We watch these videos, that, like our attention, are so short

We build up walls of worthless thoughts in our sad lonely fort 

Must we take pause from this destructive path and abort 

Let not this cheap art fill our minds and distort 

But grab a book and transport 

Into a world’s vast and beautiful resort 

—

I wrote this poem after thinking of all the times I have watched short TikTok/Reels like videos or seen others watch them and how consumed we become with these videos. Ever changing topics as we scroll video to video, not really ever giving our minds a chance to go into deep thought. I constantly wonder how they are shaping our brains and what we especially are doing to those who are still developing. I worry what will happen to society as we lose the deep thinkers who attention spans become like wisps .

Ode to you the bountiful tree

You give us the paper to write of the wonders we see

From you we build homes with such glee

You provide shelter for the bird and the bee

Composed of you the first great ships that traversed the sea

Even provide for us a good cup of tea

Truly I do ask, is there anything you can’t be

For of course God did foresee 

The purposeful gift, that he gave us for free 

He saw how much love we’d have for thee

So wouldn’t you agree

At least to some degree

That we must protect you by decrees

My magnificent and ever beautiful dear tree 

—

It will always amaze me how wonderful trees are and the uses we have for them. I love trees, they bring me such happiness to see and be immersed in. As someone who likes to do woodworking, you tend to familiarize yourself with how diverse trees truly are and how many different purposes they all serve.

I wish we did a better job protecting them.

An ode to my beautiful code

Ponder I might as thou compile and load

Is it joy thou dost bode

Will you bring forth such a bountiful treasure like trove

And produce like the abundant fruit of a grove

Or was it in vain that I strove

As I look now at this mess I have wove

—

Just a silly poem I wrote about code.

We spend our lives chasing that dime

Trying to grab ahold of what’s “mine”

Leaving our children, to whine

While losing track of precious time 

When being present for those we love, is the salt that fills life’s brine 

So step out of line

Slow down, and sip the wine 

And know it will be fine

To simply focus on those you hold dear and their dwindling time. 

—

I wrote this poem to remind myself during a very busy time of my life where my job was quite demanding and I had a 1 year old son whom I felt like I barely spent time with due to work. I was reminded that realistically we as fathers only have about 10-12 years to influence our sons before we are no longer their world/hero and start to step out on their own. It is in these precious years we must make sure to set aside the time so we can have an impact on the kind of Man our son will be. The same applies to anyone, Life is about relationships, not money, things, etc. Make sure to spend your limited time with those you love.

People die

And people cry

But is it a lie

As I wonder why

They didn’t even try

To say even the least a goodbye

—

I wrote this poem when witnessing someone a few years ago who was going though the loss of a loved one. I looked upon them and examined the contrast of this person who was in a deep pain and hurting, whom’s actions showed it plainly, while also looking at others in their own family, who also lost this same person, and they too appeared to be in the same pain. However as I got closer to the others, or looked at their actions as death approached and after, their actions didn’t match. So I wrote this poem to ask myself, were their emotions a lie? Or did I just not understand death enough being so young and disconnected from the typical emotional person?

Either way, the act of making sure to say goodbye as thoroughly as possible to those I love and care about when the time comes, became written in pen on my heart.

Day by day is but the quiver of a whisper

Pulled down deep into the bleak drawing dark

Waiting for such a miracle to pluck oneself up as if a twister 

Giving a gasp of breath to finally birth your destined mark

My dad, you taught me the tools

That I couldn’t learn in school

And at the time I didn’t think were cool

But now I know why

You gave everything to try

As without them it is no lie

That I’d never would have gotten by

—

I wrote this poem when thinking about my dad sometime ago, probably shortly after he helped me do something or more specifically learn how to do something. My dad has always been adamant about teaching me how to do may different things, skills that honestly have set me apart from the common man of my age. I look at my peers and wonder why they struggle with so many, what I think are simple tasks, and then I remember my dad, and that I too would be in their shoes if it wasn’t for him.

I love my dad, and even though as a child I probably didn’t always show it. I wrote this poem to remind myself and my dad if he reads it, how much I love him and am thankful for everything he taught me. Also to inspire anyone else who is a dad, take the time to teach your child the ways of God and of man. Do not let them go into this world not knowing how to live life. Even if you weren’t taught how, take the time to learn and break the cycle. It’s never too late.

Riding a bicycle is like a dream

A dream that takes you by storm

With the warm rushing wind blowing though your hair

As you pedal without a care

Freeing yourself from burden of stress

As you coast down hill to decompress 

Riding a bicycle is like a dream

A dream come true

With or without your crew

A great way to renew! 

—

Before I became a parent, I was quite the avid rider for an obese man. I loved riding so much, it lead me to explore new places, improve my health, and let my mind be clear yet flowing with ideas. I wrote this poem to try and capture the euphoric like state I would have on my bike rides. Just reading it again now makes me want to start riding again!

The world isn’t Black and White

If we think it is, then we have already lost the fight

When we no longer reach across the aisle, but instead take flight

It’s like we have gone into the cold dark dreary night 

It is in this time we must stand with our neighbors with all our might

Show our leaders they no longer need to bite

But that owe can go forward together and experience the beautiful light. 

—

I wrote this poem in 2020 while reading and seeing all the political strife that was in my country (USA). It stuck me as so odd that everywhere I turned when reading the media or the things people shared on the internet, all I saw was these boiled down, black and white points that each side of the aisle would build their entire identify on, leaving the details that allow for compromise and working together to the wayside. It hurt me bad, as I knew for a fact, I use to witness say a Democrat and a Republican, who in real life, compromised and worked together with no problem, but as soon as they turned on their TV or logged into their social media, it was like all the color left their souls, they forgot of the beauty of their partnership, and joined their camps as the world was torn apart losing it’s beauty. Losing the hands that would reach out and help one another, losing the ability to just work together towards something greater!