Passion - Master 5 1 2009

TYMON 1
POETRY
OF
FRANK TYMON
TYMON 2
P
A
S
S
I
O
N .
by
Frank Tymon
(copyright 2004, Frank Tymon)

TYMON 3
An autobiography can be written in many ways. Here, in an indirect manner,
I have written my autobiography.
Poems of childhood,
of youth,
of a lover,
of a warrior,
of a pragmatist,
of a rejectionist,
of a more senior and more philosophical elder.
Or are they but poems of a poor fool . . .
DEDICATION:
To brother Mark, who taught me the wonder of words, with poems read by
firelight.
To sister Ruby for songs sung of evening on the front porch swing.
To my wife, who taught me the truth of love.
To Mom and Dad for continuous support.
To Trula, who defined “Forever Was a Short, Short Time.”
To Cecilia, life ended in the cold depths of Rotherwood, ‘neath the shadow of
“The Bridge of Broken Dreams.”
To Jeb, "The Goddamn Bike Rider," for his final ride. WELL DONE!
To Buck, Zeke and Joe, who died by the gun.
To Betty, of the “Lovely, Lonesome Eyes.”
To the B-29, “God Bless the Hangar Queen.”
To an enemy unknown, life ended.
To our Vietnam Warriors, “Welcome Home, Comrade.”
To our Veterans, All.
And to the many others, who live still, through my simple poems.
Thank you, all.
Emotions trigger responses.
Strong emotions trigger strong responses.
My poems express my emotions.
And here my soul is revealed, for better or for worse, by
my poems of
TYMON 4
P
A
S
S
I
O
TYMON 5
N
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PASSING THOUGHTS
MAN
READER
YOUTH
SULFUR, MOLASSES AND SASSAFRAS TEA
A LAND CALLED FARAWAY
WHERE MY HEROES USED TO RIDE
ELIZABET
A BROKEN DREAM IN NEW YORK TOWN
COURTIN’ AGE
MY POEM
FOREVER WAS A SHORT, SHORT TIME
BRIDGE OF BROKEN DREAMS

TYMON 6
HIGH WINDS IN THE MOUNTAINS
OUTLAWS THREE
THE WILD ONE
SHANTY TOWN
LOVELY LONESOME EYES
I LOVE YOU
THERE WAS A TIME
WARRIOR
AIN'T TH' HAVIN', ITS TH' GETTIN'
A SOLDIER’S LAMENT
THE BLOODY BUCCANEER
THE GOD DAMN BIKE RIDER
I RIDE THE WHITE LINE
THE BEAST
THE TATTERED FLAG
DAD
BUCK, ZEKE, JOE AND I
DARK NIGHT IN THE CROWS-NEST
THE HILL TO DIE ON
THEY CALL HER THE HANGAR QUEEN

TYMON 7
THE ENEMY
COMING HOME
WELCOME HOME, SOLDIER
THE MOUNTAINS OF KOREA
THIS PRAYER IS FOR OUR VETERANS

TYMON 8
MOANING LOW
A LAMENT FOR RUBY RIDGE
SPOTTED OWL STEW
THE ADDICT
THE CHURCH
WASP
WHEN THE CHILDREN OF WACO DIED
THREE DAYS OF DREAD
MUSINGS
I RECKON THERE'S A RAINBOW
THANK GOD FOR THESE COUNTRY MEMORIES
THE FIDDLIN’ FOOL
THE ROAD
FATE
ANTIQUES ALLEY
WINTER STARS
NO ONE SANG THE BLUES
NIGHT THOUGHTS
THE BALLAD OF RAJ MATTEL
A WORLD OF DREAMS
THE MASTER OF OLDEN WOOD

TYMON 9
THE GOOEY, GHASTLY, GROTESQUE GHOST
CONTRASTS
UNHOLY NIGHT
CLOSING THOUGHTS
THE SWEETEST WALTZ
THE PLAY IS NEVER OVER
RAINBOWS AND BUTTERFLIES
THEY SAY THAT THERE’S A HEAVEN
SHE'S SINGING ALL THE OLD SONGS FOR ME
WHERE THE GOLDEN RIVERS FLOW
MY GIFT
BOOKS BY FRANK TYMON
BIOGRAPHY
TYMON 10
PASSING THOUGHTS
TYMON 11
MAN
To think thoughts never thought,
To do Deeds never Done,
To scale Heights never scaled,
This is the Duty laid upon man.
And with God’s help,
Each shall do his share.

TYMON 12
READER
On silver wings of fantasy

I drift across the sky,
And view strange lands of mystery,
As the old world passes by.
On vaunted trips beyond one’s dreams

I spend my leisure hours,
Dodging the pale moonlight beams,
And hoary castle towers.
Over seas of gentle blue,

And seas of angry green,
Through skies where only angels flew,
And dark clouds seldom seen.
Come fly with me, and tarry long,

In strange and distant nook,
Hear soft around us zephyr song,
‘Tis the music of a book.
TYMON 13
YOUTH
TYMON 14
SULFUR, MOLASSES AND SASSAFRAS TEA
When I was young, back in Tennessee,

In early spring, my Mother said to me
Sulfur, molasses and sassafras tea.
Now, I have tasted stuff what was worse,

And I feared a lickin’ if I started to curse,
So my comments were mild, and a little terse.
Well, I swallowed it down, without much glee,

Prayed I’d live, but never again see,
Now I’m a tad older, and turning gray,

And a little wiser, I’ve got to say,
Now and then I wonder if I went astray.
‘Cause, though I thought it’d be the death of me,

I sure felt fine, back in Tennessee,
And I owed it all to … ,

TYMON 15
A LAND CALLED FARAWAY
There is a land called Faraway,

Where little children laugh and play,
And hurry home at end of day.
Where time is told by tinkling bells.

What joy their silvery tolling tells,
With all resounding crystalline knells.
I’ve never been to Faraway,

Nor heard the bells so sweetly play.
Yet I am sure I’ll go one day.
Not true -- long, long ago,

I played in sun and glistening snow,
With children that I used to know.
By time so gently led away,

For when we age we can not stay.
Seduced by life we go astray.
Yet back I go, if but in dreams,

To fairyland ‘neath moonlight beams.
Beneath her light that fair world gleams.
There is a land called Faraway,

And I must hurry there someday,
Hurry there, and ever stay.
TYMON 16
WHERE MY HEROES USED TO RIDE
Old Levis and cowboy boots,

And a sixgun by my side,
I’d ride across the prairies,
Where my heroes used to ride.
Up ahead there’s Wild Bill,

To my right, Geronimo,
The sound of guns across the ridge,
Must be the Alamo.
Davy Crockett takes his stand,

With the men from Tennessee.
Jim Bowie from his death bed fights,
And Texas will be free.
Behind me, up th’ trail a ways,

Custer takes his stand,
Many a soldier, and many a brave,
Sleep on that bloody land.
Wyatt Earp walks the streets,

By his side, Doc Holiday,
And riding in from off th’ range,
The cowpokes come to play.
Across the plains the rifles boom,

Where they hunt the buffalo,
And covered wagons moving west,
Into the sunset’s glow.
They say there’s gold in them thar hills,

And maybe silver too,
So were off to California
To start a life anew.
Annie Oakley and Buffalo Bill,

Ariding along with me,
I dream about the wild west,
I know I’ll never see.
TYMON 17
I reckon there’s a Heaven,

Where all brave heroes ride,
And, maybe, if I’m lucky,
I’ll be by their side.
Old Levis and cowboy boots,

And a sixgun by my side,
I’d ride across the prairies,
Where my heroes used to ride.
TYMON 18
IN HONOR OF ELIAN GONZALEZ’ MOTHER,

ELIZABET GONZALEZ
WHO GAVE HER LIFE
THAT HER CHILD MIGHT BE FREE.
GODKEEP
ELIZABET
How calm the waters at the start,

How bright the stars above,
Her child’s future in her heart,
A heart so filled with love.
Dark clouds gathered along the way,

On a dark and wild sea.
She prayed for return of light and day,
Didn’t know it never would be.
Strapped on her child the life vest,

And told him not to fear.
Told of the wonders to the west,
Sensed she’d not be near.
Good Mothers, let’s pray that you

Shall never face this test,
And always summer skies of blue,
And a land of Freedom’s best.
How could she know her child’s fate,

Happily hearing the lighthouse bell,
She’d opened for him Freedom’s gate,
But they sent him back to hell.
TYMON 19
A BROKEN DREAM IN NEW YORK TOWN
“Momma, when is Daddy coming home?”
“Momma, when is Daddy coming home?

