Joseph Williams Poems

Hands are more than bones and tendon
They are servants of our ambitions
Tools of desire and means of destruction
It is our hands that we shape the world like clay
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We all must find our course in Life's flowing waters
Some days will be met with peaceful winds and joy
While others only the raging tempest's pain is found
And beyond the empty promise of Tomorrow's shore
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I am born within the gentle lights of morning
And raised anew with virtue and peace
As I live and laugh in the warmth of afternoon
I know that I must to join the dying dusk of day
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I've seen Paris in the bright bloom of night
And marched between the ranks of a thousand legions
Carried hatred that burned deep and hot like sulfur
And I've rejoiced at the birth of others
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My uncle was a man who was rich in wealth but poor in management
With every meal on the house and and every free boarding house built
And every stranger that had one of his shirts on their backs
He died with no heirs or fortune to be inherited, penniless as a pauper
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In a life where only death is guaranteed, why fear the rising of tomorrow?
While mortal time slips through our desperate hands, why not enjoy the gift of now?
No matter where we exist, are we not granted the beauty of existence?
Fear not for the lands unseen beyond the winding roads and tribulations of life
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Haircuts are fickle things; they're a lot like life
Sometimes you wake up, look in the mirror, and like the way it looks
Sometimes? Not so much
Sometimes you wish your hair would part a little more neatly
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He was a devout and fiery anarchist
She worked as a Government official
He wore hoodies and joggers
She dressed in skirts prim and proper
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It was a peaceful June day when I spoke to him
Dressed in plain gardening clothes and sunshine
Listening to my youthful worries and woes in life
All while tending to his precious lilies and orchids
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