Trust

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Trust

In the dark deep night of a Winter’s day
I ponder thoughts that happen my way.
Warm by your side, yet a chill draft comes
Making me think of the nature of love.

I do not trust that we will be perfect
That our love we will never reject.
I know we are human and likely to fall
If put on a pedestal haughty and tall.

I do not trust that we will never fail
Our bodies are wicked and tend to be frail.
The best intentions come crashing down
When piled by two lovers and sloppily bound.

Trust can be a most  flighty thing.
Trust hovers about on flimsy wings.
One thing we know, there can be no doubt
We trust in each other to work things out.

Love Is Not Fair

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Love Is Not Fair

Love is not fair, and lovers will find
It is better with love to be tolerant and kind.
Forgiving the faults of the human being
Who all of your faults is constantly seeing.

Love is not fair, it is never equal.
Your hope in your heart, your heart on a wheel.
Spinning and rolling day after day.
It seems things never go your way.

Love is not fair, it will turn on you,
But your lover will be there to comfort you.
Grateful, you will lean and be held.
Growing stronger as the two of you meld.

Love is not fair, but it is so right.
Seeking a hand in the dead of night.
Taking control then giving completely.
Helping and guiding each other tenderly.

Fair and Right

From “The Poems of John H.Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Fair and Right

This incredible world holds many things.
Wondrous awe it daily brings.
On this ancient stage where life lifts the curtain.
Nothing is fair and that is for certain.

Young people die in old people’s wars.
Lovers are parted by slamming doors.
The poor slave in the rich’s homes.
Heartbreaking words fill every poem.

The world may not ever be fair,
But take a bit of solace here.
If you do what is right rewarded you’ll be.
Seek to do right and despair will flee.

Do good and be right to all you know,
Life will goodness your way throw.
Reap the benefits of a steady mind.
To all in the world be equally kind.

Fairness will never be found if sought.
Righteous anger should never be wrought.
To look for fairness is utterly fruitless.
Be right in your actions never the less.

Praise and Criticism

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Praise and Criticism

How we love a hint of praise,
Lightens our step and makes our day.
Makes us feel so superior,
Like we were never seen before.
Even if the kudos was weak,
We grow a smile from cheek to cheek.
Praise puts in the eye a certain gleam,
A definite boost to the self-esteem.
A simple thing, a pleasant word,
Becomes the best thing we ever heard.

And yet praise’s partner, criticism,
Can bring a halt to all witticism.
A cruel remark and all creativity
Is put in a boat and set out to sea.
The critic is always so sincere,
Whispering only the truth in our ear.
But whispers turn to inward dread.
We can not get it out of our head.
A hardhearted word is a dangerous thing.
Ponder the tumult that it brings.

Considering the fact that we are all brothers,
What gives one the right to judge another?
We are all just the same within,
Human and spirit under the skin.
Who is above and who is below?
Who is chosen to be the one to know?
Although praise is sweet it is not needed,
When inner peace is consulted and heeded.
A criticism meant for good or bad,
Is not something that we need to have.

It is so hard not to seek praise,
Live our lives in a joyful way.
To smile at those who criticize.
Knowing they can not realize,
That to judge another is not their place.
How hard to live without a trace
Of righteousness, insisting we must be heard.
As if nothing as important as our words.
Imagine to never be judged at all
Free and unencumbered, standing tall.

The Great Game

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted by M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

The Great Game

In all the plans you can arrange
There is nothing as certain as change.
Every dawn brings  a perilous ride.
Every evening a slippery slide.

Better, I think, to go along.
Following the enticing song
Of what life has in store for you,
Instead of planning what to do.

A river rises while you grow
There is no way to halt its flow.
You can not hold the rushing water
If you try to fight you will always falter.

It’s a  meandering course that life takes.
To go against the current is a mistake.
It’s a weary burden to stay the same
While the river engulfs you in the Great Game.

The Great Game of living each moment,
Precious with joy or fiendish with torment.
To win the Great Game you must admit freely
That change is the only certainty.

A Storm Is Brewing

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

A Storm Is Brewing

A storm is brewing in your eyes.
At first the humid air will rise,
Sweat at the brow seeking relief
Still and silent you will not speak.

The air stirring with a cooling breeze,
Around your steaming body will tease.
The pressure of falling temperatures
Hint at sweet release in the future.