“He promised we’d see the park today,
“Why did Daddy go away?
A broken dream in New York Town,

A child’s world came tumbling down,
As buildings tumbled to the ground.
She held her daughter tenderly,

To protect her from the misery,
And horror that she should not see.
A broken dream in New York Town.
“Your Daddy’s gone far away,

“But you and I have to stay,
“We’ll go to the park another day.”
A broken dream in New York Town.
How many dreams were broken there?

How many offered up a prayer?
“God keep the children everywhere.
“From a broken dream in New York Town.”

TYMON 20
COURTIN’ AGE
TYMON 21
MY POEM
My poem isn't words on parchment thin,

Nor paeans chanted to a deity,
But the gentle softness of her skin,
And the wonder of her standing close to me.
My poem isn't rhyme of bookish sounds,

Nor simple sounds which only rhyme,
My poem is her eyes of softest browns,
The wondrous gift she gives me of her time.
My poem isn't written with the pen,

Nor flow of ink upon the page,
But with love, and with love again,
That grows unbounded as we age.
My poem is those things she is to me,

The dreams, the hopes, the happiness,
My poem is a living reality,
My wife - God's gift of Heaven's best.
TYMON 22
FOREVER WAS A SHORT, SHORT TIME
She said she’d love me forever

She said she’d always be mine,
Yes, she said she’d love me forever,
Ah, forever was a short, short time.
We walked alone in the moonlight,

Mid bower where honeysuckle climb
Swore she would love me forever,
I held her close and I kissed her,

Her lips like the sweetest of wine,
She said she’d hold me forever,
The skies were blue for a season,

The sun seemed forever to shine,
She loved me then and forever,
She’s gone, she’s gone, oh, forever,

So ends a love so divine,
She’s gone, she’s left me forever.
Oh, forever’s such a long, long time.
Oh, forever’s such a long, long time.

TYMON 23
BRIDGE OF BROKEN DREAMS
The rivers run deep and silent

‘Neath moonlight, each, silvery, gleams,
‘Cept yonder, in th’ shadow,
Of the Bridge of Broken Dreams.
I have crossed some mighty rivers,

And bridged some lesser streams,
But none have brought me sorrow,
Like the Bridge of Broken Dreams.
We met there in the moonlight

Welcomed by moon’s gentle beams,
And I kissed her in the moonlight,
On that Bridge of Broken Dreams.
In my arms I tightly held her,

Ah, not tight enough, it seems,
And told her I must leave her,
On that Bridge of Broken Dreams.
On the bridge I softly kissed her,

Left to pursue my worldly schemes,
Promised faithfully to soon return,
To that Bridge of Broken Dreams.
From her Pa I got a letter,

How she died in those dark streams,
Now I live beneath the shadow,
Of the Bridge of Broken Dreams.
TYMON 24
HIGH WINDS IN THE MOUNTAINS
Oh, Johnny went courtin' his true, true love

High winds in th' mountains, High winds
High winds in the mountains, High winds, High winds
High winds in the mountains, high winds.
His mother said, as he stood by the door,

High winds in the mountains, high winds,
"I fear if ye go, ye'll come back no more,"
High winds in the mountains, high winds, high winds,
High winds in the mountains, high winds,
Young Johnny smiled and stepped to her side,

High winds in th' mountains, high winds
"I climb th' high mountains to fetch home a bride,"
High winds in th' mountains, high winds, high winds,
High winds in th' mountains, high winds.
They found him next morning so dead and so cold,

May the God of true lovers be kind to his soul,
High winds in th' mountains, high winds, high winds

High winds in th' mountains, High winds, high winds
TYMON 25
OUTLAWS THREE
We gathered at the river, we three,

Where the quiet waters flow,
And gazed at the moon through the leafless tree,
As she gleamed on the new-fallen snow.
Outcasts--forlorn, in a bitter world,

Hunted and on the run.
We traveled by night in the wintry cold,
And hid from the light of the sun.
We'll gather at the river no more,

Our race is all but run;
We'll gaze no more on a wintry moon,
Nor shiver at rise of the sun.
The first to go was Joe,

From the blast of an officer's gun
And Mary died from a broken heart,
'Tho' it's said it couldn't be done.
They're waiting there, at the river's edge;

Thinking I yet may show.
Joe, with laugh, and friendly smile,
And a touch of friendship's glow.
Mary, singing, that gentle voice,

Would calm the fiercest storm;
And the love in her eyes as she looks at Joe,
Is there to keep him warm.
They can not know that it was me,

Who gave the plot away.
They can not know the jealous heart,
So black that snow-white day.
TYMON 26
I let them know Joe's hiding place.
Prayed Mary would be mine
But with his death she soon was gone,
Leaving but me behind.
I know they're here, this wintry night,

And fear’s cold as the howling wind,
For I must go 'ere morning light
And join them once again.
The walnut tree is standing tall,

Th' moon is shining high.
Th' waters rippling quietly here,
Now th' breeze is but a sigh.
There's nothing here on earth for me,

It died along with them.
If they'll take me back I'11 soon be there,
--If this rope holds tight to the limb.
TYMON 27
THE WILD ONE
It’s a right fur piece to yonder, and I reckon I oughta stay home,
But I was born a wild one, and I’ve a hankerin’ ta roam.
On t’other side of yonder is a place I’ve never been,
With rollin’ hills, meadows green, trees bending in the wind.
I’ve a longing deep within me that I don’t understand,

To see the world of faraway, some strange and distant land.
Maybe over yonder, just beyond that hill,
Or might just be in my backyard, beyond this window sill.
Of a night, in dreams, I go there, though it be so far away,

But with wakening I’ve lost it, in the brightness of the day,
Yet I know it’s there awaiting, acallin me back home,
And the longings never ending, that hankering to roam.
Ah, I was born a wild one, And it’s wild I’ll ever be.
I’m off to climb the mountains, or sail across the sea,
For yonder’s ever calling, there’s a longing in my soul,
And I reckon I’ll be leaving, for yonder lies my goal.
Goodbye to Dad and Mother, to Sister, Brother, too,

And my friend, all good things end, and so, goodbye to you,
Goodbye, my bonnie sweetheart, think you kind thoughts of me,
And never love a wild one, he’ll bring you misery.
It’s a right fur piece to yonder, and I reckon I oughta stay home,
But I was born a wild one, and I’ve a hankerin to roam.
TYMON 28
SHANTY TOWN
In Shanty Town, across the tracks,

Old tin sheds, broken down shacks,
What clothes they own are on their backs,
In Shanty Town, across the tracks.
Here live the dregs, such as they be,

The shipwrecked souls of society,
Once, perhaps, like you and me,
Now, woebegone, in misery.
They wake up hungry in the morn,

Awishin’ that they’d never been born,
Lives so twisted, ripped and torn,
Hopes and dreams, all, now, forlorn.
In discarded trash they search for food,

Uncooked, raw, fried or stewed.
For cast off clothes, however rude,
Beer, wine, or whiskey, however brewed.
In Shanty Town, across the tracks,

Old tin sheds, broken down shacks,
What clothes they own are on their backs,
In Shanty Town, across the tracks
TYMON 29
LOVELY LONESOME EYES
I miss her sweet smile,

Even her gentle sighs,
And the soft touch of sadness,
In her lovely, lonesome eyes.
When I first saw her,

I winced in surprise
How beautiful this angel,
With her lovely, lonesome eyes.
I swore that I would hold her,

And here in my arms she lies,
As I love away the sadness,
In her lovely, lonesome eyes.
Ah, the years have gone so quickly,

But the memory never dies,
Of when first I saw a smile,
In those lovely, lonesome eyes.
How sweet our life together,

Beneath God’s bright blue skies,
How wonderful the happy light,
In those lovely, lonesome eyes.
No matter where I wander,

‘Neath bright or stormy skies,
I’ll always love the lady,
With those lovely, lonesome eyes.
Yes, I loved away the sadness,

From those lovely, lonesome eyes.
TYMON 30
I LOVE YOU
I would not live forever,

And yet . . . .
Another hour?
Perhaps another day.
And that day,

That hour . . . .
How would I use them?
Only to love you more.
Enough!
I go.
But long after me,
My love, forever, shall with you stay.
In morning sun and budding rose,

In birdsong and floating butterfly
In soft caress of evening breeze,
Gently whispering, ever, I Love You.
TYMON 31
THERE WAS A TIME
There was a time . . .

