Big River
Silently but so swiftly she flows along
In deep murky water her secrets hide
When the weather is rainy and stormy
Debris on her wavey expanse will ride
As a boat pushes the cargo upstream
Her captain always keeps a wary eye
Taking care to ride out the rough wake
Of any other boats that are passing by
She winds around like a giant serpent
Slithering as she passes a sharp bend
Onward she continues on her long trip
Not knowing when this journey will end
As she goes past both city and country
There will be so many miles she did go
Southbound goes the mighty Mississippi
Until her trip ends at the Gulf of Mexico
Winds Of Time
Winds of time wait for none
We all age some every day
Not knowing when it is time
That we will be called away
Brought into this old world
Having nothing but a name
No one is treated different
Every body gets the same
What you do with your life
Will be left entirely to you
There is no one to force you
Into the things that you do
Having faith in the Creator
Must ever be in your mind
Just give to Him your heart
Heaven you then will find
My Cabin
So peaceful it is here in the mountains
There is a chill in the Autumn air today
Trees are donned with the finest colors
Mother Nature gives a dazzling display
I see snow on the high mountain peaks
Giving a preview of what winter will bring
Soon I will be marooned in my old cabin
Stranded here until the warmth of spring
I have stacks of wood to keep me warm
Cut and dried back in the summertime
With plenty of venison and fish to eat
Living here this winter wont cost a dime
I love living here in the quiet wilderness
No hustle and bustle of the city do I see
Daily I give thanks to my Lord and Savior
He gives me a life the way I want it to be
Wild West Siders
Them two fellers wuz wild West Siders
Tony and Zeb I knowed them old boys
The wud go up to Peach Orchard hill
Up thar they road them for wheel toys
Old Tony he misflickered on hiss toy
Up thar wuz this big White Oak tree
He comed lickty split down the hill
So fast that tree he jest didn't see
Kersplat he dun hit that White Oak
We seed for wheels runnin away
One of them lit over on Custus St
Other three we aint seed to this day
We reckon Tony stayed off that hill
Zeb sayd hit aint much fun no more
Since the day Tony hit the Oak Tree
He sez that his backside is still sore
Jack Frost Is Here
Jack Frost has painted the landscape
A heavy coating he put on last night
Tracing his icy fingers on everything
Turning all the outside a frosty white
With quiet dispatch he has done it
With us hearing not a single thing
Seemingly without effort he works
Daylight shows what he did bring
Putting a white cap on a pumpkin
His paint makes leaves turn bright
Turning the green leaves to colors
Making them a spectacular sight
Old Jack has a different side too
His touch is not very kind to some
Killing most of the tender flowers
Leaving us only the beautiful Mum
Beauty Of The Trees
On a bright early Sunday morning
I see so much beauty in these hills
Fascination with all of these colors
This picture of perfection that it fills
A tree that has both red and green
Caught my eye while driving today
Beautiful is what it must be called
It can't be described in another way
Patchwork of many different colors
Comes from all of the growing trees
What a spectacular scene we have
To all the eager eyes it will please
Looking out over this vast forest
Makes me wonder not how or why
For I know the answer my friend
It came for Someone up on high
An Autumn Sunday
Walking along an old wooded path
Brilliant colored leaves we can see
Multicolored throughout the forest
Red or Yellow from the Maple tree
Below I see that meandering river
Reflecting the brillance of the sun
Casting shafts of light on skyward
Endlessly that light seems to run
A tugboat is moving on that river
Slowly it will move on up stream
Picturesque is this setting today
Like something seen in a dream
It has been so beautiful this day
One which we hate to see it end
Seeing all the wonders of today
How everything seems to blend
My Friend Megy
I so miss those beautiful paintings
A nice lady named Megy sent to me
I would write a poem about each one
Words of the visions that I did see
So easy it was to find all the words
To describe what she would paint
She is a wizard at mixing the tints
Some colors are deep, some faint
Inspiration the paintings gave to me
In return poetic words I would send
Looking to find the right ones to use
Ever trying to make the words blend
This wonderful lady has an illness
That prevents her from painting now
With our prayers and determination
She will soon be painting somehow
Indian Chief
He walked on the wings of the wind
Silently and without effort he goes
Never been seen by a modern man
Yet many stories of him still grows
He roamed the hills of Appalachia
Sometimes he was an angry man
Warrior of the greatest magnitude
Never fighting without a great plan
He lived his life and never let fear
Of death enter into his brave heart
A happy hunting ground was his
When from Earth he would depart
Made a General in the British Army
Not long in uniform did they see
This brave Shawnee Indian Chief
We know him today as Tecumseh
An Old Artist
With aged unsteady hand he writes
He knows that the magic is still there
Thinking back to all those road shows
When they played his songs on the air
He still thinks his voice is still young
As it was those many years long ago
But time eroded those fine melodies
Those list of hits he has will not grow
Yet he knows there is one more song
Like some of the ones he once wrote
With all the words flowing so sweetly
His band carefully playing each note
No recording company will talk to him
He is another has been from the past
One wanting get back to the big time
Not knowing their fame does not last
copyright © 2005 By Acie