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OLD AGE

     Old age is creeping up on us like an early morning fog.  Old 
joints stiffen like frozen long-johns hung on the clothesline on a 
nippy winter day.  They seem to squeak like a dry wagon axle 
or like the ancient rusty water pump in the back yard.
     Chores that once seemed a snap, now are mountains instead 
of mole hills, more up hill than down.
     Our parts seem to misfunction, malfunction and wear out.  
Repairs or replacements are continuous and costly.  Our 
doctor's face is the most familiar of all our acquaintances.
     The warranty on our memory has run out; our thoughts are 
no longer subject to recall.  And they don't make replacement 
parts.
     But there is one redeeming feature about this universal 
problem.  As the old junkers are scrapped out, there is a whole 
assembly line of new models, vastly improved, ready to replace 
them.


By Ray Prillwitz

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A PROUD MONTANAN


I love to walk at early dawn,
To watch the morning turning on;
And view the sunrise in the east,
Awaking flower, bird, and beast.

The lofty mountains, peaks all snowy,
And rushing rivers, ever flowing.
To feel soft breezes, their caresses;
Ridding self of pain and stresses.

I see the beauty God does share,
It true surrounds me everywhere;
The big blue sky, each fleecy cloud,
They all combine to make me proud....

TO BE MONTANAN!

by Ray Prillwitz

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THE DEPARTURE


Quietly it sits there, its wheels are on the track.
Passengers are boarded, the luggage in the racks.
Friends who wish them "bon voyage" are standing by the rail;
Freightmen carry baggage, while others stow the mail.

The engineer, with strip-ed cap, ascends the Iron Horse.
The fireman and the brakeman complete the driving force.

Coal and water loaded, the steam is building high;
The train at last is ready, it's time to say good-bye.

"Board" yells the conductor, as he closes up the door.
He sees the seats are occupied, there isn't room for more.
Then a quick toot of the whistle, and a sudden blast of steam;
The brakeman waves his lantern, as from the train he leans.

With a "chuff-chuff" from the engine, the wheels begin to turn.
The tender's filled up to the top, with lots of coal to burn.
As the fireman stokes the fire with fuel, the sparks fly from the stack,
And we watch it leave the station, as it steams on down the track.

by Ray Prillwitz

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NOVA


It's dark, so dark;
I'm all alone in here.
I'm being held,
But not against my will.
Comfortable,
I hear the even beat.
Bouncy, bouncy;
I think I'll sleep awhile.

I'm being squeezed;
The pressure is so great!
I'm being pushed,
But not against my will.
A quick release!
The pressure's gone at last!
Freedom, freedom;
I think I'll look around.

It's light, so light;
The brightness hurts my eyes.
I'm being held,
But not against my will.
Comfortable,
The nectar fills my lips.
Bouncy, bouncy;
I think I'll sleep awhile.

by Ray Prillwitz
(A new life)

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MY POETRY


My poems are not penned for scholars;
Professors could pick them apart.
But I simply use every-day English,
And it comes to you straight from my heart.

It may not be elegant, fancy or couth,
And it may oft be "corny" at times;
But I write for the pleasure of every-day folks,
And I hope that you like what I rhyme.

by Ray Prillwitz

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PLEASE LOVE ME


How can you kill me?
I want to be born.
I don't want to die,
My life rudely shorn.

How can you kill me,
When you are my mom?
I want to be cuddled,
And held in your arms.

How can you kill me,
When God gave me form?
He gave me my heartbeat
So I could be born.

How can you kill me,
And your conscience be clear?
Your guilt will stay with you,
For many a year.

Rethink your decision,
Don't destroy me in fear;
I want you to love me;
Please, oh please, mommy dear!

by Ray Prillwitz

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THE SUN


Good morning sun, my thanks to you
For lighting up the day.
I'm glad you make the effort,
To chase the gray away.

Your friend, the moon, is also kind;
He gives me evening light.
But his efforts don't compare with yours,
(He's really not too bright?)

You sometimes give my body pain,
Your rays at times are hot;
I brown, then redden, and I burn,
And then I peel a lot!

At times, it's good to see some clouds,
And even drops of rain.
They cool me off, and give relief
From over-tanning pain.

