The Blind Date

Seven years ago I

had a blind date,

now to my credit

she’s become my mate.

It’s hard to believe

seven years gone by,

so much has happened

in the blink of an eye.

many things have changed

along the way,

both good and bad

but we’re here to stay.

Of the good times

I have fond memories,

I’m sure the future

has even more deliveries.

As always the case

There’s the other side,

the pluses and minuses

like the oceans tide.

For myself I’m sad

and sorry to admit,

I lost my job and

because I wouldn’t quit.

Though not my fault

or being in the wrong,

there’s no denying it

hurt our love song.

As for my love

the woman of my life,

I’m glad she’s there

and I can call her my wife.

It saddens me to say

she’s put on some weight,

so much I fear she’ll

never again be my date.

And yes it’s true

she still has her smokes,

I hate the price we

all pay for her tokes.

Her health is not good

varying day to day,

and some might ask

“why do you stay?”

The answer’s not easy but

I can tell you this,

if she were gone my

life would have no bliss.

With all our problems

we still have our love,

maybe with more time

we’ll be blessed from above.

The reason we’re together

is quiet simple you see,

my love for this woman

makes her so important to me.

Gary R. Cramer

July 30, 1987

Gary R. Cramer

July 30, 1987

The Gunslinger

I’m a gunslinger

it ain’t plain to see,

but don’t be afraid

there’s no reason to be.

My aim is straight

a real killer true,

just keep prayin

my target ain’t you.

Most look at me

an they just shy away,

and never a one

has dared to stay.

I should go down

in those history books,

as the man who won

but seldom earned looks.

I’ve searched for the worthy

both far and wide,

to be my equal

to ride at my side.

The kills are there

so very plain to see,

but the totals don’t match

but they show on me.

The true gunslinger

walks with a gait,

always on the alert

still tempting fate.

With a life like this

no wonder I’m alone,

so much damage

so very little shone.

Proof of my kills

don’t show many notches,

alas there’s only one

shadowed with blotches.

But wait you say

how can it be,

not a gunslinger

surely not me.

With only one notch

I have little to show,

such a weak claim

what’s there to know.

Lets look again

how can that be,

the kills were real

but they were always me.

When I go out

I’m not looking for a fight,

in search of some love

and so seldom in sight.

My search the same

always from the start,

not looking to harm

but to capture a heart.

I never wanted

a gunslinger to be,

a lover not a fighter

so what’s wrong with me.

What you can’t know

though my kills are real,

at the end of the trail

only emptiness I feel.

So many times

a broken heart scattered,

but not of others

it’s mine that’s shattered.

So if you see me approach

there’s no reason to flee,

because the broken heart

is always within me.

No need to rush

please don’t scurry,

with so many kills

there’s only one to bury.

I’m a gunslinger

it ain’t plain to see,

but don’t be afraid

there’s no reason to be.

Gary R. Cramer

November 16, 2014

Memories, Part 1

Pictures so fleeting

they come and they go,

of a lonely childhood

such a long time ago.

Memories of joy

and a share of fears,

bits and pieces

from those many years.

A family of four

and then we were three,

traveling down a road

that no one could see.

I recall a time

maybe I was five,

we followed dad north

where he worked in a dive.

It must have been Winter

because I remember the rain,

a tiny motel room where

she left me with tears that would stain.

She said she’d be back

she wouldn’t be long,

I stood on the seat

watching until she was gone.

Through the bathroom window

on a toilet I stood,

crying and screaming

knowing it didn’t feel very good.

It was dark and cold

and the rain came down,

she walked to a bar

in some strange town.

She had tracked him down

I don’t know how,

but she went to see him

and I was all alone now.

For a little boy

it was a terrible time,

trying to be brave

amidst the motel grime.

I fell asleep all curled up

on the floor in a ball,

I heard her come in

but she wasn’t happy at all.

She picked my up

and put me to bed,

she said she loved me

and that was all that was said.

The next day came

with no warming sun,

she said it’s alright

and we’d have some fun.

Later that day

we went to the bar,

where he worked pouring drinks

there were eggs in a jar.

He gave me a hug

with tears in his eyes,

while mom just smiled

and gave a big sigh.

He made me a drink

it was something pink,

a Roy Rogers

he called it I think.

He gave me some coins

and set me at a game,

as bears went back and forth

I’d shoot them with my aim.

Each time I’d hit them

they would give out a roar,

and I’d yell at my dad

daddy I got more.

He gave me a bowl of special cherries

when I was finally done,

I told mom she was right

we were having fun.

I can’t remember

when we came back home,

if we were all together

or mom and me alone.

All I know in the end

is that my dad came home,

and nights in my bed

I didn’t feel so alone.

That’s just one memory

I recall in my past,

there was good and bad

they would never last.

Some have told me

I was abused as a child,

now both parents are dead

the past seems so mild.

I wish the years had given

us more time to share,

because family is important

and missed when not there.

For better or worse

they gave it their all,

they did their best

better than nothing at all.

Pictures so fleeting

they come and they go,

of a lonely childhood

such a long time ago.

Gary Cramer

October 11, 2009