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, February 27, 2015

Mr. Spock Has Beamed Up.



I heard the news today, so sad
About a childhood friend I had
I left the crowd and hung my head
Because I heard that Spock was dead

We met daily, when I got home
And far across the stars we roamed
Logic was his life and way
That so many times had saved the day

Kirk, and I, and Mr. Spock
Explored new worlds at five o’clock
We took an hour to overcome
What some enemy had gone and done

And along the way we learned to live
What to hold to and what to give
And before each episode could end
We remembered the power of having friends

"Live long and prosper", Spock would say
And we departed until another day
At warp factor six through the starry skies
Across the galaxy flew the Enterprise

I dream still of planets, far
And often look up to the stars
I wonder if man will ever go
I wonder if we’ll ever know

The magic of interstellar flight
Through the galaxy’s eternal night
With my friends I have often gone
But too soon we all depart alone

I heard the news today, so sad
About a childhood friend I had
I must admit how I cried
The day they told me Nimoy died.

James Frady

© February 27, 2015

Monday, February 9, 2015

Ghosts I Knew

Ghosts I Knew

I live in a ghost town
Where ghosts of the past
Drift through my memories
A forsaken cast
Of specters and spirits
Of people I've known
They no longer dwell here
They've faded and gone

One was a soldier
Who stood straight and proud
He charged into battle
When the cannons were loud
A hero they called him
A medal they gave
And told of his courage
On the stone by his grave

Then there was Robert
So strong and so tough
Who you wanted on your side
If the going got rough
He went in a swinging
One Saturday night
But a man with a pistol
Ended his fight

A lady of darkness
Who held many men
She teased and she tempted
Again and again
She found out their secrets
She told them her lies
But nobody answered
Her pleas and her cries

They found her by morning
Face down in the waves
They laid her alone
In a cold empty grave
No more her laughter
Tempts or delights
But sometimes I hear her
On dark foggy nights

I knew of a gangster
With money and power
Who cheated and murdered
In the wee dark hours
With a knife or a gun
He was wicked and fast
But one midnight ambush
And he breathed his last

I knew all these people
And yes there were others
Who all walked with swagger
And contempt for their brothers
But they all found the end
Was bitter, not sweet
May the good Lord have mercy
When their maker they meet.

©James L Frady

February 20, 2009

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Another Ode to Coffee, (I Love That Stuff)

Coffee, oh coffee, thou warm and black-hearted drink
How I need thee in the morning, before my brain will start to think.
The gurgle from thy aged pot as water flows through your grounds
Is music for the morning, the sweetest of the early sounds
I like thee strong and black, and scalding boiling hot
I love the steam from a big old mug as I pour you from a pot
That first sip is careful, but your flavor is quite divine
I sip you slow and careful, and savor each drink so fine
Then as the cup begins to cool I drink you as from a fount
Because cold coffee is such a drag, in even a small amount.
When empty cup is sitting there, I'm no longer comatose
But I grab my mug and head for the pot...to get me another dose!

(c) James L. Frady
February 8, 2015