth in a child given the cold shoulder?

Compassion in a child not shown love?

Hope in a child beaten into submission?

Trust in a child constantly deceived?

Faith in the child of negativity?

Direction of a child manipulated?

Love in a child constantly belittled?

Seeds sown becoming victims of those who encompass them.

I see that!

A Date with Mom

Savory memories flooded from a poem of mine.

Written for my mom at Easter time.

Simple are what the words would be.

Still, they represented what she meant to me.

Made a date with my mom today.

I’d meet her at one and be on our way.

She was ready, and her hair looked fine.

Proud she was to go out and dine.

We ate like birds which didn’t matter.

Saved the rest and gave back the platter.

Decided to go on a shopping spree.

Stores were all closed. It was Easter, you see.

So we rode around and talked about things.

Enjoying the company, even chuckling.

Our time went fast and she said it was late.

Time to go home, the end of our date.

So I took her home and walked her to the door.

Let’s do it again, and she said Sure!

The Quarry

A pool of spring water regurgitated from somewhere in the earth.

Constantly cold and consistently refreshing on a hot humid day.

Clear and clean so fish are observed and watched in awe.

Where water bugs skelter across the surface to unknown destinations.

Leaves float until saturated, then descend to the bottom and deteriorate in due time.

Reflecting its transposed surroundings so magically, you believe it to be real.

Creating an atmosphere of peaceful calm and serenity that overshadows pain.

Wondering what its depth may hold that would be intriguing to an inquisitive mind.

A surface large enough that a tube is sufficient enough for a pleasure trip.

A cliff high enough that confidence is gained by the first leap from it.

Come Closer

Hard to see me I’m so far away. So you don’t strain your eyes, I say, Come closer.

You walk until you are nearer. The sight of me is getting clearer—come closer.

You focus in and see some gray. You are guessing I’m mature, it looks that way—come closer.

Now you see wrinkles and fine lines, creations from passing years of time—come closer.

My eyes still shine and twinkle at will. Expressive as ever, you can read them still—come closer.

You are close enough. Don’t pass me by. Now get to know me. Smile and say Hi!

To Me

In writing a poem, I do believe,

Things within me, I do relieve.

It is not so bad a gesture

To rid oneself from unknown pressure.

There is one thing that I know

With woe through life, we cannot go.

Life makes us face one thing—realities.

In order to do this, we must maintain our faculties.

In written lines that are reread,

We see the things that are in our head.

After careful study and much thought,

We see some relief, in ourselves, we’ve brought.

The Storm

The storm has passed,

leaving behind both a grim and beautiful picture.

Tired from weathering the storm,

some trees have snapped under the burden.

Others have bowed gracefully low

to show their strength under pressure.

When the sun came up, the opportunity

to shine was given to all of them.

Beauty was bestowed on all of creation this day.

Even those of them with faults.

The scene is the same every

day, if we wish to keep an eye

open to that fact.

We are given so much, yet so many

deny themselves the gifts they have received.

The Change

Well it’s Sunday, and it does seem fair

that I give in and slip on a brand-new pair.

Monday is a no brainer, I’ve found.

You take them off and turn them around.

It’s Tuesday and I must be blunt,

it’s inside out and to the front.

Wednesday, for ingenuity, I do not lack.

It’s inside out and front to the back.

Thursday, what have we to gain?

We start again but with a stain.

Friday, it’s a no brainer, you shout,

you slip them on—the stain facing out.

Saturday, the stain that now doesn’t stink,

is inside out, facing the front, I think?

The week