You can’t pick your neighbors. And sometimes what you get can be overwhelming, in a way you’d never expect.

 

Even living in a gated community, I didn’t get to choose . . .

 

 

My Next Door Neighbor

 

My next door neighbor is a ghostly being,
A woman we are somewhat afraid of seeing.
Her clothing is more than a bit strange,
Mostly white, and she rarely wants to change.

She never wears makeup and her face is a sight.
And she wears a droopy white hat and isn’t too bright.
A smile never seen upon her face,
She appears on the street, and then disappears without a trace.

But . . . her dog, Casper, is EVEN worse,
Because he moans and groans and can be a curse.
He can be seen carrying around dead rats,
And chases all the neighborhood cats.

He is white as snow and has piercing eyes,
And coming out of nowhere can be quite a surprise.

He’ll scratch your eyes out, if given the chance.

He’s one mean critter, with whom you don’t want to dance.

She attended a block party, with Casper in tow.
They were an eerie pair you didn’t want to know.
But worst of all they got in everybody’s way,
And didn’t listen to a word we had to say.

Last night from her house came a ghostly sound,
And other frightening noises did abound.
She opened her door, scaring every youngster and teen,

Which could be seen as appropriate, as it was Halloween.

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Who am I? What am I meant to do the rest of my life?

 

How do I find out? I want to better understand . . .

 

 

The True Meaning Of Me

 

As a student, my teachers taught me about “The Five Ws Of Life”

     and how my answers to these questions would help me become

     the person I wanted to be.

I treasured these teachings and tried hard to apply them to all aspects

     of my life, in a way that would allow me to travel life’s road with dignity.

 

Now, as I sit and reflect on my past and think about the future, I ask,

     “Who is the most important person in my life?” and this is what I see.

I am unique in a way that makes me special, and if I can’t be important

     to myself, then others in my world can’t be important to me.

 

As I age, memories become abundant—the foundation for what lies ahead, and 

     I ponder, “What is my most cherished memory?”

This is difficult, for I have many that have shaped my life, but the one that  

     stands above the rest was taking my soon-to-be wife’s hand in matrimony.

 

Not young anymore, I wonder, “Where do I want to be tomorrow?” before 

     I drift off into the heavens above.

Upon reflection, my answer is simple; “I enjoy where I live and the people

     in my life, and don’t want to leave the community I love.”

 

I’ve always tried to help others and became an educator, counselor,

     and mediator, hoping to assist them in making the right choices.

Asked, “When did I do something that made a difference in someone’s life?” 

     the response was easy, “I put my own needs aside and listened

     to their voices.”

 

No matter what stage of life I was in, I had to work hard to fulfill my desires 

     and make my dreams a reality.

When asked, “Why should I never stop dreaming?” my answer was clear—

     “There is too much left to discover about the true meaning of me.”

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved

You believe you have a future full of promise. But then the unthinkable happens.

 

The road ahead begins to meander. Life looks bleak and you hope for . . .

 

 

A Better Future Ahead

 

I pulled

the baseball

from my glove,

thrust my arm back,

and pictured

a perfect throw

to home plate.

 

Twenty-two years ago,

I was the man.

Center field,

my domain—

perfection, my dream.

 

At twelve years old,

the world was mine—

both on and off the field.

Girls looked at me

in a way

that made me hot—

oh, so hot!

 

The sweat

poured down

my face.

Chills of excitement

permeated my body.

 

Twenty-two years ago.

Twenty-two years ago.

 

My world

Is different now.

Dark clouds

draping over

my existence

create shadows

from which

I am unable

to escape.

 

I’m a prisoner

in Hell

and have nobody

to blame

but myself.

 

Twenty-two years ago.

Twenty-two tears ago.

 

I took the wrong turn,

traveled down a road

paved with fire

and hellish desire,

as I followed others

who were up

to no good.

 

I pulled

the baseball

from my glove,

thrust my arm back,

and pictured

a perfect throw

to home plate.

 

However, nothing

would ever be

perfect again.

 

I wore a uniform,

but not on my field

of dreams.

And I played

a game

in a way

I never intended.

 

I stared

at the fence

in the prison yard,

and wondered

why I did

what I did.

 

As my arm

propelled the ball,

in perfect fashion,

to the catcher

behind the plate,

I regretted

the actions

of my youth.

I stole a person’s life,

and in turn,

gave up mine.

I cringed

at the thought

of what

I’d done,

but reveled

at the call

of the ump,

”You’re out of here!”

 

Released

the next week,

I’d paid my price

for the crime

I’d committed

as a child.

I’d made

a dreadful mistake.

 

I knew

I’d never

be forgiven

for my sin,

but pictured

a better

future ahead.

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.