Friday, October 26, 2018

I Cannot Help But Sing


I Cannot Help But Sing

I don’t know everything there is to know
I never took the time to find out why
The warm sun spins and the rivers roll
And time keeps flowing by
But I’m filled with wonder for I see
His love followed me around,
When I was lost He loved me and still
Loved me when I was found

Every plant and rock and breathing thing
Holds creation’s mystery.
I’ve searched not understanding,
What every sense was telling me
For love’s the very essence,
The song in every living thing
God’s breathing, silent, strong and free
And all nature cannot help but sing.

I cannot help but sing,
In the wind the music sounds
The very mountains ring with it,
The oceans roar and pound
A joyful percussion moving in me
So strong I could not help but sing
I know he’s watching over me
He loves me and I cannot help but sing.

© 2018 Tom King

Monday, September 24, 2018

Down by the Cool Cool Water





Down by the Cool Cool Water

    E                             A
1. A long time ago a woman came
            B7                          E
    To a well where Jesus taught her,
                                           A
    That if you never want to thirst no more,
                         B7                   E
    You’ve gotta come to the livin’ water.

Chorus:
              E            B7
Oh Lord, let me live
                                  E
Down by the cool cool water
     E                      B7
Spread out like a healing flood
                                          E
Oh l want to live down by the water.

2. When I was a young man I didn’t know
    Which way to go and what I ought to
    Till I stepped down with the preacher man
    Down into the cool cool water

Chorus:

3. Walkin’ along the road of life ,
    Had a couple of sons and a daughter
    Side by side with a loving wife
    We were thirsty for that living water.

Instrumental break

4 We’re all livin’ in a thirsty land
    And it keeps on gettin’ hotter.
    But you’re never gonna have to thirst again,
    If you’re livin’ every day by the water.

Chorus:

5. One day soon we’re all goin’ home
    Each precious soul Jesus fought for.
    I know there’s a porch in heaven for me
    And it’s down by the cool cool water.

Chorus:

End:
  B7                          E
Down by the cool cool water.....
 B7                               A          E
Down by the cool cool water.


© 2018 by Tom King

Friday, August 24, 2018

They Demand You Give Them Facts



They Demand You Give Them Facts
 
They demand you give them facts,
But refuse to accept them when they've got them.
They only give you feelings and cynicism in return,
And think they've won the argument.
They say that you have nothing to offer,
And it breaks your heart that you know a secret,
That they do not.
That life is full of joy
Of meaning and purpose,
If you give Him half a chance..

© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, May 14, 2018

The Moth Girls


 

 

The Moth Girls

Up and up the moth girls ascended
On heated zephyrs with iridescent wings,
Lifting them up toward the flickering stars
Above where aerie heights beckoned “Join us.”

And in their brief ascent toward the high places,
The moth girls touched the flames along the way;
Flames that fed the updrafts that were lifting them
In exchange for the kind of fuel that feeds a fire.

Hashtag angels, judged worthy by the very fire
That singed and blackened their nacreous wings;
Flames that judged their further worth by whether
Their youth and beauty had yet been all burned up.

Pity the moth girls weary of the long climb,
Wings tattered, crying out because to be a star
Seems now too great a price to ever pay,
Now that the aerie heights seem finally lost to them.

They join a thousand other me-too moth girls
Spinning down, trailing smoke, emitting thin pathetic screams
Because in the cold and pitiless air of the descent they feel
Their burned skin and the nakedness of their wings. 

And so, the hastag moth girls cry, “The cruel flames above;
That fed our giddy ascent must be extinguished!
For the brightness of the light must not draw the innocent
Upward toward our once high places, bought with our own iridescence.”

© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Pressing Business


 

 Pressing Business


My shirts tend to be a bit wrinkled these days.
   I don’t even own an iron anymore.
       Perma-press, though not permanent or pressed
            Will have to do for me, I have no ironing board.

