A Collection Of Poetry 2j6dz

A Collection of Poetry

Jerry Gray

Copyright © 2020 Jerry Gray All rights reserved First Edition PAGE PUBLISHING, INC. Conneaut Lake, PA First originally published by Page Publishing 2020 ISBN 978-1-6624-2422-9 (pbk) ISBN 978-1-6624-2423-6 (digital) Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Night I Caught St. Nick My Best Christmas Present Childhood Days England’s Man God’s Gift (A Rainbow) In God We Trust Sgt. Alvin C. York A New Beginning My Hope My Love My Wife When ing Silence Sniper Southland The Sportsman Who Couldn’t What’s Next?

Women of Gettysburg Through Freddie’s Eyes

The Night I Caught St. Nick

Christmas comes, but once each year, St. Nick with toys and all his reindeer, There’ll be laughter and joy throughout the day. “I ate too much,” some will say.

The day before Christmas, I thought I would bust, But Mom and Dad said to sleep I must, And, “St. Nick won’t come if you are awake, So be good tonight, for goodness sake.”

I fought the sandman most of the night, But proof of St. Nick is my plight. After hiding a camera and with stealth care, I’ll soon have a picture to show he was there.

From the rooftop, I heard a soft pitter-patter, I’m sure the milk and cookies will soon leave this platter. My heart was pounding almost through my chest,

St. Nick will have to know I’ve been my best.

Then I hear laughter and a jingle bell, With a ho ho ho we all know well. While Rudolph stands by to guide his flight, Down the chimney, he came in from the night.

I grabbed the camera just that quick, I knew in a flash I had caught St. Nick. He hung stockings and mistletoe for all to see, With presents and candies all around the tree.

I got the pictures and that’s no spoof, For in my hand, I have the proof. With a big broad smile and a wink from his eye, Up the chimney, he flew up in the sky.

Then, I noticed a note on our Christmas tree. A message to all and addressed to me: “ the ones who taught you to care. The presents you get are meant to share.

So on the reason of Christmas each year. Love your family and friends who are so dear.” With love, St. Nick.

(PS: Merry Christmas to all, and this I say, “ whose birthday we celebrate today.”)

My Best Christmas Present

Christmas 2009

So many years of unfulfilled pleasure, Only seldom moments to treasure. A world of despair, But now you are there, What would I do If not for you?

My heart was so sad, My heart’s now glad. I want no more tears, And if I live one hundred years, I still would be so blue, If not for you.

Because the goodness you bring Make the robins sing,

I believe doves would not coo. My precious wife, if not for you.

You bring meaning to the season of thought, And the joy our family we sought. “You’re my Christmas present each day.” Words I could never to say, If were not for you.

Your loving husband, Jerry

December 31, 2020

Childhood Days

Oh, to relive childhood wishes Of simple dreams and mud-pie dishes. To let one’s mind take you away With grand castles to play all day.

Feeling the joys with those around, Hiding and seeking without a sound. Playing Robin Hood and giving the poor, Never fearing what lay in store.

Sometimes I’d be a king; sometimes a shining knight, Swinging a wooden sword with a sudden storm’s might, Trading shining rocks as though they were gold, Building castles in the sand from a cookie mold, And trying to catch Santa in his yearly flight, With the family around me on a moonlit night.

A happy life of trust and care,

A mother’s teaching of values to share. The time had ed I called my own Were the greatest moments I’ve ever known.

Now as the autumn of my life nears, I still feel the warmth of those young years. It brings a glow to my heart, Though there’ll be no new start. Oh, to play as I once played, To think as I once thought.

May 26, 1982

England’s Man

Dear Brian, where have you gone? Oh, Brian, what have you done? The pain, tears, and sorrow Are all that’s left.

The eyes that danced, The devilish smile, The man, All memories of the ones that care.

As a worker, none compared. Man of men, none dared. Charismatic style—a voice so clear. A hearty laugh—a jar of beer.

Love of country was his cry, Never, never would he say goodbye. First to stand for the union jack,

A flag he loved and always backed.