And that so long ago.
Yesterday.
She opened wide my door,

Smiled a happy “good-morning,”
And went along her way.
But time goes by, and now . . .

The door is open wide -
Today.
The hall is silent now,

And oh so empty
I am alone.
There is a time . . .
Yes, that is even now
Today.
I whisper soft her name,

I see a smile, a happy smile,
And know within my heart.

TYMON 32
WARRIOR
TYMON 33
AIN'T TH' HAVIN', ITS TH' GETTIN'
When th' peak's attained,

When th' battle's won,
When th' trophy's in hand,
And th' chore is done.
Only then do you understand,

In th' quiet of night
That gold is dross -
And th' prize was in th' fight!
Working together to build a new world,

Sharing problems that no one can solve,
Fighting together, back to back,
And pressing onward as eons evolve.
No, it ain't th' havin'.

But it takes a while to know,
The camaraderie of the war,
That slowly seems to grow.
TYMON 34
A SOLDIER’S LAMENT
Sing one sad song for my true, true love,

And one sad song for me.
We met that day in the old church yard,

Beneath the willow tree.
She sang a song of true, true love,
Not knowing it never could be.
I’ve traveled cross many a valley,

I’ve sailed cross many a sea,
And often dreamed of that true, true love,
Still waiting there for me.
Blue eyes that shine, and cherry lips,

That smiled so winningly,
I turned away with a breaking heart,
She ne’er could belong to me.

Some flowers bloom in summer time,

Courted by the bee,
But flowers die in winter time,
Of cold and misery.
I fought our wars in many a clime,

Afar across the sea,
And wondered if, throughout that time,
My true love waits for me.
A soldier fights his wars alone,

Wherever he may be.
'Til he dies on the field with but a moan,
And sleeps for eternity.
TYMON 35
Death is near, my eyes are dim,

And yet I seem to see,
Sparkling blue eyes and cherry lips,
Smiling so winningly.

TYMON 36
THE BLOODY BUCCANEER
Aye, a Bloody Buccaneer he was,

A Bloody Buccaneer
But when Old Hickory needed fighting men,
Jean Lafitte was there.
Aye, Captain Lafitte was there
But when Old Hickory needed fighting men,
Jean Lafitte was there
A Bloody Buccaneer

A Bloody Buccaneer
In 1814, in New Orleans,
When defeat was very near
Old Hickory called for fighting men,
And Captain Lafitte was there.
Aye, Jean Lafitte was there
When Old Hickory called for fighting men,
Jean Lafitte was there
A Bloody Buccaneer

A Bloody Buccaneer
He sailed into Lake Ponchatrain,
The British he did not fear
He sank their ships and sailed out again,
That Bloody Buccaneer
Jean Lafitte was there,
Aye, Captain Lafitte was there.
A Bloody Buccaneer

A Bloody Buccaneer
The moon was bright on the Spanish Main
A seaman slipped into the waters clear
TYMON 37
Captain Lafitte was laid to rest,

A seaman slipped into the waters clear
Jean Lafitte was laid to rest,
A Bloody Buccaneer

A Bloody Buccaneer
So when you toast your heroes,
And perhaps shed a tear,
Drink ye one toast for a sailor boy,
Jean Lafitte was there,
Aye, Captain Lafitte was there.
A Bloody Buccaneer

A Bloody Buccaneer
When the dogs of war besiege our land
And it seems the end is near
Jean Lafitte will be there,
Aye, Captain Lafitte will be there
A Bloody Buccaneer
And though it be only in spirit,
His courage we all shall share
Though a Bloody Buccaneer he was
A Bloody Buccaneer.
Aye, Jean Lafitte,

A Bloody Buccaneer he was,
A Bloody Buccaneer
TYMON 38
THE GOD DAMN BIKE RIDER
He stood at the door

About six foot four,
And the look on his face was mean.
And the drinkers there,
As they turned to stare,
Knew he rode a bad machine!
He stalked 'cross the room

With a face of gloom,
And bellied up to the bar.
Then he ordered a drink,
Gave the barmaid a wink,
As he scratched at an ancient scar.
Why do you weep,

His growl was deep,
Do you fear the snow and the cold?
I've got two arms
To warm your charms,
And he leered with his proffer bold.
She smiled at his pass

And served his glass,
With weathered hand she took his gold,
And told him a story,
Of the blizzard’s fury
As made his blood run cold.
Of a child alone
On a mountain of stone,
In the heart of the blizzardy storm,
Of the falling snow,
Of the cold wind’s blow,
And naught to keep her warm.
TYMON 39
Her wet tears fell

As she thought of that hell,
And he knew her story was true
His voice was wry,
As he glanced round the sty,
“And what of this mangy crew.”
“What of these brave men,”

He looked round again,
At the drinkers sipping warm,
“Will not one go
And face the snow?
Dare none to brave the storm?”
He sneered at them all

Across that hall
On his face was a bit of a leer,
“So tell me then
Where is her den,
And I will bring her here.”
“Not a trail that I can't ride,

Not a climb I haven’t tried.”
He looked around as he made his boast
A sneer on his lips,
His hands on his hips,
Then he smiled at his tearful host.
Swiftly to the barroom door,

Quickly the mighty engine’s roar,
A drinker slowly stood up beside her
And said with a sway
As the biker rode away,
“God damned bike rider!”
He climbed the knolls,

With their blanket of snows
He faced the blizzard’s relentless wrath
TYMON 40
In the dark of a night
Devoid of light
He searched for that upward path.
Higher and higher,

Through slush and mire
Here paths and roads were none
Yet far away,
Saw a candle’s ray,
But his ride had just begun.
He reached the shack

He brought her back
Wrapped warm in his leather coat.
And fought his way,
‘til break of day,
Heard the engine’s final note.
He staggered on
‘Til well past dawn,
And he cursed his brag so bold,
Still he carried her then
‘Til the blizzard’s end
And he died in the bitter cold.
Of a wintry night,
When there’s little light,
In a bar outside of town
There’s a child stands
Holding Mother’s hands
And listens to a far off sound
“I remember the night,

The cold and the fright,
I remember the engine’s roar.
He dried my tears,
Quickly shifted gears,
Oh, Mother, I hear it once more!
TYMON 41
With tear-glazed eyes,

Looked at wintry skies
Heard a far off biker’s mill
She stood by the fire,
As the bike climbed higher,
And higher and higher still,
Reached for the mountain top

Even there would not stop
The rider climbed upward and on,
Through dark of night
Through blizzard’s might
He climbed, climbed, climbed - was gone.
A Mother’s tear-dimmed eyes

Gazed out at wintry skies.
Held her daughter close beside her.
And ended a prayer
While standing there
“God . . . blessed Bike Rider.”

