I love the way the smile appears on your face
It is something no one can replace
You are truly something that is very rare
And the different ways you show you care
I love the way you make me feel
And how when I’m hurt inside you help me heal.
You're always by my side
And that is why I have nothing left to hide
You are something special that I have found
And you don’t even have to make a sound
It’s just your presence that is felt
Which is what makes my heart melt

One little word
Has so much power
But can be said
With an object
As gentle as a flower
It gives the heart comfort
And can also be shared
One thing for sure
It's a powerful thing
It connects two hearts
Or can fix a broken wing
How can one little word
Be such a powerful thing

We celebrate our freedom from torment and strife,
We are thankful for our rights in this life.
But we need to give thanks to God, he’s #1,
He gave more than all the others, He gave His only Son.
So we could have the ultimate thing in this world,
He was the one that set free every boy and girl.
So when you look up to see the bombs bursting with light,
Be sure to thank God for giving our souls flight.
Without Him we would be alone,
And we would not have this earth to call home.

Because of you
my world is now whole,
Because of you
love lives in my soul.
Because of you
I have laughter in my eyes,
Because of you
I am no longer afraid of good-byes.
You are my pillar
my stone of strength,
With me through all seasons
and great times of length.
My love for you is pure
boundless through space and time,
it grows stronger everyday
with the knowledge that you'll always be mine.
At the altar
I will joyously say 'I do',
for I have it all now
and it's all because of you.

The mare Alix breaks the world’s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads together over stopwatches, and call to the grand stand a split second is clipped off the old world’s record and a new world’s record fixed.

I see the mare Alix led away by men in undershirts and streaked faces. Dripping Alix in foam of white on the harness and shafts. And the men in undershirts kiss her ears and rub her nose, and tie blankets on her, and take her away to have the sweat sponged.

I see the grand stand jammed with prairie people yelling themselves hoarse. Almost the grand stand and the crowd of thousands are one pair of legs and one voice standing up and yelling hurrah.

I see the driver of Alix and the owner smothered in a fury of handshakes, a mob of caresses. I see the wives of the driver and owner smothered in a crush of white summer dresses and parasols.

Hours later, at sundown, gray dew creeping on the sod and sheds, I see Alix again:
Dark, shining-velvet Alix,
Night-sky Alix in a gray blanket,
Led back and forth by a nigger.
Velvet and night-eyed Alix
With slim legs of steel.

And I want to rub my nose against the nose of the mare Alix

The mouth of this man is a gaunt strong mouth.
The head of this man is a gaunt strong head.

The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians.
The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans,
Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown.
The neck of this man is pith of buffalo prairie, old longing and new beckoning of corn belt or cotton belt,
Either a proud Sequoia trunk of the wilderness
Or huddling lumber of a sawmill waiting to be a roof.

Brother mystery to man and mob mystery,
Brother cryptic to lifted cryptic hands,
He is night and abyss, he is white sky of sun, he is the head of the people.
The heart of him the red drops of the people,
The wish of him the steady gray-eagle crag-hunting flights of the people.

Humble dust of a wheel-worn road,
Slashed sod under the iron-shining plow,
These of service in him, these and many cities, many borders, many wrangles between Alaska and the Isthmus, between the Isthmus and the Horn, and east and west of Omaha, and east and west of Paris, Berlin, Petrograd.
The blood in his right wrist and the blood in his left wrist run with the right wrist wisdom of the many and the left wrist wisdom of the many.
It is the many he knows, the gaunt strong hunger of the many

Wedding Poems