I see what you did there...

I usually need a reason to have something to write because my mind is blank 89.3% of the time.
Besides, the poetry I post on here is never mine.
Today isn't any different.
Today I am but observing.
What makes someone want to put their thoughts into words for all to read?

Thoughts.

THOUGHTS are flying inspirations,

Fleeting as the summer's cloud;

Grasp them, hold them, they are precious;

Silent, yet they speak aloud.

For the inspirations lifting

From the soul's deep silvered strand,

Are the fresh and brilliant jewels,

Tokens of the inner man.

Thoughts, like rivers, run to oceans,

The great sea of human lore;

But it first must fall in showers,

On the mead and marsh and moor.

Then refresh the fevered meadows,

Let some dew fall in the night;

If you cannot send the showers,

You can lend your little mite!

Selfish natures cannot broaden,

From without their narrow self;

Wealth you hold within your bosom,

Narrows more and more yourself.

Breathe afar your thoughts of meaning,

Like the dew of Hermon's plain;

"Cast your bread upon the waters;

It will turn to you again!"

James A. DeMoss

Unexpected

Sometimes, in the search for nothing in particular, you find something that hits home. But then again I live under a rock.

Apparently James A. DeMoss was from Kansas and wrote poetry from the mid to late 1800's.

Some beings live from day to day

Without a thought;

Whose solemn moments pass away

And soon forgot.

Each day as but an idle dream

Of little worth;

And to the dormant mind 'twould seem

His life a curse.

It is a fruitless life indeed;

Ah, yes, 'tis worse

Than fruitless, and of little need

E'er to rehearse.

Not only do they bear no fruit

Of value great,

Nor deeds of any good repute

Would fain create,

But worse by far than fruitless toil,

They sink at last

Into despair, a worthless spoil,

Forgotten past.

Ah, sad to see a wasted form

All ghastly lay,

A victim to life's every storm,

A helpless prey.

All damned here by his worthless self,

Ignoble slave;

A victim of his hand bereft,

His trust did wave.

Worthlessness-James A. DeMoss

Sometimes here, but never there

He

...Was always there to lend a hand.

...Always had the words to make you laugh.

...Was surrounded by many and appreciated by few.

...Never fought it and let it win.

...Was taken one day.

.______.

I

...Will always remember the things you taught me.

...Will never forget your laugh.

...Will keep your memory alive.

...Miss you dearly, but mostly

...Wish I were there.