TYMON 42
I RIDE THE WHITE LINE
There’s them that ride better,

But I’m doing fine,
From Diego to Frisco,
I ride the white line
The Beast that I ride on

Is heavy and dark,
With an engine like thunder,
An each hill is a lark.
I’ve outrun the racers,

With never a sweat,
There’s many would beat me,
And never done it yet.
There’s them that ride better,

But I’m doing fine,
From Diego to Frisco,
I ride the white line
TYMON 43
THE BEAST
Big and ugly and mean,

Black and rugged and long,
Daring me to step astride her,
Be her master, if I be that strong.
I’ve traveled on many a highway,

On cowpaths, and old worn trails.
I’ve spent some time in happy homes,
And some in bleak, cold jails.
And always, she’s carried the burden,

With never a major fault.
That mighty engine roaring,
Chasing dreams that came to naught.
Ah, well, it’s nearly over,

One pleasure, and not the least,
We’ve traveled the old world together,
With me on the back of The Beast.
As Hell’s gate are opening

And I am leaving life’s feast,
I’ll enter that domain right boldly,
Riding proud on the back of The Beast!
TYMON 44
THE TATTERED FLAG
Tattered, torn, Old Glory flies,

Proudly high ‘neath troubled skies,
Though fly is ripped,
Still canton hold,
And shining bright the Union bold,
midst dust and smoke,
Its colors gleam,
Ever displaying Freedom’s dream.
From across the land our heroes came,

And though we know them not by name,
We know them well by courageous deed,
Who gave their lives to those in need,
Our prayers we send to God above,
That such as these shall find His love,
And that Old Glory long may fly,
In peace once more in Freedom’s sky.
A battle streamer need grace that flag,

Remarking the battle with a simple tag,
That all may know the brave souls here,
And perhaps in passing shed a tear,
For tattered and torn still Old Glory flies,
Forever, God willing, in Freedom’s skies.
TYMON 45
DAD
A quiet man, Dad.

I don’t recall him ever mad,
‘cept when he had good cause.
A drinking man, Dad.

At moments when life was sad,
And he had to take a pause.
A working man, Dad.

Hard work for everything he had,
A house and its four walls.
An understanding man, Dad.

Stood by me when things were bad.
Shored me up against life’s falls.
A brave man, Dad.

Took gun in hand to the sheriff’s pad,
Brought son from a cold jail’s walls.
A lonesome man, Dad.

One wife he loved, one wife he had.
Together traveled through life’s halls.
Memories of Dad,
The good, sometimes the sad.
God bless as curtain falls.
TYMON 46
BUCK, ZEKE, JOE AND I
Buck, Zeke, Joe and I,

Damn young fools too often hi,
Ridge Runners on the fly,
Never a run we wouldn't try.
Harlan County was my run,

Laded with booze, and a handy gun,
Hit the road with th' setting sun,
Crossed the peaks 'fore night was done.
Joe was the driver, Mississippi way,

Raced the Sheriff at break of day,
Lost the race I'm sorry to say,
We buried him there, 'neath Mississippi clay.
Zeke was a gambler, played poker well,

Drunk th' 'shine 'til the closing bell,
Cursed a winner, didn't live to tell,
Sleeps th' long sleep near where he fell.
Buck, kinda quiet but a drinker too,

Occasionally sipped just too much brew,
Challenged our Sheriff; the bullets flew,
Died at the age of twenty two.
Left the mountain to sail the sea,

Party's over, none left but me,
Strange how much I miss those three --
A slice of life back in Tennessee.
TYMON 47
DARK NIGHT IN THE CROWS-NEST
Far below the hull bounces on roiled sea,

Waves reach upward, white tipped, angry,
Lightning rents the dull gray curtain
And thunder applauds with mighty ovation.
On we sail, stabbing into the heart of the dread hurricane.

Quickly, so quickly, the ship drives forward.
At times, huge propellers above the waterline,
And ship quivering and twisting falling back again.
The ocean’s blue has darkened,

An ugly green, evil and foreboding.
Day’s end.
Below, crew descends to rest,
Hatches dogged, bunks and hammocks freed,
Tired sailors, cold and tossed by stormy sea,
Lie down but cannot rest.
Crashing of waves, howling of wind,

Creaking of metal on metal --
The music of the seaman,
Lulls them to a wretched sleep.
The waves now reach my feet,

Wash upon my legs,
Finally grasp angrily at my body.
Fall thunderously back to strike the deck below,
And then return.
Bow dips beneath the water,

Rises once more to drain the salted water to its home.
We ride the waves.
And in the Crows-nest I watch the storm,
And pray to be alive with coming dawn,
As waves claw angrily higher and higher.
A dark night in the crows-nest.

TYMON 48
THE HILL TO DIE ON
It lies ahead, gaunt cliffs

Rising to peaks of pointed stone.
Innocent and quiet and yet --
Hidden by that outward calm,
A thirst for blood
That cannot be assuaged.
A Hill To Die On!
God forbid.
I would not end so soon,

So much undone.
I have in me grandeur,
I have love to give,
Memories to make,
Dreams to dream.
Somber and quiet it stands,
Waiting. Silently waiting,
Oblivious of my pain, of my dreams,
As I wait.
And now the order comes.

We move forward, single file,
Weapons ever ready,
And in our minds the thought --
Is this the hill to die on?
TYMON 49
THEY CALL HER THE HANGAR QUEEN
Once she flew, bright and proud,

Engines roaring, strong and loud,
Flew with the best,
And led the crowd,
Now they call her the Hangar Queen
Flying low, in wartime’s hell,

Flying high, above ack-ack shell,
She done her duty,
And done it well,
Flight after flight to the enemy’s lair,

Where bullets and rockets fill the air,
She flew the missions
That few would dare,
In her last flight in war-torn sky,

Battered and barely able to fly,
She brought us home,
Bullets flying by,
God Bless the Hangar Queen.
TYMON 50
THE ENEMY
Lying there upon the ground,

Bleeding, silent, not a sound,
But in those sad and dying eyes,
The wonder, why, near death, he lies.
The enemy. He came to kill,

Defender, I, of this small hill.
Bullets flying all around,
With bayonet I brought him down.
No groan gives he, though in pain,

There dying, in the mud and rain.
A question in that dying gaze,
Unanswered, as eyes begin to glaze.
“Was this the fate, for which I was born,

To die upon this stormy morn,
And all the dreams are ended now,”
I watched his death with wrinkled brow.
I laid aside my weapon then,

Prayed I’d not need to use again.
Prayed for the soul of the enemy,
And wondered, would he, have prayed for me.

TYMON 51
COMING HOME
The wind was blowing gently through the trees,
through the trees,
The flag was flying proudly in the breeze,
in the breeze
The drums were beating slow
And bugles soft and low,
As our soldiers returned from overseas,
from overseas.
Except for there’s a few,
When Taps so gently blew,
Will not be coming home from overseas,
from overseas.
God Keep.
TYMON 52
WELCOME HOME, SOLDIER
The Words I've Never Heard
We've fought our country's battles,

In many a foreign land.
Too many times I've taken the lead,
And been the point man.
We've bravely met the enemy,
So I don't understand.
"Welcome Home, Soldier."
The Words I've Never Heard.
The vicious words of Hanoi Jane,

Forever burned within my brain.
"Baby Killer," shouted loud,
From the angry lips of a sullen crowd.
These I hear even as I sleep,
Voiced with hatred running deep
And yet,
"Welcome Home, Sailor."
I’ve flown in skies where death is near,

I’ve flown some missions filled with fear.
I’ve brought home birds on strength of will,
On prayer, and my remaining skill.
And heard, in horror, the words of Jane,
That she would eagerly down my plane.
And yet,
“Welcome Home, Airman.”

TYMON 53
In Hotel Hanoi I’ve spent the years,

Surviving hell and countless fears,
In rain and heat and solitary cell,
Hearing screams, and friends’ death knell.
Prayed God and Country would remember me,
And, at last, some day, I’d see,
“Welcome Home, Marine.”
Thirty years and more have flown,

As these cold streets I've walked alone.
You see me now, a broken man,
Walk in my shoes to understand.
For echoes in my mind, always,
The welcome received in those desolate days.
And even now,
"Welcome Home, Comrade."