I guess I ought to get one just in case,
   I ever have to go someplace formal,
       Or even semi-formal with a tie and all
            Though I haven’t donned a tie in ages.

Things are changing for us baby boomers,
    Even simple things finally settle into a rut.
        With other comfortable things we’ve tossed in there
              Over the years, collecting the best things in life.

Trouble is that once we’ve become set in our ways
     And predictable in our moods and appetites,
           No one is interested in asking us anymore,
                What we care about or whether we’d like to try something new.

So we get along fine without irons and ironing boards          
     Our music collections grow more slowly and selectively.
           And we eat the same things for supper and brush our teeth
                 With the same danged toothpaste we always use.

And furthermore we don’t even care if adult children don’t like it.
     And think we’re no longer even relevant.
           And isn’t it nice to be content to be just who we are,
                  And finally free of caring about the judgment of others.


© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 30, 2018

We Ain’t Going Quiet-Like


Getting old is not for sissies
   If you’re weak they bundle you off
Somewhere you can be taken care of
   Somewhere they can drop you off.
Be careful in your golden years,
   You might want to move far away.
Where the kids can’t watch you deteriorate,
   And maybe send the grandkids to stay.
I blame my Irish ancestors
   That land of youth from their stories
Has given us committees now to determine
   If we’re still in “worth treating” categories.
The Golden Years it seems have gone brass
   Not in favor with those who advertise
So they cancel our favorite TV shows,
   We’re the wrong demographic I surmise.
But the youth of the rising generation
   Have underestimated this generation of geezers.
I don’t think we will go very quietly,
   Though we may be a bunch of old wheezers.

© 2018 by Tom King

Saturday, April 28, 2018

The New Sea




The New Sea

What will God do with us sailors?
   In the New Earth if there is no sea?
I can’t imagine a world without dolphins.
   No whales, no old walruses like me.
I had plans to build a sailboat in Earth made new,
   A catamaran, a schooner, sloop, or yacht or
A ketch I can launch, board and sail on,
   Surely God can spare enough water.
Jesus likes fishermen and sailors.
   They were the first ones that He chose.
So for now I'll trust Jesus, who loves me,
   For my love for the sea He knows.   
  
 © 2018 by Tom King

Friday, April 27, 2018

In a Moment


 

In A Moment

In a moment, I knew God had breathed in me.
I knew it the way my body knows
Oxygen when I draw breath
In great gasping lungfuls.
After diving deep beneath the water
Far from the good cool air.

In the twinkling of an eye, I saw light
Pouring through a crack He opened
In heaven’s door for me so I could see
My way in the world by its gleaming;
A light that follows me down the years
Till even now it shows the way.

At the last trumpet, I will know Him
Hear the hoofbeats of his coming in the distance,
And feel the thunder of his approach.
As the clouds roll in and the sky breaks open.
I see the signs, smell the season’s changing,
And hear the wind among the ripening harvest.

We shall not all sleep but we shall all be changed.
 Feel the stirrings of endless ages yet to come
Within our hearts. and in the stillness of the morning,
Rumblings in the Earth and lightnings upon the mountains,
Announcing the moment, the twinkling of the eye,
In which eternity begins, and tomorrow sings of endless joy.

I Corinthians: 15:52

© 2018 by Tom King

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Four Letter Words


 

Four Letter Words

Mom’s firm with them kids that were hers,
Don’t cuss, don’t sass, wipe your feet.
Don’t soil, don’t muss, your best duds.
Moms like when your suit doth stay neat.

© 2018 by Tom King

Mono-Syllabic



Mono-Syllabic


As president, Cal scarce did say aught,
"Use long words?" he said "I shall not."
Just words that are short
Were for him favorite sport.
He kept his conversation quite taut.

© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Hyperpolysyllabic


Hyperpolysyllabic

If I use words ginormously and complexically
I may conjugate inordinately lexicographically
Using verbiage polysyllabic
Is a most formidable trick.
Big words are problematic philologically

© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 23, 2018

Cathexis



Cathexis

    A Haiku

It is your passion.
Hold fast, dig deep and obsess.
Create collections

© By Tom King

Sunday, April 22, 2018

In Spring the Owls Hoot


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Spring the Owls Hoot


In spring the owls hoot back and forth,
   From one end of our 50 acre wood
To the other; singing solemn songs
   To one another in double couplets.

Two wise old birds looking for love,
   Casting feathered sonnets on the breeze
Whispering through the leaves and branches
   Searching for the hollow of another owlish ear.

In spring the owls, high in the branches looking down,
    Are at it all day when usually they are sleeping,
Startling jays and crows with their gruff songs of love,
   And scaring the crap out of the squirrels.

© 2018 by Tom King


Vegan Secret Sin





Vegan Secret Sin

There was a young woman from Seattle;
A vegan who would not eat cattle.
She ate only veggies,
And leaves off the hedges,
But has a weakness for chicken don't tattle.

© 2018 by Tom King

Friday, April 20, 2018

Infinities of Choosing





 

 

 

 

 

Infinities of Choosing

Paths diverge in the woods.
Not just one or two, but ten and twenty.
Choices ad infinitum
Stretching out ahead among the trees;
Among the hills and waterways.
A thousand choices, a thousand paths,
Each choice a share in all creation,
Each selection a partnership with God.
We wend our long befuddled way through time
And vast and breathless spaces.
For without the act of choosing
Creation would have faltered at the start.
Unless the first footfalls of the making
Of the universe were chosen by a warm
And wise intelligence that loved us and built
This infinite home with room for children yet to be.

© 2018 by Tom King

Now I'm Sixty-Four




Now I’m Sixty-Four

Happy birthday to me
I grew up in the trees,
Now I’m just an old ape-man,
With two gimpy knees.

© 2018 by Tom King


Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Rows of Soldiers



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rows of Soldiers


Painted footprints on the sidewalk
In front of the recruiting office
Where young men and women line up standing tall
In a row, their first time as soldiers.

In antiquated tidy rows they learn to stand,
Row on row on parade grounds marching,
For commanders who still love rows
Despite their lack of usefulness in modern war.

No one attacks in close formation anymore,
Or boxes like Napoleon’s or static lines like Redcoats.
No one lines up neatly to be slaughtered anymore
By other men in other lines with guns and standing at attention. 

Instead they fight the way our fathers fought,
In the beginning when with rifled muskets, taking pot shots.
American soldiers hid behind the trees and rocks, not fighting fair,
But fighting for a purpose; fighting to be free.

And in the end our soldiers, not so young now,
Come home to stand in neat lines on parade grounds
One more time to give us one last look and a chance
To show our gratitude,
          ... for their service.

 
© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

We See the Sun


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We See the Sun

Even when the sky is gray
And the clouds so thick you can’t see where
Or if the sun is shining still,
And yet we know the sun is there
For by it I see everything
In the scattered light of day.
I know tomorrow grass will grow
And soon the clouds will roll away.
Storms may hide the sun sometimes
And in the darkness fling the thunder,
Lightning, hail and sheets of rain,
And cause us all to wonder,
Why the gentle warming sun
Would allow the wind and snow.
Until you see the daisies rise
Among the puddles, then you know.
 
© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 16, 2018

Zombie Piano Player - A Limerick



The Zombie Piano Player

There once was a conspiracy theorist,
Who fell in love with a concert pianist,
But got it into her head
That he was already dead.
Saw no future with a zombie. She's a realist.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Prelude to a Nap - A Haiku



Prelude to a Nap


Ratty recliner.
Old man lowers himself down.
Knees pop. Dog climbs up.

© 2018 by Tom King

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Toward the Light
















Toward the Light

There is a place beyond the pales
Beyond the sight of mortal man.
Within our reach and yet just out
Distances too great for us to span.
One day through space, across time
When we have reached the end of days
We'll rise to meet infinity
And touch tomorrow on the way.

