(1974)
Rewitten many times, same message. Author name: JEF ... James Everett Falcon
What the mind conceives From books and dreams And visions conjured deep in cloud Shall never fetch the love of fait… 'though love shall speak of faith…
In the harbor’s fog the dragon sle… As if drifting through a twilight… And it dreams so deep of another p… To pass the time of endless days. Yet, a kindled fire in an unknown…
Find pardons for them in dim lit h… In the marbled walkways of polishe… Find pardon for them, but not for… That sit in cages, all alone. Gluttony comes by way of want
As the Blue-Moon rises In the monolithic sky It casts reflected light On the dead and the lame. The shadows, thus created,
There once was a Wizard of old (At least, that’s what I’ve been… That could change a something to a… A wolf to a goat or a lake to a mo… From bad --- to very good weather.
In the days of Never-After Came a discontented flurry A mix of thought that lost a lot When given to the worry. Blame was cast upon the wind
Some may say that I am right, Some may say that I am wrong, But what I say in earnest terms Are things that make me strong. I always try to weigh the facts,
I was told, “Get the smallest pla… In the most expensive neighborhood… I saw the advantage in doing that And decided that was good. Then they said, “Be on level grou…
What the mind conceives of books a… And visions conjured deep in cloud Shall never fetch the love of fait… 'though love shall speak of faith… Mystic dreams can melt from parabl…
Two Rocking-chairs kicked Now and then By Summer’s pompous wind Two lemonade glasses Half full
Some say they’re feeling low Others say they’ve got the Blues All I know, there’s a darker plac… No matter what’s the name they use… Well I been low and I’ve been dow…
The melodies within the soul Can accelerate the hours, Songs to God about his love And all His wondrous powers. No foolish thoughts cloud the mind
I Once visited the land of “WAS” Why I did that If memory serves It was just because. It wasn’t a plan for sea and sand
The morning’s Sun peaks From behind black faced skylines That wait to be seen. Then the Rooster crows In hopes of waking others
In Irish tales Of ships and sails And foggy glens With spirits bright There comes a tale