I
have many other interests,
including reading and writing poetry.
I
estimate I have written literally hundreds - if not thousands - of poems in my
lifetime. (When I was stuck on a girl at school, I would write 10-50 a day.)
Most of these have been lost over the years.
A
few of my poems are below.
"My
Daughter" by A.J. Goldsby I.
(Composed for Ailene's Sixth Birthday, December 13th,
2002.)
To
A.J. and Julie a baby was was born,
She came into our lives ... shortly after morn.
Tiny
and red ... yet a true bundle of joy,
I got a girl ... (yet) I thought I wanted a boy.
Brown
eyes and beautiful, like an angel ... in flight;
And all she brings her parents is ... great joy and delight!
(I
wrote this poem - on a birthday card - on my daughter's birthday.)
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I wrote this on the spur of the moment, inspired by the senseless bombing of the U.S.S. Cole.
"The U.S.S. Cole" 10/13/00
(FREE-FORM Poem)
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What is the meaning of life?
I'm so bothered by it all.
The madness of all this strife.
Despair can surely take its toll.
Why is this, what is all this hate?
Black vs. White, do you feel the pall?
Time is fleeting - before its too late,
Don't run the race, make it a stroll;
Slow down and relax, stress is a killer;
This rat race could spell man's doom.
Love is OK, and tolerance a pillar,
Prejudice and blind hate is only death.
The insanity of war; can't anyone understand?
Something has got to give ... and soon!
Spread the word, can you give me a hand?
I'll promote peace ... until my very last breath!
BY - A.J. Goldsby I
(This
poem won several international contests and awards. One was "First
Honorable Mention" {in a monthly contest} from one group.)
Spring
Wednesday; May 03, 2006.
This is the time of the year for rain/flowers, clouds/sun, and … new love.
My wish for you is to have a joyous spring, with spirits soaring skyward … ever higher.
Time of the land’s rebirth … feelings riding on the wings of a dove.
You revel in this moment of time … ‘twould be sad to have never tasted passion’s fire.
By A.J. Goldsby I
Mother’s
Day
A Poem, in honor of my Mom; on her day. - 2006.
******************************************************************
She
carries a new person inside her, and then gives you life,
A
grown man wants his own companion, and so seeks a wife;
Sometimes
forgotten are the little boy’s blues,
The
hugs, the secrets, a friend who is true.
Today
we celebrate our mothers, and this is only right,
For
without this doorway in, we would sleep in eternal night.
The
love and tenderness that only a Mother can show,
Hide
it inside for our children ... nurture it, so it will grow.
Only
then - do we honor a mother’s love, devotion and care,
Passing
it to another generation, the warm feelings we share.
By
A.J. Goldsby I
An
ode to Julie
She
had the most wonderful smile …
I
shivered the first time we kissed …
Her
love ran strong – just like the Nile …
No
one will be so sorely missed.
Her
song runs on, through all her children’s veins …
Material
possessions – on her – simply had no claim …
A
wild horse, until I submitted to her love’s reins …
She
- an elemental force, not even cancer could tame.
Now
she is gone, and my heart still knows the pain …
In
the depths of night, my children awake and ask me why …
My
longing is a stallion that refuses to be tamed …
My
daughters smile, and I see her in their brown eyes.
She
was everything to me that a man could ever ask …
Twelve
years – now – seems too short a span of time …
It
seems that I will never again drink from love’s flask …
All
I can give her is my eternal love – and this rhyme.
- A.J. Goldsby I (March
20th, 2011.)
Bobby Fischer
Fischer was a titan of the sixty-four squares;
He ruled his domain of pieces like a dark king;
Panther pacing his cell of life – the teeth, they are bared;
To him, normal life, nothing – the world’s cruel stings.
In nineteen-seventy-two, you were my hero;
Reigned supreme on top of the world one fateful day;
After nine-eleven you dropped down to zero;
Your rantings … hammer blows, now my world was unmade.
Your chess, like a summer breeze, refreshes my soul;
Your talent was a deep well of genius that shined;
Your moves – spark admiration – the man, he was bold;
The final product on the board … it’s so refined!
Wanderer now, cold halls of Valhalla to roam;
Your smile, your light, oh the things we shall now miss!
The masters of bygone days are calling you home;
No little boy or girl now … no stone ever kissed.
By A.J. Goldsby I
/ Saturday; July 9th, 2011.
  
Copyright (c) {LM} A.J. Goldsby I
Copyright (c) A.J. Goldsby, 19755-2013.
Copyright © A.J. Goldsby, 2014. All rights
reserved.
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