Let’s start with a description of my place, Los Perdidos


It’s my beautiful little place in heaven,’
in acres, it’s less than twenty seven.
Lots of rocks and even gravel,
but not one square foot of it is level.

Cliche here and cedar there,
prickly pear, enough to share.
The essence of cedar elm trees,
with tiny blossoms, that attract the bees.

Live oak trees, and Spanish too,
Mountain Laurel, with flowers so blue.
Flowers here and flowers there,
give off a scent that fills the air.

Grazing the brush are many deer,
they can be approached, they do not fear.
Coons, ‘dillos, and ring tail cats,
and in the evening, darting bats,

Porcupines, and squirrels up a tree,
but they are scared of you and me.
Beautiful Red fox, jack rabbits too,
in fact the place looks like a zoo.

And all the birds too many to count,
on every open place that they mount,
and in the spring it’s here they fly,
filling every spot, of my deep blue sky.

I must not miss the bubbling stream,
cut through the limestone like a dream.
So many fish swim all around,
living their lives without a sound.

I love this place, hill, dell and stream,
to live in peace just like a dream.
And when I die, I want to be,
buried here, under a live oak tree.




I am one of luckiest men in the world,
while others only have had a hit or miss,
I found for me just the right girl.
So let me tell you all about this.

A symbiotic relationship between us you see,
because for all of my negative flaws,
she had positive ones to offer me,
making us an equal balance of laws.

I am somewhat aggressive in nature,
but she calmed me with her love,
however if she needed a protector,
I was there, if push came to shove.

After a hard day at the office you see,
I knew when I arrived at our home,
she would be there to greet me,
calming me, and my worries would be gone.

As for her I felt she was just too kind,
to people who might be aggressive,
in this mean world, you might find,
returning with love, to those most repressive.

As to all our thoughts about our world,
a common opinion to us was had,
we agreed on all the maddening swirl,
loved all the good, but hated bad.

But now her time on earth is done,
and I sit here all alone.
A widowers life is not much fun,
but her portrait lights my lonely home.

Those beautiful eyes seem to follow me around,
a glint tells me she is watching over me,
and before long I will be bound,
where again together we will be.



I have so many poems that I have written about cats but this one must do while I learn to use this site.


Nothing quiet like a tiny kitty,
soft and plump, and full of fun,
kittens are beautiful, funny and witty,
throw a ball, and after it, they will run.

They snuggle up on your lap and purr,
asking to be petted and to be hugged,
brushing or grooming their soft fir,
not many things can get them bugged.

But give them a year or so to grow,
and the fun part always slows down.
Their playing now is not much to show,
mostly they don’t even make a sound.

Except when it’s time to eat,
or their “scratch box” may be full,
then they will show a terrible feat,
to an extent that may be cruel.

They will run around and yell,
and let you know they are the boss,
may even leave a smell,
but mostly they are acting cross.

But when things really go their way,
they will rub against your arm,
and softly purr as if to say,
I didn’t mean any harm.

Just give then a bright sun beam,
or a soft bed to lie upon,
and most of the day they sleep and dream,
of the days when they were fun.



If we could read someone`s mind,
We might not like what we may find,
They may not be saying what they think,
And from the truth, we may shrink.

Unkind thoughts may be lurking there,
Which they may not want to share,
They say what they think we want to hear,
So their thoughts to us are never clear.

Would you chance reading their mind,
For fear of what you may find ?
Handling the truth can be very hard,
and it`s something we can`t discard.