Ghost Song

Poem By William Mendelson

An old man and an old horse moved slowly and steadily
towards the furthest mountain.
An old man on an old horse.
The old man thought of the many times he'd been thrown;
the old horse, how many times he'd been ridden.
They weren't in no great rush.
The old man sat straight in the saddle, head held high.
The old horse kept his head high too,
letting his feet choose the way as they
searched the clouds looking for any old friends
they had passed on the way.
A soft gentle rain started to fall,
the horse stopped, the old man bent over
and stroked his friend's neck

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I Gently Pulled On The Cow's Nipples;

the udder hung heavy and low.
She had carried this painful burden for too long a time,
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Lenore, My Life, My Love

She whistled then hummed my music.
I laughed knowing she is happy.
I knew the music meant little.
It is the response

Ephitaph For A Dreamer

The great Spirit created the sky, the waters, land,
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You know, Bill, forbidden fruit didn't ruin
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