TYMON 54
THE MOUNTAINS OF KOREA
The Arctic climes have bitter cold,

In white outs, I can't see ya,
But the coldest cold I've ever known?
In the mountains of Korea.
The Chinese troops came down the draw,

We shouted, "Glad to see ya,"
And brought them down with old M-1s,
We're home now, and soon forget,

How hard we fought to free ya,
And the brave men we left behind,
In Africa's the hottest heat,

In sweat and sun I see ya,
In Vietnam both sweat and blood,
Like the mountains of Korea.
Happy homecomings we had planned,

And shouts of "Glad to see ya."
Spit and curses was all we got,
Much colder than Korea.
From old Iraq we're coming home,

And few'll come out to see ya,
This strange country, America,
Much colder than Korea.
TYMON 55
MEMORIAL DAY / VETERANS DAY

THIS PRAYER IS FOR OUR VETERANS
THOUGH THE POLITICIANS LOST OUR WARS,

OUR VETERANS NEVER DID.
FROM EL ALAMEIN TO ANZIO,
FROM NORMANDY TO THE RHEIN,
ON THE ISLANDS OF THE PACIFIC
AND THE RIDGES OF KOREA,
THROUGH THE JUNGLES OF VIETNAM
AND THE DESERTS OF ARABIA.
ON LAND, ON SEA, AND IN THE AIR.
THEY FOUGHT WHERE DUTY CALLED.
TO THOSE WE ARE SO LUCKY TO HAVE WITH US STILL,

THOSE WHO SURVIVED WAR'S HELL,
THE WOUNDED, DISABLED, ILL
GOD BLESS, AND THANK YOU.
WELL DONE!
AND WHILE WE HONOR OUR VETERANS,

FORGET NOT THOSE BY COUNTRY FORSAKEN;
THE PRISONERS OF WAR, THE MISSING IN ACTION,
FORLORN, DOOMED PAWNS, LONG LOST,
SAVE IN OUR MEMORIES.
GOD BLESS THEM, AND GOD FORGIVE US.
PLEASE, IN YOUR PRAYERS, REMEMBER THEM

WHO SAILED THE LAST VOYAGE,
FOUGHT THE LAST BATTLE,
FLEW THE LAST FLIGHT.
THEY DIED FOR YOU.
AND WITH DEEP RESPECT, THIS PRAYER IS FOR

THE MEN I SAILED WITH,
WHO WEIGHED ANCHOR FOR THE LAST TIME;
FOR THE MEN I FLEW WITH ,
WHO FLEW THE LAST MISSION.
GODKEEP, AMEN
Frank Tymon, Lt. Col., USAF, (ret.)
TYMON 56
MOANING LOW
TYMON 57
A LAMENT FOR RUBY RIDGE
The moan, moan, moaning of the wind,

The moan, moan, moaning of the wind, wind, wind
And a mother lying dead,
With a bullet through her head,
And the moan, moan, moaning of the wind,
And the moaning of the wind,
On Ruby Ridge.
The wail, wail, wailing of the wind,

The wail, wail, wailing of the wind, wind, wind.
And a child lying dead,
Blood flowing deep and red,
And the wail, wail, wailing of the wind,
And the wailing of the wind,
On Ruby Ridge.
The sigh, sigh, sighing of the wind,

The sigh, sigh, sighing of the wind, wind, wind.
With blind justice lying dead,
While a nation waits in dread,
And the sigh, sigh, sighing of the wind,
And the sighing of the wind,
On Ruby Ridge.
The cry, cry, crying of the wind

The cry, cry, crying of the wind, wind, wind
With fair Freedom lying dead,
And peace forever fled,
With the cry, cry, crying of the wind,
With the crying of the wind,
On Ruby Ridge.
TYMON 58
The moan, moan, moaning of the wind,

The moan, moan, moaning of the wind, wind, wind
On Ruby Ridge.
(Ruby Ridge, August 21,22, 1992)

TYMON 59
SPOTTED OWL STEW
When the lumbering's over, but the trees are still there,
And you know at home th' pantry's bare,
The kid's are ill and you don't know what to do.
Why, have yourself some Spotted owl stew.
When the otters eat all the abalone,

And you ain't got money to buy baloney,
Try yourself some Spotted owl stew.
With stewed otter innards if you like that too.
When the dolphins are swimming big and fat,

And the tuna fishermen don't know where the next job's at.
Don't worry, brother, you know what to do,
Just have yourself some Spotted owl stew.
With dolphin steak and a filet or two.
When the EPA says to hell with the working man,

It's the birds and bees what own this land,
Relax old son, though they're after you,
Kick back and enjoy some Spotted owl stew,
Some snail darters, a salmon steak,
Why have yourself a dolphin bake.
If the water's scarce, and the country's dry,

And you just might be wondering why,
Them fish gotta have some water too,
So just relax with some Spotted owl stew.
Or fish bouillabaisse might better suit you.
See you at the unemployment line,

And I'm glad th' country is doing fine,
The environment's the best you ever seen,
But I just ran out of pork and bean,
But come on over when you're through
And try my homemade Spotted owl stew.
TYMON 60
The wife and kids have left me now,

They're tryin' to get some help from the welfare gal,
It's something I hope they're able to do,
Cause they sure were tired of Spotted owl stew.
One by one, they're taking us down,

To save the wildlife all around,
Wish the working man were wildlife too,
We wouldn't have to live on Spotted owl stew,
Oh, you're next brother,
Don't say I didn't warn you.
TYMON 61
THE ADDICT
It started as a little fun,

Near thirty years ago,
“C’mon,” they said, “ try just one”
Well, how could I say no?
After that, I went along,

It wasn’t bad at all,
We’d puff, talk, sing a song
And sometimes have a ball.
Later came the harder stuff,

It really packed a blow,
My body found it kinda rough,
Yet I never could say no.
Money? Oh, I’d find a way,

It wasn’t hard to fin’,
Hit a house round break of day,
Be gone, with goods, by nine.
I spent a little time in jail,

It wasn’t all that bad.
At first he’d come and go my bail,
Sure suckered my old dad!
My God, the years have slipped away,

These streets are awful cold,
Gotta find a flophouse by end of day,
Dear God, I’m growing old.
Saw my sister yesterday,

With her brand new son
Her husband standing proudly by,
Told them I had to run.
TYMON 62
For a while I was a queen,

I’d party and I’d play,
Now my life’s another scene
God, look at me today!
TYMON 63
THE CHURCH
Hungry and cold at break of day,

I dragged along the road,
And saw a steeple far away,
Perhaps shelter from the cold.
As I came near I saw a crowd,

Gentlemen and ladies fair.
As I approached my head was bowed,
And I offered up a prayer.
They looked at me all with a frown,

They moved out of my way.
On the back bench I sat me down,
Though I knew I could not stay.
“Welcome,” said the preacher with a smile,

“On such a beautiful day.”
The worshippers shook hands for a while.
From me, they turned away.
“Coffee and food when we’re done,

After the service is over.
Good food for everyone.”
Perhaps, I thought, for this rover.
The usher took me to the door,

“I think you don’t belong here,”
Head bowed, I walked across the floor,
Prayed the service would bring them cheer.
TYMON 64
WASP
There was a time you stood right tall,

And proud of your heritage.
Being a WASP meant many things,
And you were pleased with them all.
It meant that you never shirked your work,

A man men could depend upon.
You carried your load with the best of men,
And you strove for your family like a Turk.
You built a country second to none.

With the ethic in you inborn.
You fought its wars throughout the world,
And fought 'em 'til they were won.
They say your kind is history,

Your place is in time long gone.
There's no need for men with iron spine;
Who'll take your place is mystery.
White Anglo-Saxon Protestant!

What a terrible thing to be!
Bearing that load throughout your life!
Its a way of life thoroughly errant!
TYMON 65
WHEN THE CHILDREN OF WACO DIED
The screams reached to the Heavens,

The smoke reached to the skies
The fires of Hell were burning bright
When the children of Waco died.
The imps of hell laughed loud with glee,

While some just chortled inside,
And the devil smiled his happy smile
When the Children of Waco died.
If ever you visit Waco

Place flowers, where desolation lies,
And curses for those who lit Hell’s flames
Two names now grace the Halls of Hell,

The Devil looks on with pride,
Bill and Janet made his list,
When the children of Waco died.
And in your prayers, Good People,

Remember those who tried
To quench the hell of man made flames
When the Children of Waco died
And pray that there’s a Heaven,

And a God they play beside,
And his angels were quickly with them,
The dark day at Mount Carmel: April 19, 1993.

