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Idol Gossip
My Girl, tell me, what am I to do?
I love you so much, I just don’t want to share you:
But, every time you get a call from an old flame song;
I go so crazy, I could scream your name out in the hall.
Long Tall Sally, O’ Donna, Peggy Sue,
Proud Mary, Sweet Cherry, Suzie Q,
Gloria, Little Sister, Linda Lou,
Heart and Soul of Rock ‘n Roll.
I’m in love with you.
At a movie, to a dance, for a drive, a kiss or two:
Best friends and lovers; ain’t nothing we wouldn’t do.
A True Romance novel’s got nothing on we two;
That’s what friends are for, tried and true.
My name on your lips is the song I long to hear:
To the tune of “I love you”; music to my ears.
This life’s a small town, and Idol Gossip makes the
news.
Now everybody knows I’m in love with you.
By Terry Lee ©1988
My Girl, tell me, what am I to do?
I love you so much, I just don’t want to share you:
But, every time you get a call from an old flame song;
I go so crazy, I could scream your name out in the hall.
Long Tall Sally, O’ Donna, Peggy Sue,
Proud Mary, Sweet Cherry, Suzie Q,
Gloria, Little Sister, Linda Lou,
Heart and Soul of Rock ‘n Roll.
I’m in love with you.
At a movie, to a dance, for a drive, a kiss or two:
Best friends and lovers; ain’t nothing we wouldn’t do.
A True Romance novel’s got nothing on we two;
That’s what friends are for, tried and true.
My name on your lips is the song I long to hear:
To the tune of “I love you”; music to my ears.
This life’s a small town, and Idol Gossip makes the
news.
Now everybody knows I’m in love with you.
By Terry Lee ©1988
The Painter and the Poet
The Painter and the Poet met on one fine day:
One was contemplating sorrow; the other, contemporary clay.
In passing conversation; they struck a deal between the two:
“You come pose for me, and I’ll compose for you.”
We belong together;
And, together, we belong.
We long to be together;
And, we’ll be together long.
One said “I’ll paint you a story in words and rhymes:
And, you show me a picture of dots and lines.”
“Why don’t we get together, and do as artist do:
You compose for me, and I’ll come pose for you.”
We belong together;
And, together, we belong.
We long to be together;
And, we’ll be together long.
They each took plain white linen; as clean as it could be:
On each, one put the other, for all the world to see.
And, each gave to each other: a Gift of Love, for free;
“I’ll come pose for you” and, “You compose for me”
By Terry Lee ©1988
The Painter and the Poet met on one fine day:
One was contemplating sorrow; the other, contemporary clay.
In passing conversation; they struck a deal between the two:
“You come pose for me, and I’ll compose for you.”
We belong together;
And, together, we belong.
We long to be together;
And, we’ll be together long.
One said “I’ll paint you a story in words and rhymes:
And, you show me a picture of dots and lines.”
“Why don’t we get together, and do as artist do:
You compose for me, and I’ll come pose for you.”
We belong together;
And, together, we belong.
We long to be together;
And, we’ll be together long.
They each took plain white linen; as clean as it could be:
On each, one put the other, for all the world to see.
And, each gave to each other: a Gift of Love, for free;
“I’ll come pose for you” and, “You compose for me”
By Terry Lee ©1988
| Indian Tree I was born a Cowboy; not too far form that old Indian Tree. Thanks to my Mom and Dad: there was no other choice for me. You may wonder what and where it is; and how it got its name: Of all the owners come and gone; it’s always called the same. I know little copper-skinned boys once played amid its limbs. My grandpa told me so: he heard it from his father, Benjamin. Like arrowheads lost or abandoned, long ago, among the leaves: Strange; how thoughts come back; when I think of the Indian Tree. We never needed to feed or water it; Mother Nature saw to that. Of all the times I’ve had to go; it’s what kept me coming back. It was here before I came, and it will be there when I’m gone. Of all that I’ve forgotten; it’s the thought that lingers on. I had a wild-eyed horse who’d answer a redbird whistle for me. He may have been just a bronco but he was good honest company. He’d go over a cliff; if I asked him: this I did once or twice. He never hesitated: we both thought it necessary at the time. It’s kind of like these pages of paper; if you hadn’t seen it: Not knowing they were made from a tree; then, who’d believe it. As the branches sway like a horse’s tail; wind music played free: And he and I, both ate and slept, in dreams around Indian Tree. It has shaded many a weary Wrangler; this I can say at first hand. I wasted away the heat of the day with R.I.P., Robert and Dan. And, I’ve ridden with Texas Rangers and Capt. Flood of Co. B. I’ve even been called an Outlaw: for defending my right to be. Not a word of what I’ve said is less that the truth be known. I was much older than my time, then; with no place else to go. Oh, the stories it could tell us; if we could jog its memory: For I am one of those souls who found peace near Indian Tree. So that’s how we came to be; and now how it is with me and you. Many a good man knows, you’ve got to go look for something new. A Cowboy sings, a song of his Life, his Loves, and his Ladies. I drank from the cup of wisdom of each, living only on “Maybe”. How does one put so many years into just a few lines or two? O tell a story of my whole life: what words could I choose? I’d have to say; “it was Love”; that made a difference to me: And the girl in the moonlight; I had both beneath the Indian Tree. By Terry Lee ©1991 |
| These are a few of the fine works from Milo Rosebud the publisher of Lone Stars Magazine.. Your poems could end up here as well.. Keep sending in your work and if your poem is selected you will see it posted here.. Thanks from all of us at Lone Stars Magazine for your patronage.. Feel free to drop us a line.. |
| The Poetry Magazine for Poets |
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| A GIFT It would be so pleasing to be pleasing you; From now on, that’s all I’m gonna do. The Gift is in the giving my Love to You; I’ll be the thought that counts, always thinking of you. It would be so pleasing to be pleasing you: You, please, me; and I’ll please you. I’ll be your tea party, I’ll be your candy store; I’ll be your window to the world, I’ll be your open door. I’ll be your dress-up day, I’ll be your show ‘n tell; I’ll be your movie’s star, I’ll be your wishing well. I’ll be your every anniversary, I’ll be your birthday boy; I’ll be your ticket for the show, I’ll be your favorite toy. I’ll be the song in your heart, I’ll be what you’re living for: I’ll be your everything, And more, more, more. By Terry Lee © Copyrite c 1988 Terry Lee |
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