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jonesjam
  Junior Member

I have known for most of my life that words are mischievous critters. Words don't always do what they should. I have attempted to discipline them and occasionally been able to make them behave the way I want them to. I have always written for my own enjoyment, but at times I have remodeled some of my poems so that I can share them with others without embarrassing anyone - like me for instance. The earliest poem that I can find that I wrote is from the late '50s and Russia had put Sputnik into space. It so clearly describes the lives of so many of us and not just the satellite. It Screeches Into the silvery Wasteland of the sky To live brightly, To calmly, In A splash of glory die For all to see And then forget forever. Since I am retired from a job, but not retired from life (yet), COVID has given me the opportunity to reassess what I can find of what I have written and get it printed for others to, maybe, enjoy.