TYMON 66
THREE DAYS OF DREAD
There are days to be remembered

Days to stand proud
Days to recall heroes
Days to pay homage to our forebears
Sadly, sadly, there are other days,

Days when the flag, inverted, should fly
Three Days of Dread,
When the evils of Government
Should fill our minds.

GOVERNMENT. DESPOTIC GOVERNMENT!
One day, that most evil of all,

When citizens, guiltless,
Were rounded up, like cattle,
And incarcerated in the halls of hell,
The concentration camps.
(Manzanar, March 21, 1942)
One day, on Ruby Ridge,

When Mother and Child died,
By the gun of lawless men,
Hiding behind such symbols as
FBI, BATF, Law.
And none dare intervene.
(Ruby Ridge, August 21,22, 1992)
One day, most evil day,

Mount Carmel, April 19, 1993.
bodies singed, blistered, but ashes..
TYMON 67
Again the symbols -- how strange,

the same, But more.
FBI, BATF, ARMY, Law.
Let the Red, White and Blue, sadly, inverted

Remind you.
It happened,
Again and Again.
And will happen once more
Unless you control the government.
Uncontrolled, all powerful, it is
Three days, fly the flag, sadly inverted, to remind you

Beware
TYMON 68
MUSINGS
TYMON 69
I RECKON THERE'S A RAINBOW
I reckon there's a rainbow,

Over yonder hill.
And a bluebird sits a singin',
On my window sill.
And th' days are gettin' brighter,
Th' nights are not so long,
An' I reckon it's inside my heart,
I hear the bluebird's song.

Over yonder hill.
And streams of crystal water,
A flowin' in th' rill.
And skies are gettin' clearer,
And I see th' green grass grow,
And I reckon its the clear, clear stream,
I'm tasting in my soul.

Over yonder hill,
And a land of milk and honey,
Where we'll dine while all is still.
And th' load is gettin' lighter,
And it's not so hard to bear.
And I reckon it's within us all
To have a world so fair.
TYMON 70
THANK GOD FOR THESE COUNTRY MEMORIES
The earth turns beneath the plows sharp blade,

Beyond the field a grove of greening trees
And furrow after furrow lies behind.
Thank God for these country memories.
At noon we find the cooling spring,

Sip from the dipper, on our knees.
I wipe the sweat of labor from my brow,
On summer day pick blackberries from the brambles

Listen to the humming of the bees,
Watch the bright white clouds float gently by
In autumn we now begin to harvest,

Fruit of our labor never seems to cease
Indian summer moon shines bright above us,
On the porch we gather after supper

Forgotten are the day’s miseries.
Tomorrow we’ll return to the harvest,
TYMON 71
THE FIDDLIN’ FOOL
Ol’ Tom never went to school.

He weren’t smart like me and you.
But Ol’ Tom was sure a Fiddlin’ Fool.
He learned to play from a travellin’ man,

A wanderer across this grand old land,
Who swore Tom was born with a fiddle in his hand.
Ol’ Tom played a real fast doo-si-doo,

Played “Barbara Ellen” sad and slow,
Played sweet love songs soft and low.
The years caught up with Ol’ Tom they say,

On a cold winter night he passed away
Fiddle at his side on the bed where he lay.
Well, when Ol’ Tom passed away,

They buried him there on a dreary day,
Along with th’ fiddle that he used to play.
I reckon they dance in Heaven, too;

But one thing’s sure, if they really do,
They dance to the music by that Fiddlin’ Fool.
TYMON 72
THE ROAD
It’s a long, long road to Heaven,

And a damn short road to Hell,
And which one I’m a takin’
Is sometimes hard to tell.
My Mother often told me,

As she held me by the hand,
Of a better world awaitin’
Where she called the promised land.
I know she’s there ahopin’

That I’ll find the way,
And if God’s good to Mothers,
I’ll make it there some day.
But, I’ve drunk my share of liquor,

And downed my share of wine,
Done my share of Hell raisin’,
And seldom walked th’ line.
It’s a long, long road to Heaven,

And a damn short road to Hell,
And which one I’m a takin’
Is sometimes hard to tell
TYMON 73
FATE
There’s a touch of snow in those dark clouds ahead,

And th’ path is long, with many miles to go,
Wish I were there in my warm bed,
Not here, facing that snow,
wrong path led;
Now wait,
With worried eyes,
Beside the garden gate,
And even now I hear her sighs,
As tired traveler, blizzard bound, challenges fate.
TYMON 74
ANTIQUES ALLEY
How strange it seems

To wander here midst ancient dreams
Of long forgotten familiar scenes.
The musty smell of yesterday,

The olden arts here on display,
Memories that come, then fade away.
How bright the moon in picture frame,

How worn the board for checker game,
So many changes, so much the same.
In every room something you’ll find,

That happy memories brings to mind,
And sometimes memories of another kind.
Ah, well, the day is passing by,

The sun slips downward from the sky,
So many pleasures here to buy.
Well, I’ve tarried much too long,

‘mid dreams and fantasies and song
But it’s here we old antiques belong.
TYMON 75
WINTER STARS
How bright the winter stars

Seen through the cold night air
Each constellation gleaming,
With snowflakes in its hair.
Orion boldly stalking

Across the wintry sky
With Pegasus preceding
Where the seven sisters fly.
The North Star ever glowing,

That we should know our way
And that white path across,
The gleaming Milky Way.
Slowly, slowly pass they by,

For they have traveled far
Through the long night our comrades,
How bright the winter star.
TYMON 76
NO ONE SANG THE BLUES
Staggered into the barroom,

Searched for some empty stools,
But all I heard was hip hop,
And no one sang the blues.
Now I ain’t no musician,

So I got no fame to lose,
But when it comes to music,
There’s nothin’ beats the blues.
I pleaded with the players,

Even bought ‘em booze,
Still, no matter what I did,
No one sang the blues.
Staggered home half drunken

Laid me down to snooze,
Dreamed I was in Heaven,
And Gabriel played the blues.
I wakened all excited,

Put on my dancing shoes,
Dreamed once more of Heaven,
And the angels sang the blues.
TYMON 77
NIGHT THOUGHTS
TYMON 78
THE BALLAD OF RAJ MATTEL
Here sleeps the body of Raj Mattel,

His body sleeps here;
His soul is in Hell.
Disturb not this body.
But if you do,
Raj Mattel shall come for you.
In dark of night the wind will blow,

And gusts will wake Raj Mattel's soul.
He shall come, and sleep by your side.
The image he had, the day he died,
Your eyes shall see as you moan in pain.
As Raj Mattel returns again.
Until at last with early morn.