Don't get me wrong;  I can't deny
That much of all my fun,
Would surely be impossible,
Without my friend, the sun!

by Ray Prillwitz

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UPTOWN DINER



I stopped in at the diner,
To get a bite to eat.
I moved up to the window,
To get my favorite seat.

Just looking at the menu,
Made juices start to flow.
It all looked so delicious,
My eyes began to glow.

The waitress brought my coffee;
By then I'd lost my voice.
And with a shaking finger,
I pointed at my choice.

Coffee's good for sipping,
And I can take it neat;
But when I get real hungry,
I need to eat some meat.

So I ordered up a tasty meal,
With ice cream on the side.
And I left the Uptown Diner,
Completely satisfied!

by Ray Prillwitz

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WAIKIKI BEACH

        It was cold!  
It was bitterly cold.  His breath hung suspended on the 
quiet air.  His teeth were chattering like magpies, and not 
only from the cold.  His fright was so real it felt like a vise, 
slowly, but steadily tightening, almost squeezing the small 
flicker of life from his numb body.  He had been abandoned 
to this lifeless atmosphere by the carelessness of his 
companions.
        There was no one to help extricate him from this 
inevitable calamitous finale.  As he fought to stave off the 
enveloping paralysis of sleep now gripping him, he shook 
himself, trying to keep from nodding off, knowing full well 
that if he let go of his senses, he would never awaken.
        The fear of death was strong.  He tried to push the 
thought of it from his mind.  He tried to imagine the warm 
sun on the beach of Waikiki and it's soft glow, warming him.  
Gradually he floated away, away....
        Suddenly he heard someone calling out to him.  
"Come on son; wake up.  You are lucky to be alive.  It sure 
was fortunate for you that your co-worker went back into the 
locked cold storage room to pick up his house keys he had 
left there."  
        It sure was great to see the smiling face of the 
white-coated doctor.  It was even better than the beaches of 
Waikiki!

by Ray Prillwitz

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I WANT YOU TO KNOW
(It's The Message)



I enjoy the composing of poems I pen,
And I surely don't write for the plaudits of men;
I pray that each thought and each message imparts
The deep-rooted feelings, that come from my heart.

My wish is that someone, in reading these lines,
Will take from my thoughts something helpful and fine.
If they help draw him closer to knowing my Lord,
I'll accomplish my aim, in proclaiming God's Word.

If the things that I write are not truly succinct;
If the meaning lies hidden in paper and ink;
I hope you'll just ask me, whenever the time;
I'll be glad to explain all the truths that I rhyme.

by Ray Prillwitz

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My Morning Walk
   

I love to walk at early morn
When the air is fresh and sweet;
And greet the day, in a healthy way,
On the shaded, tree-lined streets.

I watch the friendly squirrels play
And I hear the songbirds sing;
I wave to an elderly lady,
As she glides on her front porch swing.

I stick to the shade when the day is hot,
And the sunny spots when it's cool;
But I mostly meander the neighborhoods
Where quiet and peace are the rule.

I know I can't do ev'rything I desire.
At some things I might have to cease;
But one thing I'll always be sure to retain,
Is my time of pure pleasure and peace.

by Ray Prillwitz

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MY NIFTY NOSE


I'm glad the Creator, in wisdom,
Gave each of us humans a nose.
Just think what we'd miss if we couldn't
Smell the wondrous sweet scent of a rose.

The "wake-up" aroma of coffee, just brewed,
And out-of-the-oven fresh bread;
The mouth-watering smell of roast turkey or ham;
With no nose, we'd just see it, instead.

I'd miss the apple blossom scent,
And the salty ocean breeze;
The musty smell of fresh-turned earth,
And the pungent, green pine trees.

To see, to hear, to taste, to feel;
That's important, I suppose;
But I know I'd never be complete,
Without a sniffy, nifty, nose.

by Ray Prillwitz

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OUR MONTANA CABIN


It is plain, not too fancy, with not many frills;
Our Montana cabin, way back in the hills.
But we spent hours in planning and we built it with love
With the pine trees around it, and the big sky above.

We fashioned a shower and built us a swing
And had us a view that was fit for a king.
With a porch along one side, closed in by a rail,
We now had for certain, the world by its tail!

How magnificent the nights of the star-studded skies;
And how awesome the sight as the full moon did rise.
The morning brought sunrise from over the way,
As we stood on the porch, there to welcome the day.