He stood with pride, it would seem, To shout the words, “God save the queen!”

What went awry? Was it the taste of the wine? Was it the forbidden shore? Is love of homeland forever no more?

Now the eyes have lost their sparkle, The glow has left the cheeks, The voice of home calls, “Come back! All is forgiven!”

May 26, 1982

God’s Gift (A Rainbow)

Beauty that gently fades, It bends, it blends, So sure, so pure, Dares to thrill with silent trust.

Peace within, Colors from God, No pot of gold, Just joy to all, While looking down for us to view.

Is tomorrow needed? Questions abound, Wayward thoughts dispel This trance of vision.

Today, I saw an old man’s tear,

I saw a child’s glee, I saw a rainbow in the sky.

In God We Trust

The stars and stripes are for all to see, It stands for freedom, for you and me. Many battles left it tattered and torn, Thrown down by some—ridiculed and scorned.

This empathy feeling while ignoring facts, Lead us not, and corruption smacks. To save this nation, in God we trust, Means following our constitution, a certain must.

These restrictions of freedom are veiled and masked, Our eyes are not seeing the glory of past. So let not fatigue stop our battle cry, Or our forefather’s words will surely die.

From challenging wars throughout our history Came greatness in men of mystic mystery. Many met their end as mothers cried.

We’re grateful to God; some heroes survived.

Patrick Henry, George Washington, and on down the line, Our history’s heroes have been one of a kind. Sgt. York, Audie Murphy, and others too Fought for our flag with a patriot’s view.

And of heroes not known and came home not, Many died alone in some far away spot. So when our flag is flying, how proud we should be? Stand up for these men, who aren’t here to see.

August 4, 2009

Sgt. Alvin C. York

Congressional Medal of Honor Winner

He lived in the valley of the Three Forks of the Wolf over in Tennessee. He fought for his country; he fought for you, he fought for me. He went to war in the trenches of . Under murderous fires, it seemed he hadn’t a chance.

The machine guns were blazing—all around, men fell. With a single rifle, he walked into hell. He moved like a deer as the bullets rained down. What price glory would be paid for this ground?

What would it be like to see hell up close? Would you be like Alvin, or would you see your own ghost? But he did what he thought should be done To fight for America, to face the gun.

He came home humbler—though praised, Grateful to a mother for the way he was raised. He had no desire to live by the gun or the sword,

He much rather lead you to the house of the Lord.

Honored by countries and statesmen, for valor above and beyond, I felt at this gravesite. I was on hallowed ground, Watching our flag ripple in the breeze. If all men were like this, our mind would be at ease.

Now he rests with God by the big white stone. With his wife beside him, they will never be alone. Near a small white church in which he would preach. “Love God, country, and family” are words he would teach.

Never had man accomplished such a feat. His courage and purpose could never be beat. The principles and values owned by this man Should not fade away… Do you understand?¹

¹ Sometimes it is prudent to look back. Let us not forget our heroes of the past, their characters, valor, purpose—and in Sergeant York’s case—grace. This man was truly larger than life. As you read this and realize what he did for our country and how he lived his life, look at this picture. Look in his eye.

Give him a thumbs-up and then look to the sky.

A New Beginning

As I reflect back in time, My bad behavior comes to mind. All my problems of the daily grind Because of not trusting that you were mine.

Mistake after mistake, more than a few. I should have known that there was you. My Lord and Savior, forgive me now That I might change and learn to bow.

Finding ways to serve will be my goal, Knowing it will have to come from within my soul. Doing good deeds for me is a start, The Lord will know if it is from my heart.

May I live to tell as life goes by. The answer all comes from you on high. Let me be the rolling stone, gathering no moss,

I now surrender, my Lord, to the cross.

June 4, 2009

My Hope

As I gaze into your eyes, I’m troubled by what I see. With your flawed logic and filtered words, Is our love meant to be?

What am I to think today? Many questions come to mind. Will I be able to walk proudly? Or am I so very blind?

And if I fell while walking, Would your arms reach out for me? Would you come forth to help? Or turn as not to see?

