David Whalen Poems

Things I'd like to see

A congressman with cojones
A president with pride
A government less regulated
And no agendas to hide
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Spring…you tug upon my heartstrings
You’re akin to that last piece of cake
The last sip of that delicious drink…
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It was one of those
kind of afternoons
When ball games were heard
From open windows
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I want to tell my family
I want to tell those who are near
Please don’t look through me
Because…I’m still here
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Do I hear the sound of Angels?
Feel the hand of Reaper Grim…
Rest upon my shoulder
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Lonely Grey Lady At McDonalds


She has hunched over shoulders, looks under the weather
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Ode To Books

My glasses lay ‘pon open book
Whilst I give my eyes a respite
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Cry...cry long and hard
for me, Then forget me as
Just a passing breeze
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Invisible Children

Their mothers can see them, but to us they’re invisible
These fate-cursed little creatures with long lashed, limpid eyes
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Isn’t it strange
That everything looks
exactly the same…
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