We watched the ground squirrels, the marmots at play;
The Pileated woodpeckers, the finch and the jay.
Wild turkeys that gobbled and strutted along;
And especially the mule deer, the doe and her fawn.

We walked through the woods, wild flowers around;
The wind through the trees, what a comforting sound!
We shouldered the chores and chopped up the wood,
And did all the fixing, as proud owners should.

But with time passing by, old age took its toll;
It cripples our bodies, but never our souls.
We shall always remember the joys and the thrills,
At our Montana cabin, way back in the hills.

by Ray Prillwitz

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Why I Bowl


Bowling keeps me happy,
Bowling makes me glad;
Bowling gives me energy
I never knew I had.

I now have friends at bowling
That I never had before.
I exercise while having fun,
And my muscles don't get sore.

Forget old age and aches and pains,
Just leave your cares behind;
And join with me at bowling,
We'll have a real good time!

by Ray Prillwitz

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They Have Left Us



We’ve lost a lot of bowling friends;
Who won’t be back to bowl.
They left this life too suddenly,
No more a ball to roll.

When illness overtook them,
They always had our prayers.
And when the breath of life was gone,
We had to shed some tears.

They left a gap that’s hard to fill,
Their memories linger on.
We’ll cherish time we spent with them,
Even now that they are gone.

So lets just pause, a moment, now,
To reminisce their names,
And in our minds, relive those times,
As we bowled those pleasant games.

By Ray Prillwitz

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To My Friends at Cardiac Rehab


I’m grateful for the time I spent
In cardiac rehab.
It built me up and gave me strength, 
And insurance paid the tab.

To those of you who shared that time
Of exercise with me,
I thank you for your friendly talk
And pleasant repartee.

I’m glad you shared your needs and cares
And listened to my own;
It helps to know that others ail,
And I am not alone.

To Marge and Janey…many thanks!
I’m grateful for your care.
For expertise, for gracious help,
And for the love you share.

Now as we part, we’re all concerned
How each of us will fare.
I’ll pray for you and hope you all
Will keep me in your prayers.

By Ray Prillwitz

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Our CFR Trip to Seaside



There’s a big bunch of old folks, tested and tried,
Who are headed for Oregon, to a place called Seaside.
Not a soul seems to know just why we are going, 
But so far there’s no sign that any are slowing.

There are walkers and bowlers and those who can swim;
There are others, more daring, working out in a gym.
Aerobics with music with twisting and bending
Is a popular form for those who’re contending.

One uses a walker, another a cane.
One may need assistance with breathing, or pain.
Some need a rest break, some have to go slow,
And each one is an amateur, not one is a pro.

We all have some problems, that’s easy to see.
But in spite of the problems, we all do agree
That we’ll all keep a-tryin’; we’ll all do our best,
No matter how often we’re put to the test.

We’ll keep our eyes steady, our mind on the dream,
And with our nose to the grindstone, go ahead at full steam.
And then when we get there, we’ll say with a smile,
For the efforts expended, it was surely worth-while.

by Ray Prillwitz
October 2000

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THE MEASURE OF LOVE


It takes a ton of true resolve
To make solutions sure.
Prevention needs a single ounce
For every pound of cure.

A very tiny mustard seed
Of faith is all we need.
Distrust can rear its ugly head
By sowing just a seed.

It surely takes a very few
To make a pack of lies.
We count our blessings one by one,
No matter what the size.

It only takes a single tear
To show that we are sad;
And maybe two or three big smiles
Will show that we are glad.

But when it comes to measuring love,
Our counting must be artful;
It's the only thing I've ever known
That's measured by the heartful.

by Ray Prillwitz
February 2002

But She Was a Teacher



She had a wart on the end of her nose;
About as big as a wart ever grows.
But she was a teacher,
A well-informed creature,
And we’ll never know why, I suppose.

It was hard on the first day of school.
As the kids, they just stared, as a rule.
But as they were learning,
Their respect she was earning,
And they found she was nobody’s fool.

She could sing with a voice sweet as honey,
And be serious, charming, or funny.
And she taught them to read,
And on knowledge to feed,
And her good disposition was sunny.

The children were taught, I suppose,
Their respect for their teacher just rose;
And with lessons to learn,
They forgot their concern
For the wart on the end of her nose.

by Ray Prillwitz
March 2002