Ago and Other Poems
By
George Enice Lawhon
Published by George Enice Lawhon at Smashwords
Oil Painting by Giles Parish
Book Art & Design by Bette Lawhon
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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© Copyright 2010 George Enice Lawhon
About My Poetry
The poems in this volume were written over a span of years from my early twenties to as recently as this, my 79th year. I make no judgment about them except to say that while some are intentionally lighthearted, made with quick construction, and some with a distinct detail to a strict format, all were given whatever capacity and talent I possessed to create serious work. Some, such as Ago, literally surprised me at first view.
Accordingly, in their turns, life and death and love and hate and laughter and anger and grief and other attributes of the incredible Mystery of Life are visited.
Truth told; I wrote only to please myself, but I do hope you enjoy them. If you weep or laugh or are angry, then the poem was expressed (more or less) correctly. If at least one catches your eye or captures your heart, I will be very pleased.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Little Boy Happy Little Boy Sad
Close Encounter of the Ugly Kind
To Each and Every Me That’s Been
A SONNET TO MY BELOVED
Most men see but a beloved woman’s face and so,
As if the wondrous fact that she exists were not enough, they brood
On what she really is, or was, or could be: this they must know,
And I leave such fools to worry why her many moods.
Requiring reasons why you came to be the way you are
Would be as if to carry on a cold and callous inquiry
Into a sunset’s source, a flower’s furl, or the genus of a star,
And I value not the knowing, but rather mask’ed Mystery.
Heart’s thief you are with Circe’s Song, a winsome, winning liar,
Sufficient in the way you smile, without regards to why:
Why should I ferret out what fuel feeds its inner fire,
When I have its warm reflection to last past that day I die?
No need have I but just to taste your sweet warm woman’s wine,
And of delights that you reveal, not one would I for fools define.
§§§§
THE COLD ONES
When caught up close inside,
Is not of precious nature,
Though not expressed outside?
A frightened soul, a lonely soul,
A waiting soul, all these,
Are those who wait for someone
And the loving act that frees.
So once upon a someday,
Someone, somewhen may start
The frozen eyes to brimming,
For a soul with a loving heart.
§§§§
JOURNEY OF HEARTS
It all began in a driving rain,
When first they met upon a train.
He stood aside to let her in,
Reward was his, a smile, a grin.