Rise

Can any of us today dare to dream
About living our lives with true passion?
Embodying true greatness, like those past,
Searching within ourselves to find that spark
And pursue our passions with greatest zeal
Regardless of what may stand in our way?
Will we cross our Rubicons, or stand down,
And let opportunity slip away?
Spiting the Senate, or letting them rule?
Ask yourself this question with honesty:
How could you ever truly be happy
Enduring the yoke you could have cast off?
Right now, as you read this, I hope you choose:
Overthrow the Senate of doubt...and rise!

A Memory

It’s the little things I don’t expect,
like the smell of a Dutchman Cigar
that can take me back decades ago
to the river bank beneath the stars.

Your favorite spot you called ‘the Rock’,
where a boulder sat proud and alone,
which we kids would try to climb and sit
 like little fisher kings on our throne.

Mom sat on her blanket and watched us
till the blue-sky gave way to the night
and you lit the kerosene lantern
to keep away our childhood fright.

Relaxed, you’d sit in your fishing chair,
rod and reel in in your self-made holder,
talking to mom while watching us climb
and push each other off the boulder.

Sometimes, when your cigar was half done
You’d give us kids that sideways smirk
and give it a toss, then have a laugh
as you watched us dive into the dirt.

The first time, mom roared, but now resigned
She’d shake her head watching us search
and let the finder take a few puffs,
or finish it off, what could it hurt?

Sometimes we’d fish in almost silence,
told that we would scare the fish away.
But now that I am older, I know,
you just needed some quiet that day.

We’d clear away trash, or gather wood,
to roast some hotdogs, and make some smores,
Then listen as Hank Williams Junior
sing us to sleep on that river shore.

I will never smell a Cigar’s smoke
or hear a Hank Williams Junior’s tune
without thinking back, happy, yet sad
to all of my memories of you.