The image is gone, and you are lorn.
Fear not, my friend, it is not o'er,
For Raj Mattel shall return once more.
Until the day you too sleep well,
And your soul abides with Raj Mattel.
TYMON 79
A WORLD OF DREAMS
Here in a world of dreams we play,

And laugh and sing throughout the day.
And watch the shadows drift away,
Except,
Some shadows always stay,
Where in a world of dreams we play.
We laugh and sing and twirl around,

Where green grass grows, and flowers abound
And happy shadows can be found,
Except,
Some grotesque shadows on the ground,
Where we laugh and sing and twirl around.
When evening comes we dash for home,

‘Neath twinkling stars in Heaven’s dome,
And see no shadows that may roam.
Except,
The grotesque shadow of my own,
Chasing children as they dash for home.
TYMON 80
THE MASTER OF OLDEN WOOD
Many and many a year afore,

There fell the wintry snow,
Blanketing the pines of Olden Wood,
And e’en the ground below.
A maiden hurried through Olden Wood,

Before her a cow she drove,
Each dreamed to reach a shelter warm,
In not too distant cove.
The wind blew strong o’er Olden Wood

A blizzard of the night,
She shivered with the cold,
But shivered more with fright.
For tales were told of Olden Wood,

And none there willing tarry,
For witch and wizard there abide,
With gremlin, wee folk, and fairy.
The Master of the Olden Wood,

The legends oft times tell,
Will seize a maiden of wintry night,
And with him she must dwell.
My Mother stayed in Olden Wood,

The Master she did see,
Returned she home in madness wild,
Died with the birth of me.
So long ago in Olden Wood,

But now I hear the call,
The Master dies in Olden Wood,
His mantle on me shall fall.
TYMON 81
I wander lone through Olden Wood,

‘Neath dark and shadowy pine,
Master of all that drear’ retreat,
And long it were not mine.
.
TYMON 82
THE GOOEY, GHASTLY, GROTESQUE GHOST
There was a gooey, ghastly, grotesque ghost,

Who dined each morning on butter and toast,
And supped of an evening on a well done roast -
This well-fed, gooey, ghastly, grotesque ghost.
And in the middle of the night,

When good folk all are sleeping tight,
This ghost awoke in a terrible fright,
Awoke all atwitter and turning white.
With tummy pains of monstrous size,

He rolled his gooey, ghastly, grotesque eyes,
No more breakfast, 'cause it wasn't wise,
No more roast, and no more pies.
He moaned repentant with painful cries,
If you traipse along some forlorn way,

And meet this spirit of gooey, ghastly, grotesque gray,
And he comes toward you then - quickly say,
Here's toast, and roast - be on your way.
And on his way he'll surely go,

Through rain, through hail, through falling snow,
Screaming, and hollering, and making a row,
Acting gooey, ghastly, and grotesque, you know.
Well, that's the end of our ghastly friend,

I'm afraid he'll never be seen again.
Except, on Halloween's cold, chilly, biting wind,
He'll arrive gooey, ghastly - and grotesque to the end.
TYMON 83
CONTRASTS
The lash of the wind across the trees,

Driving them down, upon their knees.
The thunder's deep and sonorous roll,
Bringing fear to the frightened soul.
A lightning flash across the sky,
A message of doom from on high.
These symbolize a mighty power,

Working his magic from celestial tower.
The reins of the winds are in his hand,
The drums of thunder are played by his band
The lightning flashes within his eyes,
Illuminate the darkened skies.
The storm passes, and then we see

How gentle and soft that power can be.
Soft zephyrs kiss the redolent flowers,
Sunshine's caress, and gentle showers,
The warmth of spring is on the field,
The icy reaches soon will yield,
And crops will grow where all was bare,
And the world we see ne'er looked so fair.
TYMON 84
UNHOLY NIGHT
The tortured clouds, twisting in the wind.

The tormented trees, bowing to its power.
Howling evilly, the wind,
Tearing at roof and wall,
Tearing at my soul.
I lie awake and listen to the sound,

Listen to the growls of anger,
Listen to the low moans of sorrow,
Listen to the monstrous howling,
Of this creature without body,
Of this creature without substance,
Bent upon my destruction.
It rattles windows, playing on my nerves.

Beats the tree limb’s hammer hard upon the roof,
Sweeps the trailing ends hissingly across the tin roof,
Bends, shakes and threatens the entire house.
Then stops, in silence, listening, watching,
For my response.
Quivering I slip deeper beneath the covers,

For I know its game.
When I am least prepared it shall rise up,
From where, crouched, it now awaits.
Rise up, snarling, moaning, growling, spitting.
Rise up to seize me, carry me away.
Carry me to I know not where,
I know not how,
I know not when.
My God!
It’s here.
And I am . . . gone . . . .
TYMON 85
CLOSING THOUGHTS
TYMON 86
THE SWEETEST WALTZ
They came to the Royal Castle,

To the huge and splendid hall,
Kings and queens, dukes and duchesses,
To attend His Majesty’s Ball.
Throughout the night they partied,

With food, and drink, and song,
And danced to festive music,
Then left before the dawn.
Some say the dance was over,

Gone dancers, musicians, all.
And yet some say, the Sweetest Waltz,
Was played, after the ball
A gray-haired cleaning lady

Slowly mopped the floor
And heard the waltz within her soul,
The band had played before.
She laid aside the bucket,

Laid aside the pail,
And closed her eyes to listen,
To the music’s magic tale.
Slowly she twirled upon the floor,

To music soft and low,
And swirled at the music in her soul,
And dreamed of long ago.
Dreamed of a handsome lover,

Of a a waltz they used to play,
And with a smile on her face,
She danced the night away.
TYMON 87
The sun rose bright next morning,

She wondered if the dream was false,
Yet danced along, as she sang a song,
And that song was the Sweetest Waltz.
Some say the dance was over,

Gone dancers, musicians, all.
And yet some say, the Sweetest Waltz,
Was played, after the ball.
TYMON 88
THE PLAY IS NEVER OVER
You think the play is over,

when the final curtain falls.
And the actors leave in smiles,
after taking curtain calls.
But there’s just a touch of magic
in these now empty halls,
And the play is never over,
though the final curtain falls.
Memories will dance forever

upon that magic stage.
And there’s the leading lady
who was once society’s rage.
In front, the world’s musicians
quickly turn a page,
And if you look more carefully,
It’s not an empty stage.
I do believe it’s Shakespeare,

standing over to the right.
And yonder, why, it's Cyrano,
sword ready for a fight.
Sure, up above, there’s Peter Pan,
Frozen in mid-flight.
And look at all the dancers,
twirling in the fading light.
Tell me, is that Gabby,

standing on a desert stage?
Does the poem that she’s reading
have tears upon the page?
Surely looks like George and Lennie,
Walking back beyond the sage.
No, the play is never over,
and there is no empty stage.
TYMON 89
All the lights are slowing dimming,

so I guess it’s time to go.
Though I hear some music playing
a waltz I used to know.
Yet how beautiful that magic stage,
With the curtain closing slow.
Yes, the play is never over,
Ah, hear, “ON WITH THE SHOW!”
TYMON 90
RAINBOWS AND BUTTERFLIES
Rainbows and Butterflies,

And flowers abound.
Twinkling stars fill our skies,
Green grass all around.
Midst all the old world’s troubles,
Thank God these still are found,
Rainbows and Butterflies,
And Flowers abound.
TYMON 91
THEY SAY THAT THERE’S A HEAVEN
They say that there’s a Heaven,

So they say,
And there we’ll be together
If we pray.
And yet it seems so many
Go astray.
So they say.

So they say,
And the streets are paved with Gold,
Where children play.
Where the problems of this life
Are far away.
So they say.

So they say.
And before it’s gate we’ll meet,
On Judgment Day.
Friends and family we shall meet there,
So I pray.
As God leads us into Heaven,
On that day.
TYMON 92
SHE'S SINGING ALL THE OLD SONGS FOR ME,

THE ONES I HOLD CLOSE IN MEMORY,
TO OTHERS THEY ARE GONE,
FOR ME THEY LINGER ON,
FOR SHE'S SINGING ALL THE OLD SONGS FOR ME.
"ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME,

LET ME HIDE MYSELF IN THEE . . . "
SHE'S SINGING THE SONGS I KNEW SO LONG AGO,

THE ONES I STILL HEAR WITHIN MY SOUL,
IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT,
OR THE CALM OF SOFT MOONLIGHT,
SHE'S SINGING ALL THE OLD SONGS FOR ME.
"OH, COME TO THE CHURCH IN THE WILDWOOD,

OH COME TO THE CHURCH IN THE VALE,
NO PLACE IS SO DEAR TO MY CHILDHOOD,
AS TH' LITTLE BROWN CHURCH IN TH' VALE."