© 2018 by Tom King

Friday, April 13, 2018

Geezerdom












Too little time these days for leisure.
   I thought when I got old, I'd just slow down.
Instead I only shifted to a lower gear.
   My motor's still going as fast as it can.
But it takes twice as long these days.
   To do half as much and the kids?
They've got little patience for us old people
   Grinding along at senior speed,
But here's a secret they forget.
   We've got control of most of the money.
And if they get too saucy with us,
   We'll just spend off their inheritance.

© 2018 by Tom King

Thursday, April 12, 2018

China Clipper
















China Clipper

My little boat with all sails set
   Across my desk goes she,
A clipper on its way to China,
   For a cargo of jasmine tea.
A little world all it's own,
   Cannons run out their ports
To fend off pirates and brigands
   Ships boats resting on their thwarts.

The sheets upon the decks coiled down,
   Neatly as any decent crew would do.
Orderly to facilitate 
   Operation of rudder, line, sail and clew.
A ship of the age of sail; a complex
   Creature of machine, materials and men;
A breath-taking symphony all parts singing
   Across the waves on the howling wind.

© 2018 by Tom King

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Perspective - A Haiku




Perspective

The tadpole just hatched
Looks round and sees the edges
Of his scant puddle.

© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

The Hobbler


The Hobbler


There was an old man from Puyallup,
Whose knees would no longer gallop.
In the sun and the drizzle
He hobbles fo' shizzle
With a cane and pain-killers - a dollop.

© 2018 by Tom King

Monday, April 9, 2018

Railroad Marbles

 















Railroad Marbles

When I was a scruffy kid back in Texas,
   We used to go down to the tracks that led up
To the old fiberglass plant. There was a turn there
   Just before you got to the plant.
The hopper cars were filled with railroad marbles,
   The stuff for making insulation and fiberglass;
The big sheets of pink stuff that makes you itch.
   But we didn’t care about that, there were marbles.
Lying along the right of way where Santa Fe
   Thoughtfully spilled some cargo beside the rails for us,
Some scruffy kids who gathered up glass railroad marbles
   By the sack for their collection jars and marble bags. 

© 2018 by Tom King





.












Sunday, April 8, 2018

My Grandpa Vlad


My Grandpa Vlad

When you get curious about your kin,
   And climb up in your family tree,
You just might find a nut or two,
   A king or a duke or three,

One rainy afternoon I logged onto
   The site of Mormon genealogy.
It didn’t take long before I found
   Kin I only knew from archaeology.

Old King Cole I found among
   The family’s distant upper branches.
Grandpas who lived in castles, some in huts,
   Grandmas in teepees; and some on ranches.

I found St. Arnulf a bonafide patron saint
   When he was dead he proved quite clear
His sainthood by producing for his flock
   A miraculous bottomless keg of beer.

There’s Boadicea the warrior queen,
   And a knight named Halfdan the Old
Grandpa Chuck “The Hammer of the Moors,”
   And Welsh King Conan the Bold.

But when you shake the family tree,
    You sometimes find a jewel,
I shook loose a Moldavian Count
     His name was Vlad Dracul.
     
Yep great grandpa he was Dracula,
    The Impaler. Used to slaughter dozens.
Kind of a shock at first, but then again
   It might explain some distant cousins.

Think I’ll take a break for now,
    From ancestors and searching them out.
So far tonight as I shake the tree,
    Rotten apples keep falling out.

© 2018 by Tom King

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Toward the Sun


Toward the Sun
                    A Haiku


Parallel lines stretch

Away coming together

Approaching the light.


A Haiku
© 2018
by Tom King

Friday, April 6, 2018

If You Could Swing on a Star, Would You?



If You Could Swing on a Star, Would You?

