Poem: Battles

Battles

The battle rages fiercely.
Defeat is countlessly imminent;
Yet there is fight,
A search for a plan of defense.
Setbacks build layers of despair
Buried under ever-mounting obstacles.

Each scar or cut grows,
Within the mind moreso than about.
Fear overwhelms where strength once blossomed,
Yet forward visions yield wants;
Dreams of better days bring life.

Another day passes with tears and belief;
Mixed incongruities of the battle.
The soul is the stake to claim.
Each next moment is an unending answer;
To quit or battle on.

Copyright SGW 1999

Poem: I'm An Accountant

Yes, I am an accountant, but this poem is not auto-biographical. It is based on outside auditors who came in to the office I worked in at the time. It is meant less to be mean, and more to have some fun with the stereotypes.

Oh, and I should mention that this poem has gotten me job offers.

Don't kill me; at 25 I did not like classical music, but do now. Plus there's nothing wrong with McNeill-Lehrer. Youth!

I’m an Accountant

Hey look at the dork
In the suit and the tie,
With the black rimmed glasses.
Who is that guy?

He’s got pens in his shirt pocket;
Hair cut short and so neat;
Always clean shaven;
Black shoes on his feet.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

He stays late every evening,
But so loves to work.
Ask him to party,
He thinks you’re a jerk.

He says, “How can you go out,
With a job still undone?
Who needs a social life?
Accounting’s such fun.”

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

The last time he dated
The girl fell asleep.
Fun’s watching McNeill-Lehrer;
He thinks it’s so deep.

Doesn’t own cable television.
He thinks it’s a bore.
And he won’t listen to rock.
He likes classical more.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

So look at him walking;
Clumsy and slow.
He’s a drip top to bottom;
From head down to toe.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

Copyright SGW 1989

The West Wing

Cynics would call it fantasy and liberal hogwash. I would say it is what we are, yes ARE, capable of. President Bartlett had flaws, as did the people who worked under him on NBC's "The West Wing." The show had failings, too; namely most of the last 2 1/2 years until its revitalization over the past month or so. But "The West Wing" was still a great show and a reminder to us all.

Ultimately, President Bartlett represented our better selves. His administration was America as Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton, Franklin, and others imagined it - striving to do what was best, basically noble intentioned and a home for freedom and justice.

Call me hokey and remind me that it was only television. Maybe. But in the face of the worst of what we can be governing us today in the real world, a seven year glimpse of the best of who might be was a place I will always want to look in upon.

Poem: River

River

River flows gently with quiet resolve
Life's many hardships in time may dissolve
Softly the tides of the water bring ease
Silently drifting 'neath firm-standing trees
Washed in the current that cleanses the skin
Spirit finds healing without and within
Calming sensations surrounded in bliss
Safety and comfort of God's loving kiss
Unwittingly restful, pains wash away
Here, in the river, where hearts hope to stay

Copyright SGW 2006