FROM THE PAGES OF ANCIENT HISTORY,
OF A LADY AND HER BEAU,
IN THE DAYS OF LONG AGO,
"BEYOND BONNIE BANKS,

AND BEYOND BONNIE BRAES,
WHERE THE MOON SHINES BRIGHT ON LOCH LOMOND,
I AND MY TRUE LOVE SHALL NE'ER MEET AGAIN,
ON TH' BONNIE, BONNIE BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND."
TYMON 93

SOME SWEET, SOME TINGED WITH TRAGEDY,
OF A LAND SO FAR AWAY,
OF A LOVE OF YESTERDAY,
"IN LINCOLN TOWN WHERE I WAS BORN,

TH' PLACE WHERE I WAS DWELLING,
THERE LIVED A MAID, A FAIR YOUNG MAID,
HER NAME WAS BARBARA ELLEN."

HOW THEY ECHO OF THE TIMES THAT USED TO BE,
AS WE WALKED ALONG THE LANE HAND IN HAND,
AS ON HER FINGER I PLACED A WEDDING BAND,
"DOWN IN THE VALLEY, VALLEY SO LOW,

LATE IN THE EVENING, HEAR THE TRAIN BLOW.
HEAR THE TRAIN BLOW, Lovd, HEAR THE TRAIN BLOW,
LATE IN THE EVENING, HEAR THE TRAIN BLOW.”

IN MY DREAMS I KISS HER LIPS SO TENDERLY,
THOUGH I KNOW THAT SHE IS GONE,
STILL IN MY SOUL SHE LINGERS ON,
"ROSES LOVE SUNSHINE, VIOLETS LOVE DEW,

ANGELS IN HEAVEN, KNOW I LOVE YOU.
KNOW I LOVE YOU , LOVE, KNOW I LOVE YOU,
ANGELS IN HEAVEN, KNOW I LOVE YOU."

TYMON 94
WHERE THE GOLDEN RIVERS FLOW
Some folks dream of Heaven,

As a place they'd long to go,
And tarry with the angels,
Where the Golden Rivers flow.
My sweetheart's there in Heaven,

Where there's neither cold nor snow,
And dreams amidst the flowers,
Whether I'll reach Heaven,

Only God can know,
'Til in my arms I hold her,
There are no wars in Heaven,

There the winds of war don't blow,
And I'll do no more asoldierin',
And yet I dream of Heaven,

Though I dwell here below,
From the battlefield He'll take me,
Thank God there's a Heaven,

Where we reap what we sow,
And there ain't no war in Heaven,
CHORUS

Where the Golden Rivers flow,
And tarry with the angels,
TYMON 95
MY GIFT
When days are hard,

And solace rare
May comfort ever
Be your share
If sorrow oftimes
Comes your way
Take a short moment,
Then, to pray
The blackest clouds

And wildest wind,
Your smile and song
Will quickly end
And when those clouds

All melt away,
The sun is there
To light the day
And rainbows, too,

Will light the sky,
Bring laughter to
Both lip and eye
Sunshine of a morning,
Bright moon gives its light,
Peace as you slumber,
In dark of the night
Sweet kisses and hugs,

With those that you love,
And the blessing of God
From the Heavens above.
TYMON 96
These I bequeath thee

As much as I can,
And everything else
I leave in God’s hand
TYMON 97
THANK YOU
FOR READING “PASSION.”
I HOPE IT HAS PROVIDED YOU WITH PLEASURE,
AND WITH SERIOUS THOUGHTS ABOUT THE WORLD IN
WHICH WE LIVE
PLEASE SEND COMMENTS OR CRITICISMS
TO
FRANK TYMON
4749 W. K-12 AVE.
QUARTZ HILL, CA 93536-5146
OR
EMAIL TO
frank@qnet.com
PLEASE TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT US
YOUR SUPPORT MAKES

WRITING A PLEASURE.
PLEASE VISIT MY HOMEPAGE, OFTEN,
http://www.av.qnet.com/~frank/
TYMON 98
BOOKS BY FRANK TYMON
Name Your Child for Success;
Raise Your Child for Success;
Beyond Aurora-- Dreamship;
Legend of a Star-Crossed Love;
Internet English, World Wide Web, Ecommerce and International Trade;
The Other Astronaut (novelette)
THE THIRD ANGEL
The Totalitarians;
The Lean Machine;
God Damn Bike Rider and Other Outcasts;
The Confessions of Master B.I. Got, Esquire;
A COMAL COLLAGE;
How To Program the Home Computer for Fun and Profit;
HELLIONS & HEROES
PASSION
DARK SECRETS – HELL’S HIGHWAY
frank@qnet.com;
http://www.av.qnet.com/~frank/
Frank Tymon
4749 W. K-12 Ave.
Quartz Hill, CA 93536-5146
TYMON 99
TYMON 100
BIOGRAPHY
Born 1928, Ossinning, New York. Three brothers, one sister.
Raised on a farm in Poor Hollow, Tennessee.
Attended Harbor Academy, (a one room school during the week, and a
church on Sunday.)
Bachelor’s degree in mathematics, Master’s degree in Engineering
Management, Doctorate courses in Organization Theory.
Married three times, always to the same woman. Four children, four
grandchildren.
Served in the Navy as enlisted man; in the Air Force as enlisted man, Aviation
Cadet, and officer during the Korean War, on B-29 aircraft.
After the Korean War worked in geophysics and attended school.
Volunteered for active duty when the Vietnam War began.
Retired from the Air Force as Lt. Colonel.
Worked in aerospace with the Air Force, NASA and with industry, on the B-
1, B-2, F-16, and C-17 systems.
Currently active in community activities and in writing.

TYMON 101
PASSION
TYMON 102
POETRY
OF
FRANK TYMON
TYMON 103

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TYMON 1

(copyright 2004, Frank Tymon)

SULFUR, MOLASSES AND SASSAFRAS TEA

A LAND CALLED FARAWAY

WHERE MY HEROES USED TO RIDE

A BROKEN DREAM IN NEW YORK TOWN

FOREVER WAS A SHORT, SHORT TIME

BRIDGE OF BROKEN DREAMS

THE WILD ONE

LOVELY LONESOME EYES

THERE WAS A TIME

AIN'T TH' HAVIN', ITS TH' GETTIN'

THE BLOODY BUCCANEER

THE GOD DAMN BIKE RIDER

I RIDE THE WHITE LINE

THE TATTERED FLAG

BUCK, ZEKE, JOE AND I

DARK NIGHT IN THE CROWS-NEST

THE HILL TO DIE ON

THEY CALL HER THE HANGAR QUEEN

WELCOME HOME, SOLDIER

THE MOUNTAINS OF KOREA

THIS PRAYER IS FOR OUR VETERANS

A LAMENT FOR RUBY RIDGE

SPOTTED OWL STEW

WHEN THE CHILDREN OF WACO DIED

THREE DAYS OF DREAD

I RECKON THERE'S A RAINBOW

THANK GOD FOR THESE COUNTRY MEMORIES

THE FIDDLIN’ FOOL

NO ONE SANG THE BLUES

THE BALLAD OF RAJ MATTEL

THE MASTER OF OLDEN WOOD

THE SWEETEST WALTZ

THE PLAY IS NEVER OVER

RAINBOWS AND BUTTERFLIES

THEY SAY THAT THERE’S A HEAVEN

SHE'S SINGING ALL THE OLD SONGS FOR ME

WHERE THE GOLDEN RIVERS FLOW

BOOKS BY FRANK TYMON

To think thoughts never thought,

To do Deeds never Done,

To scale Heights never scaled,

This is the Duty laid upon man.

And with God’s help,

Each shall do his share.

On silver wings of fantasy

On vaunted trips beyond one’s dreams

Over seas of gentle blue,

Come fly with me, and tarry long,

SULFUR, MOLASSES AND SASSAFRAS TEA

When I was young, back in Tennessee,

Now, I have tasted stuff what was worse,

Well, I swallowed it down, without much glee,

Now I’m a tad older, and turning gray,

‘Cause, though I thought it’d be the death of me,

Sulfur, molasses and sassafras tea.

A LAND CALLED FARAWAY

There is a land called Faraway,

Where time is told by tinkling bells.

I’ve never been to Faraway,

Not true -- long, long ago,

By time so gently led away,