If you could roller skate in a buffalo herd,
   Why on Earth would you want to?
If your chewing gum lost its flavor on the bedpost overnight,
   Why did you leave it there in the first place?
If you got tears in your ears from lying on your back, crying your heart out over me,
   Why in the world would you lie on your back to weep?
If you are your own grandpa,
   Perhaps you shouldn't marry widows who are pretty as could be.
If Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
   Maybe you shouldn't let her go out there all alone in the road?
If there's a dead skunk in the middle of the road,
   Why don't you drive around it?
If you're Henery the 8th you am, Henery the 8th you am, you am,
   Why can't you shut up and behead some wives or something and give us all a break?
If they're coming to take you away ha, ha, to the funny farm where life is always beautiful,
   Do they need directions?
                       ....have them give me a call. I can tell them right where you are!

© 2018 by Tom King

Thursday, April 5, 2018

The Little Man at the Bottom


Can I hold the ladder for you Dad?
I want to stand at the bottom and look up,
And see the steps you’ve taken to get to the aerie heights
Where you conduct your business.

Can I catch the seam of your trousers, Dad?
I want to walk as quickly as you do
With that firm step that says you know
Exactly where you are going.

Will you pick me up Dad?
I’m getting a little tired down here,
And need to rest my head against your chest,
Where it is safe and warm and comforting.

© 2018 by Tom King

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

In the Land of the One-Eyed King



In the land of the one-eyed king,
   The two-eyed man can see the borders clearly.
Depth perception is highly under-rated,
   By a citizenry that is mono-opic and/or the blind.
So, when the ravening hordes pour across
   The nation's boundaries, waving swords and spears
Only those who can perceive the distance
   Feel the threat of what is coming toward us.

© 2018 by Tom King

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Counted Blessings, Uncounted Curses




Counted Blessings, Uncounted Curses

Hardly a day goes by that I
   Don’t try to count a blessing or two
Or three. It’s kind of a race
   I run against discouragement and despair.
Counting a blessing really does work
   Even if that blessing is as simple a thing
As a faucet that works again after an easy repair,
   Or a car that starts the first time you turn the key
When it’s raining cats and dogs and you need it to start,
   Or a something as simple as a banana in winter.
Blessings are everywhere lifting us up
   As effectively as counting up the curses
Makes you bitter, angry, melancholy,
   Less certain about moving forward.
So I call them out one by one by name.
   Even the little goodnesses you seldom think about.
It takes a little effort, staying ahead of despair.
   Counting up the tiny gifts that come our way.
But it’s worth it if it helps you stay ahead
   Of the darkness of the counted curses.

By Tom King
© 2018

Monday, April 2, 2018

Harbingers and Heralds


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harbingers and Heralds


There is a warning that comes before
   The moment when a smile lights up your face.
The touch, of a lover’s hand portending
   In that long breath ahead of an embrace,
An electric harbinger of sweetness coming,
   A neuro-chemical nudge in the tangled space,
Among the billion neurons where the mind,
   Whispers, roars, and rushes on apace;

In the dark behind the eyes, the soul knows,
   Whether by instinct, intuition or wild guesses
When something’s coming down the pike.
   Heart tightens as the mind presses
Strings of emotion, playing like a fiddle,
   In the deep places in the dark recesses
Where we gauge the imminently approaching
   Moment we expected as it softly coalesces.

Then there's that smile...

© 2018 by Tom King

Sunday, April 1, 2018

By Babylon’s Waters

















It seems we all are looking down
   The long road to Babylon these days,
In front of screens flickering.
   Grim images incessantly 
Anticipating the place where we will one day sit
   Heads in hands, humming wistful tunes
That Babylonians would wish for us sing
   In the aftermath of our doom.
Once we’ve crawled from out
   The rubble that must inevitability be
The consequence of civilization’s sins
   And humankind’s lust for zombie apocalypses
And sullen captivity and lots of living dead
   To mete out our punishment.
Down past the breath-taking end
   We know that we will one day sit
In the dust upon the stumps of burned out trees
   We once insisted we were protecting
And we will watch the thick brown waters flow by;
   Waters only God can make run clear again.

© by Tom King