By Andy Harley
Fishin’ With Dad
Just right behind our rancher home,
Down this narrow gravel lane,
Was where a small, private pond sat,
And some fish we would obtain.
Using garden worms for bait,
With our reels and ultra light’s,
The fish congregating in the shallows
Would always give us bites.
Bluegills, sunnies, and large mouth
Were the kinds we’d always catch;
And you could certainly guarantee,
That we’d come home with quite a batch?
Before heading back up to the house,
I’d hop-up off the tackle box.
To go stroll down along the spongy bank
And find a couple of real flat rocks.
Across the unruffled water I’d wing ’em . . .
And then count the umpteen skips.
Pretty soon, dad would join in with me,
And show me some throwing tips.
Those fishin’ days when I was a youngster,
Are long gone with the wind.
And there’s not a thing I would not render,
Just to have them back again.
I Saw The Light
Feeling like an old light keeper,
Climbing-up the long spiral staircase;
I proceed towards the glass lantern room,
As a circular breeze brushes my face;
Sweeping the surging sea with her one big eye
She’s been a beacon for a slew of ships.
Helping a many mariners to make their way home
From some venturous ocean trips;
Once outside, and on the catwalk,
It’s hard not to get lost in the view.
With the broad sun dissolving into the horizon,
It makes a breathtaking golden hue.
Looking over the railing to down below,
I see frothy swirls from the pounding waves.
There’s just something about an age-old lighthouse,
And all the romance that it portrays.
Drawn into tangible darkness,
Rushing high speed through a tunnel.
I’m somewhere between two worlds
Spiraling like water through a funnel.
I see a pinpoint of light in the distance,
Growing larger the closer I get.
But for some strange reason I’m not afraid?
And see it not as being a threat.
Moving with the flow of fine silk,
My translucent body glows;
Like thousands of tiny diamonds
They sparkle and superimpose.
A floodgate of knowledge has been opened,
With infinite waves of love;
There’s a pageantry of dramatic colors here
That just could never be dreamed of?
I see miraculous mountains of deep blue velvet
And spectacular valleys galore;
A waterfall dazzles with clarity and life,
This Elysian area I’d love to explore!
Drifting next into a garden,
With swaying grass so crisp, cool, and green;
The luminescent flowers pulsate,
Their shades so completely serene;
I hear music playing of harmonic beauty
That rolls like a glassy river.
Enchanting, mystical tones,
That would make any man alive shiver.
Then suddenly, I see someone in the distance,
Coming towards me to reunite.
This whistling persons emanating glow,
Is such a comforting and glorious sight?
When I can finally distinguish who it is,
I realize it’s my Grandpap Jack.
He tells me that it’s not yet my time,
And that I must now . . . go back.
I could stay an eternity at this divine place
From just these few things that I’ve been shown;
But I know one great day for sure I’ll be back,
Because I believe this is my true home.
Andy Harley was born and raised in Frederick, Maryland where he still currently resides. A large sum of Andy’s spare time he divides between playing his piano and bass guitar. Although Till The Dreaming’s Done: “Poems Crafted For Thinking People” is Andy’s first published book, he takes great pleasure in saying that one of his poems, “Here Comes The Chill,” is now hung on a wall and being displayed at the old Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield, OH—filming location for the 1994 film, The Shawshank Redemption.