Would not that hurt Show upon my face? Wouldn’t you comfort me then?

To show me loving grace.

I need words of caring, Please whisper them to me. Tell me our love Could forever be.

Then cut it into stone, Heartfelt words before I’m gone. Our sleeping times forever, For whoever could sing our song.

The one thing I live for Is to share my prayer, To come someday with open arms, To show how much you care.

July 31, 2009

My Love

You say I am fat, ugly, and old, That’s no reason to be cold. You make fun of my looks and criticize my style, Think all is forgiven with just a smile.

There was a time when that all was true, When my days and night were filled with you. But the time has changes when a smile is enough, I’m no longer willing to take your guff.

Words of kindness would stick in my throat As you sat at the table and ate like a goat. Plunging forward like a moose in heat, Elbowing our neighbors and stomping your feet.

Now you are chuckling and having a laugh, You are working up a sweat; you will need a bath. For you remind me of a barge,

Flat and ugly and very large.

All these years you whimpered and moaned, Thinking I had no mind of my own. But the age of time has taken its toll, In short, my love, you look like a troll.

For I was handsome in my prime, Not so long ago was my time. Now let me say a thing or two, For time has not been kind to you.

My darling, my sweet dear, You are the one with the shape of a beer. You think you are so smart and so cunning, Hell, you don’t even know when your nose is running.

Now time has come for an extended breather, So let’s part company and blame neither. The romance has gone, and I don’t care, ’Tis no fun to love a bear.

My Wife

My wife, I met not long ago, Has a heart as pure as falling snow. With a sense of humor that is one of a kind, Keeps all in laughter—well, most of the time.

Her ways are different but with grace and style, Makes all feel good with just a smile. Of family and friends, she cares so much, Praying and nurturing with that tender touch.

Her life is not easy; we all know well, But with a faith so strong, it’s hard to tell. We fit together like a hand and glove, Our souls are together with ion and love.

The kind words said to so many, Caring thoughts and deeds of plenty. Always for other, she shows the way,

Leading by example day after day.

This woman, this lady, I am so proud to know, A life of protecting is the least I owe. My solemn vow ’til life is through, My heart, my soul belongs to you.

Love, Jerry

May 8, 2009

When

the love we thought we knew, My dreams of future all with you. Those sweet memories seem so far away, If only we could bring back yesterday.

The things we did when we were young, Burned moments in time with memories of love. And all those memories of days gone by Still brings warmth and a heavy sigh.

Because the goodness you bring Make the robins sing. I believe doves would not coo, My precious love, if not for you.

And all the good intentions we thought would be, Please don’t regret a life because of me. I plead don’t think or ever say

Your heart’s now broken because of yesterday.

It hurts me so to know You don’t love me like before. I long our sweet memories Return to yesterday.

It seems the farther I look back, The further forward I can see. I wish everything from this moment on Be new for you and for me.

ing

My days have been so long, ing since you’ve gone. Our time of loving had flown so fast, Those precious moments did not last.

You taught me much, my love, Patience and caring with the heart of a dove. For two to be one and always care Meant giving and taking and learning to share.

Your lips spoke softly, and your cheeks did glow. A woman, a lady, I was proud to know. The time we had and called our own Were the greatest moments I’ve ever known.

God has taken you from my side. Now lonely, time is mine to abide. Since the fate that took you away,

Each night, as I kneel to pray, That I the life of two that were one.

June 14, 1982

Silence

Dead silence is killing, Not even a rare sound is heard. Surrounded by daunting suspense with fear, What place is this? Could I be in silent stare? What would be if a sound does come? Joy? Silence is all I hear. Does this speak to my dross of past? With mounting anxiety, I question, “Am I deaf or dead?” Then a faint rooster crow. Mind tricks? Have I awoken? Then dead silence again.

Sniper

Will anyone know I’m here? As I stealth in this land, Will I sight and kill today?

I make no sound, I break no sticks, But do they see me?

Does camouflage know no danger? Or am I naked? In silence, I wonder.

