Along with stories, I have for most of my life, enjoyed writing poetry. Some ok, some bad, some terrible, and once in a long while, a winner. You be the judge, and please leave constructive feed back.

Friday, November 30, 2012

The Road Ahead

The Road Ahead

The road that lies ahead is hard and long.
Yet we must persevere to move ahead
No other way remains, the past is gone.

It matters not the places we have gone
It matters not at all what men have said
The road that lies ahead is hard and long

Despair may come and rob us of our song
Though we stumble in the dust and feel half dead
No other way remains, the past is gone.

We must set our courage and like men be strong
Even if fatigue turns our feet and arms to lead
The road that lies ahead is hard and long

No shortcuts marked with signs or cornerstones
We cast aside old maps that we have read
No other way remains, the past is gone.

Victory is the goal that lies ahead
We will win the battle though we dread
The road that lies ahead is hard and long
No other way remains, the past is gone.

© James L Frady
November 30, 2012

Written at work between jobs and breaks.  I love the villanelle form because it is fun and challenging but allows you a lot of liberty in topics.

Midwinter Beech

Midwinter Beech
Shriveled, brown,
Wrinkled and dry,
Shivering at the wind
And a slate gray sky.

The leaves have held,
Though few remain.
Whispering of a life
They can’t regain

Branches nearly bare
Naked and stark
With cold and lifeless
Gray-green bark

The beeches stand
In the forest and wait
Through frozen nights
And bitter days

Soon warm days
Will begin to dawn
Promising spring
Will not be long.

But today the wind
The clouds and rain
Promise only more cold
And bitter pain

©James L. Frady, January 2009

Written during a hunting trip on a cold dreary day when I happened upon a beech tree still clinging to a few remaining shriveled leaves which were shivering in the wind.  

I Wonder Where My Brain Cells Went

I wonder where my brain cells went
When all my energy was spent
When all the work was almost done
And Someone said "are we having fun?"
Did they find some place to hide?
Or are they permanently fried?
Is my brain all shriveled up and dried?
In spite of all the coffee I tried?
Did one by one they all jump ship
Or burn out like a microchip
Did they think it would be hip
If from my head they should skip?
Not a one of them will think
As quickly into a coma I sink
And everything has faded pink
And all my brain cells have no link.
I think I'll end this silly rhyme
Since it's almost quitting time
And it really isn't worth a dime
I hope your day goes really fine


Written at the end of a long night on third shift when my brain was getting slower by the minute.  I was trying to stay awake so I wrote this for my morning report.

Enchanted October

Enchanted October

An enchanted breeze
Blows through the trees
Weaving a magic spell
The morning chill
That lingers still
Carries a wood-smoke smell
An autumn sun
Has just begun
To warm the October day
It’s shining down
Upon the ground
Melting the frost away
The poplar trees
Are losing leaves
Bright yellow, they’re falling down
They whisper goodbye
With a breathy sigh
And float quietly to the ground
The big oaks stand
Stoic and grand
With leaves of burgundy red
Its acorns abound
Which fall to the ground
Where deer and squirrels are fed
Like a fire in the woods
Where trees once stood
The maples burn just as bright
Brilliant gold
To reds so bold
They shine like mid-day lights
Amidst the trees, seen
Are dark ever-greens
Cedar and holly and pine
Whose color remains
All seasons the same
Unchanged by the passing of time
High in the branches
A squirrel takes his chances
Jumping from limb to limb
He climbs up and down
From treetop to ground
Gathering nuts in his den
In treetops, aloft
The breeze blowing soft
Stirs the leaves red, gold, and brown
As slowly they die
And stiffen and dry
Each one will soon fall to the ground
Fall’s magic spell
Comes here to dwell
For just a few October days
Then quickly they’re past
As November comes fast
And blows the enchantment away.

(c) 10/12/2005
James L. Frady

Written in a Lonely Place


(a villanelle)

There is no voice I hear
All the world is quiet
There is no one near

No prophet, sage, or seer
To lighten darkest night
There is no voice I hear

No enemy to fear
Or justify the fright
There is no one near

No lover lying near
To make me feel alright
There is no voice I hear

In silence falls a tear
Lonely in its flight
There is no one near

There is no one to hear
No soul in farthest sight
There is no voice I hear
There is no one near.

©2005 James L Frady