JESUS AND THE STARS

Poetry

By Richard E. Noble

No Honey, I don’t write poems about Jesus and the stars.
I write more about concrete curbings and secondhand cars.
No Hun, I don’t write poems about Jesus and the stars.

I sing my songs about taverns and dimly lit bars.
I wonder about the planets, Serius and Mars,
but I do my singing about people, railroad tracks and iron bars.

No Hun, I no longer write about Jesus and the stars.
Though I often whisper my secrets to empty planets, rainbows
and distant stars,
I write more about home cooking, pony tails, pretty girls and mason jars.

But, no Hon, I no longer write my poems about Jesus and the stars.
Though we used to speak, and I’ve often gone to sleep hugging
Venus, Jupiter and Mars;
no Hun, today I don’t write poems about Jesus and the stars.

No, I don’t write poems about Jesus and the stars.
I write about love, and kindness, but more often, about things the way they are.
No, sweetheart, I no longer write poems about Jesus and the stars.

Though for me, it’s now a mist of cosmic dust and Milky Way,
I know for you, if you try really, really hard, one day,
you’ll be writing beautiful things about Jesus and the Stars
And Heaven, and the Angels, and Jesus and the Stars.
I know you can, and I’ll bet you will, one day,
be writing about the Lord up above,
and all the meanings of love.

I know you can, and I’ll bet you will, one day,
be writing songs about Jesus and the stars,
about moonbeams and Heaven’s golden bars,
about love,
and Jesus,
All about Jesus and the stars.

Yes, you’ll be singing about Jesus and the Stars,
about Jupiter and Mars,
about the Angels and Heaven,
and Jesus and the Stars.

When You live Your Life by the Side of the Road

Poetry

By Richard E. Noble

When you live your life by the side of the road,
you always know which way the traffic flows.

When you live your life by the side of the road,
you see their faces but not their toes.

You might catch a glint, a gleam, or a sparkle;
you might even think that you know who they are.

But when you live your life by the side of the road,
what you really know is which way the traffic goes.

You will see them talking and laughing inside,
and maybe children bouncing about on a back seat.

You see the mustaches, the braids, the balding heads.
You see them staring, lost in thought.

But from the side of the road, you can’t see their toes,
and all you know really, is which way the traffic flows.

From the side of the road you can watch the race;
you can dodge through the traffic when you know that it’s safe.

From the side of the road you don’t need a car;
you can walk on the shoulder or follow a star.

You can watch the lights and read the signs.
You can walk or don’t walk.

You can sleep under a bridge;
you can make your own mind.

But from the side of the road you can’t see their toes,
and all you know really, is which way the traffic flows.

From the side of the road the lights at night can get awfully bright
and the speeding traffic can buzz in your ears.

From the side of the road things can often get hazy, a blur, a maze;
one can get lost, and even go crazy.

From the side of the road, there is no place to go.
You never know the things that ‘they’ know.

Or where they come from, or where they go,
and you never see the tips of their toes.

And all you know really is the way the traffic flows.