Is romantic pall creeping within? Even enchantment, No, hell, no! I’m savagery.

Feeling as I lit candle Before the storm,

What’s my purpose?

But I walk new ground With no return, I hunt mindfully and cautiously.

Can I not make a mistake? How would that end? Not good, not good at all.

Oh family will say, “He was a good lad,” Until they all say it.

Home thoughts reoccur, Can’t think too much. Oh, no, The enemy may hear my thoughts.

I made a kill three days ago, Did it matter? There I go, wondering again.

Do I like what I do? No, not really, But there is the thrill.

Maybe I should write a diary To tell my stealth story, But who could hear to see it?

I don’t have a girlfriend, I wonder who would want me now When I don’t want me now.

My friend, Jack, protects me. Oh, he’s not really here, But he laughs at my jokes.

I have no jokes left, Told them all. I don’t laugh anymore.

I wonder about Jack. He was shot you know. I wonder if I wonder too much?

Oh! Heard a leaf crushed. Something moved. What was it? Light rays from above, or worse.

Time to stop wondering, Time to do what I do: Sight my next kill while I last.

Southland

Oh, Southland, though I’ve left, I’m yours still. For love of this land no other could fill. Where I’m not, I am home, Nothing else and all alone.

I’m so tired of it all, of places I’ve been, Of sidewalks and streetlights and places of sin. Polite words that are said with contempt, While my money flows until it is spent.

Memories of home are to me so clear, A magnolia tree—a slow-running brook are all so dear. And as a soft summer’s rainbow spans the sky, It brings chilling warmth and heavy sigh.

My growing up years, I with bliss, Of family and friends, the loved ones I miss. Proud people who always stood for the flag,

They sang of America—unashamed to brag.

It’s my love story of gentle people, A sleepy town with a tall church steeple. And when laid to rest under a mound of earth, Let it be land I love and place of my birth.

It’s time to return and to say I do, To southern soil, the only love I knew. I’m coming home, I’ll find a way, Never to run again or ever stray.

The Sportsman Who Couldn’t

As I look over the course, I judge its scale, Today is the day that I’ll prevail. Driver in hand, I’ll challenge number one, A low score I know I will be its sum.

Who says this game takes much skill, Why it’s no harder than taking a pill? I’ll pound it and pound it—down the fairway, I’ll come, People will marvel at what I’ve become.

A little trouble started on my first swing, Had to be the wind or some other thing. But I played on and on because I know I will be the best, I doubt if this course will be a true test.

It must have been the sun or the equipment I had, It can’t be my fault to have a day this bad. The damn sand traps were wide and deep,

Not to mention they were awful steep.

The holes grew longer with each stroke I took, After playing the front, I could write a book. This tricky course was making me weak, When asked, “How did you do?” I couldn’t speak.

My perfect swing has come not yet, I need to practice before I bet. The sun has set in more way than one, Time to grab the bag and homeward run.

Since my hole in one has slipped away, Time to change the game to the Chesapeake Bay. With rod and reel, a new challenge I see, A champion in fishing I’m sure I’ll be.

What’s Next?

Some villainize patriotism, trying to be cool, But it is from an ignorant mind—the mind of a fool. But here we are, our values seem lost. In a challenging time, is it worth the cost?

So many have changed; their numbers have grown, Of misguided values, with motives unknown. And round the world as dictators laugh, Apologies are made on America’s behalf.

This sleeping giant in which we live Seems pulling apart. How much can it give? Their slanted facts to make a point and voices bar advance, Can we hope for tomorrow? Can we take that chance?

What’s happened to men who stood for the flag? Shouted, “Hurray for America!” unashamed to brag. Because a time will come when hells to be paid,

From our America, the beautiful, our forefathers made.

But to blindly follow and question not Yields no tomorrow and hope may stop. So see the evil behind the mask And pray to God this time will past.

Women of Gettysburg

They saw the experienced, the horror in many men’s face, Brutally beyond imagination, with absence of grace. Some gathering together before they were to die, Later be still with their face to the sky.

