More Stories: A Book of Poems

By Don Edwards

More Stories -- A Book Of Poems continues the themes of Love and Death from Don Edwards' previous book, Scars and Stories -- Poems. These poems show us that love can elevate us above the gravity of everyday life. At the same time, we are reminded that, despite our sense of decision-making power, we live with a mere illusion of control. The clock is constantly ticking but we can offer and accept love and, in so doing, not fear the darkness or the final day. Don Edwards received a Masters Degree in English from the University of Tennessee. His first book of poetry is Scars and Stories -- Poems. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483488981

Don Edwards

Don Edwards has previously published four books of poetry. These are Scars and Stories — Poems, More Stories — A Book of Poems, The Third Book — A Book of Poems, Mostly, and To Warm The Solitary Night. The third book is “mostly” poems because it includes a handful of stories at the end. Everybody Wants To Be Loved is his fifth book of poetry. Mr Edwards is also the founding member of True Gospel Bookstore which records his poems as songs. These songs can be heard on all streaming services. Also, he has recorded some of these poems for the True Gospel Bookstore website. If you would like to hear them, go to the “Book of Poems” page at www.truegospelbookstore.com. Most of these poems consider the topics of Love and Death, which is all that matters, and also the M poems. Mr Edwards lives in Los Angeles.

Book preview

Edwards

Copyright © 2018 Don Edwards.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8899-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8898-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908754

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 7/27/2018

Old men like I have only scars and stories

To keep

And spread in thick red pools of memories

Between the ironic chuckles of a

Life outlasting

And the periodic moans of what might have been.

From Scars and Stories, Old Men Like I

Volume One

We Are But Recycled

We are but recycled souls.

Absent that I cannot explain

My tangled memories

Nor my desultory life.

No other reason seems to be

For what happens daily still to me.

Visions of unknown rivers and forests,

Nameless broad gray lakes

Reflecting a foreign sky

Fill my nightly view.

And then there's you —

Your visit every evening,

The darkness as your doorway,

My dreams your limousine.

All I can do is watch you

Rising up, aglow in sweetness,

A power I have never seen,

Your quiet smile otherworldly

And remembered from afar.

Your countenance defies gravity

And floats above the earth's troubled rim,

The supernal answer to my life's dreary quest.

You refuse time's constant drag,

Embrace freedom — beat back

The resistance of the clock.

No more regulation, no longer lost

In time but here for an infinite now

To answer love's repeated call.

I have sensed you

Just around the corner

From the day's noisy churn.

Sometime before this life,

You promised, I'll be right back,

And here I await, scenting the life before

Which you made worth the living.

You have slept throughout my life

Now awake to us.

All is stumble and process —

No words to ease the day.

I know from the light in your eyes,

The falcon stare direct and potent,

That you are here for me.

More than that is still the mystery

Of time's twisted way.

I Am

I am not your Red Cross Knight

But how I wish I were.

I cannot make you promises

Because it's all designed to fail.

All I can do is say how much I love you

Say that I love you

I love you

As the meager days plod by.

No I am not your Savior.

I'm as lost as all the rest.

I cannot take you over there.

The way is dark and long.

All I can do is say how much I love you

Say that I love you

I love you

As the wicked days confound.

Neither am I your Mentor.

The answers elude me.

The questions themselves

Seem fuzzy and askance.

All I can do is say how much I love you

Say that I love you

I love you

As the perplexing days spin past.

But yes I can be your partner

Though I am only here awhile.

I can care and touch and sing to you

A song to last as long as we

And say each moment how much I love you

Say that I love you

I love you

As our precious days float quiet by.

Love and Death

The days burned hot, unending,

When all of this began.

I felt the union all around —

A brotherhood, a common realm.

But hours sped on and knots dissolved.

The perceived empowerment failed,

Unraveling into a tangled mess

Of opposing shoves and thoughtless shrugs,

While years trudged along an unseen course

As dreams forgot their sway,

And I kept holding to the rules I'd set

Derived from those who saw the way.

But after you beat the horse all day,

The horse don't feel the beating.

I can only carry this load so long

Then nothing can make me step again.

As time churns on —

Beginning love and ending life —

There are only two escapes.

Both Love and Death await us each

And all are subject to these fates.

Philip ODed alone one night

While you and I snuggled deep into

Each other's souls.

His breathing went fast for a time,

His pulse a flashing beat.

Then both slowed to unmeasurable,

And brown warmth drifted away

Into the blue world surround.

We should have seen it coming,

I guess, should have known

Such startling smiles and constant heat

Could not be real

But a shield between others and the lonely

Pain that ate his feet away.

I wonder what he was thinking

As the ticking grew louder.

What dreams occurred when

It faded?

What is it that we can do

What is it that we should wish

What is it that we may bring

To the day?

Since then you have gone as well,

Disappeared from my life and

I have lost all the love that was

And all that could yet be.

Overcome, I grumble vicious and unkind.

A pulse twitches my wrist but I am not alive.

My chest rises and deflates yet I am not aware.

I am now a sexless thing and raw.

Death or impotence —

That is now the question.

Love lost and lonely,

As age, that defect of birth.

Now mars my daily life.

I can only think to dance

All day and dream again of what is not.

Dance hard while in my reverie

You both rise from the dark

Sweet and wet and

Found once more

And for awhile.

The Fires

The fires burn each day and night

Of my wretched slogging life

By the yellow river's edge

Where the steaming air is sucked away

Through bullying gravity's dull torn web.

Here the