Release does not come, it is warmer still.
Clouds brooding, rumbling, gathering until
The air is thick with potential rain,
Cloying, bringing headache and pain.

The dark clouds swirling, form together.
The air is tense with foreboding weather.
Then a sudden flash of lightning proceeds
A clap of thunder with blinding speed.

Taken aback at the stormy gloom,
I ponder what will be coming soon.
I thought tempestuous days were through.
This gray, stormy rage will never do.

Caught in the storm the lightning strikes.
I run from thunder and bolts alike.
Your words as teeming rain doth flow.
The wind grows wild and fiercely blows.

A raging storm can not last all morning,
And soon it passes without a warning.
A smile of sunshine curls your lip
From the water of apology I take a sip.

The storm that brewed is finally spent.
Your eyes assume their mischievous glint.
It is so easy to weather a storm
When hearts are true and love is strong.

Misery Loves Company

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Misery Loves Company

Misery loves company
And you feel miserable.
So come and sit beside me,
To that I would be agreeable.

I will keep you company,
But I will not share your misery.

You may continue on your rant
And I will listen peacefully.
I will not join you, I can not
Destroy the joy I found so recently.

I will keep you company,
But I will not share your misery.

I will let you storm and rage
Nodding my head now and then.
You pace like a lion in a cage.
My placid stance will not bend.

I will keep you company,
But I will not share your misery.

When you are spent and done,
I will take you by the hand
And gently feed you reason.
I will show you where I stand.

I will keep you company,
But I will not share your misery.

The Vessel

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

The Vessel

Trapped in a vessel of earthly form
Into this fragile life we are born.
Shackled and chained in darkness kept
Alone in deep dungeons I wept.
No soothing voice to calm the fears,
No heavenly grace to halt the tears.
Oh, raise me up on angel’s wings
Yearning to hear a bell chorus ring.
Tolling the time has come at last
To leave the darkness in the past.

Oh, break the shackles, set me free!
Cut these forged chains binding me.
Throw the weapons on the ground,
Let them rust, never to be found.
Take up the song of the Cherubim
Reach out to the fiery Seraphim.
Power is in the fruit of the tongue,
Let the words of the soul be sprung.
Flowing like a stream of fresh spring rain,
Echoing the laughter from which it came.

Fill me up! Fill me up, overflowing with joy!
Worn from loving like a child’s favorite toy
I will speak my words into the night
Trading distrust for truth and light.
The dungeon will be a glowing pool,
Sweet water lapping,calm, and cool.
A pool of tears that I have cried,
A memory to remain after I have died.
Reminder to others trapped and forlorn,
To surrender your vessel to be transformed.

Anger and Reason

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Anger and Reason

The angry word, a cruel remark
Can mean nothing more than a mood.
But words can also set off a spark
That can erase all thoughts of good.

The anger starts upon a match
That eagerly sets to lite
Thoughts, held back by reason, catch
Burning rapidly and bright.

The anger will not stop at burning
For it may heedlessly blow out.
It uses the reserves it has been storing
Months worth of resentment it shouts.

Eventually anger will stop to breathe
And reason will gather its forces.
Resentment and anger together will leave
Having run their destructive courses.

Reason is left to assess the damage
And clean up the disastrous row.
Regrets and apologies follow the carnage
And anger is thwarted, for now.

Love is a Precious, Precious Thing

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Love is a Precious, Precious Thing

Love is a precious, precious thing,
It hovers about on gossamer wings.
Reaching for it will make it fly.
Over and over again we will try
To watch and catch it where it lands,
And feel it fluttering in our hands.

Love is a precious, precious thing,
Growing impatient to hear it sing,
We trap it in a golden cage,
Stamping around in a fiery rage,
If anyone dares to hear its song.
Jealous love seems so, so wrong.

Love is a precious, precious thing,
Its beak  is small, but it can bring
A sprig of love to plant and wait
For it to grow and seal our fate.
Watered with our perennial tears
It flowers joyfully year after year.

Love is a precious, precious thing,
Though warm and soft it has a sting.
Its heart can only be given freely
To another heart committed completely.
Or else it perishes in a frigid storm
Taken by the howling wind, forlorn.

Love is a precious, precious thing,
Around its talon it wears a ring
To show that it is not alone.
It belongs somewhere, it has a home.
So simple, yet, so hard to give,
Release your love to let love live.