Tillie Pierce and Elizabeth Thorn witnessed the bloody and swollen As burial wagons parading the dead kept rolling. Seeing the carnage was silence of cheers, They showed bravery with eyes filled with tears.

And mother of those who made and defended Picket’s charge Comes haunting dreams that loom so large. Men cumbered with the load to kill, All for the sake of taking a hill.

Their baptism given in sweat and blood, Dying in unfamiliar fields of rocks and mud. Caught up in a time they had not sought,

Just pursuit of honor with no glory of thought.

Women in Gettysburg, Antemun, and the Bull Runs Saw men fight of their belief as they fired their guns. Many dying slowly where they fell, Their cries of pain had been their hell.

Instant nurses like Sally Myers and Georgeanna Woolsly gave their best To meet the challenges of comion in this unbelieving test. Wounded, broken bodies lie on church pews’ chest high, Soon to be “the beloved dead,” where they lie.

While the madness of battle continually raises its head, Only a few words of praise follow, for its dead. These youthful men who took their last breath Showed courage stronger than any gale, except death.

As nurses gave their hearts to the dying and dead, In the soldiers’ final moments, always kind words were said. These brave American women who were left with scars Gave body and soul for their stars and bars.

Through Freddie’s Eyes

(Does Anyone ?)

While I sit here, listening to the cheers, I think of a time of gone by years. When cheers were silent and smiles were few, It was our time to glory we never knew.

Our mothers of past sheltered to protect, Cried, “North to safety, to hell with respect!” But we did for you what we had to do, For God and flag—our red, white, and blue.

The jungles claimed many a last breath, From fighting young men who met their death. In a hellish time of love and hate, In a desolate spot, men met their fate.

And coming home wasn’t so grand,

The taunting and cursing we couldn’t understand. It was another time, but home was this place, It brought pain and anguish to each soldier’s face.

Now our burden has gone, but memories are clear Of soldiers who ed and who died without fear. Make room, brave soldier, for my time is near, Our guns are now silent and few left to cheer.

But when sacrifice comes, and duty does call, Will you stand for the flag and men who gave all? May we never go back, but well Of a time and place we all called hell.

It was many men’s December, Does anyone ?

(Dedicated to Fredrick “Freddie” Alexander, Vietnam veteran, and all who gave so much.)

About the Author

Bio told to Greg Rowles—TV host for Fox WFXB, star for the Alabama Theater here in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, also a member of South Carolina’s Entertainment and Music Hall of Fame, and winner of Ed McMahon’s TV show Star Search in the midnineties: Jerry’s first memories of life were of Randolph street, Newton movie theater, streetcars, and nice people in Northeast Washington, DC, in an area called Brookland. Later moving to Alexandria, Virginia, for the rest of his upbringing. After high school and many technical courses, he ed the US Army, serving as a paratrooper in the Eighty-Second Airborne and was stationed in Osburg, , and Beruit, Lebanon. It happened to be the same division as Sgt. Alvin C. York, a WWI war hero. After writing a poem about him, which is now showcased at the York museum in Pall Mall, Tennessee, a few years later, we collaborated and recorded the Sgt. York song now on YouTube. His poetry began as a hobby in the early eighties while in the restaurant Business. After reading several beautiful poems written by an employee of his, by the name of Sharon N. Winkler of Hollywood, Maryland, her poetry inspired to writing himself. He thanks Sharon. “Thank you, Sharon.” After placing the composition in his archives, he pretty much forgotten them until Gregg encouraged him to record them for family and friends for prosperity. Moving on after the military, he became director of engineering for a major hotel chain in Washington, DC, Northern Virginia, and Denver, Colorado. He’s now residing and loving it in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Jerry’s family consists of one beautiful daughter, Jill; her lovely mother, Janet; his incredible son-in-law, Paul; his two precious grandchildren, Faithe and Sean; plus his adoring sister, Carole—all of whom reside in Virginia. The reason he mentions family and friends are because they are the ones he loves and whom have unconditionally loved him back. He thanks God for giving him a good life and thanks you for reading this book.