Thomas Adams Poems

Keep the gaggle of friends you choose,
all bundled for the night.
Think not the precious things you lose.
Not chose those friendlies right.
...

I see lights! Dimly Flickers that prance and dance atop cold, black, watery reflections. Hues on their own accord, bringing to life - brilliance. Alive, gargantuan! (H) humbly in submission, the meere scent of a country. Widening eyes bringing each to his own, in his manner, his bounty. A light, bright. A day to cast its counterpart by earth and boot. Even should I dare to discontinue? To turn the way around? Who but I? Then, but me, shall be left to flail and cease?
...

Those very stares begin at dawn and winter has a hold.
I frown the gust across the lawn, not bundled for the cold.
The passive change I might subject is subtle say the least.
For saving me has churned awhile by mother and her priest.
...

I have grown accustom to the goodness here and I do look forward. My companion shall certainly trump and win over the darkest assuming night. An enthusiastic cheer so brazen it commands and heralds in sharp rays of vibrant colors. The thump and slam. Then a continued gush. Life effortlessly pushing the limit. It is personal and I am forever curious. I am without effort, the partner to this timely dancer.
...

I remember being happy. And if it's all the same,
I'll tell she woke me up each day with 'Mommy's tickle game'.
And oh that sun was much too bright; my future, full of fame.
To hear my mother's vibrant voice as she called me by my name.
...

See the way the wind will flow on down the waterline.
And tap on recent memories while stroll along the pine.
...

'Choose we from with-in. Our love's sourced and pooled. Then dispatched as such to coral our fancies. Once chosen, that effort upon a single heart will certainly heat a thousand winters.'
...

Windy, whistling, wonderful wind. A breeze adorned and hope.
A silking, soothing, sandy beach with palms and sun to cope.
Then dandy, dreamy, dutiful scenes of friendly playful souls.
Do wisk and worm and work the dreams as lovers play their roles.
...

I fancy back a moment's note; where time ah-ticked mee tikes.
But not so far the traveler, me brainy seeks the 'psyche's! '
Your patience had you quick to qwerk. A sentimental rogue.
The while you passers-by assend, pretend the neigh to 'bogue.'
...

Those brother months that fall before,
are harsh to me, forebode.
Unforgive, their wind and snow
whilst trapped beneith their cold.
...