Well, the real reason I started this thing was to start collecting my old poetry and getting put down so that it wouldn't be lost in some forty year old notebook, so I want to put a couple more down today:

Since my last post was on my funeral I will start with a short poem called Death. Catchy title , don't you think.............it was written sometime in the mid seventies, while on duty at the fire station I believe.I just remember working with D. Collins and E. white and joking about the old southern comedian Brother Dave Gardner. One of his lines, ended with 'send his saddle home' , meaning he had died.

Death

His up is time-
His numbers dayed,
His foughts have all been battled.

His dones are journeyed
His lightened loaded,

His sent home has been saddled.