Steven Robert Heine

STEVEN ROBERT HEINE

America's Poet

About STEVEN ROBERT HEINE:

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY of STEVEN ROBERT HEINE is available only at Booksmart Book Store, 4908 River Rd N. Keizer, OR or at: mailto:booksmart@qwest.net

Steven Robert Heine's HISTORY OF THE OREGON STATE FAIR has been published by Arcadia Publishing. You can buy it now at: Amazon. Just enter: Steven Robert Heine into the Amazon site. Even if you are not from Oregon, this book will inspire you. Heine has degrees in history and political science and brings a unique perspective to this important historic work.

FAVORITE LINKS:

The Bible in Chinese A site our many fine Chinese readers will enjoy!

上帝如此爱世界他给了只有他的儿子相信他被保存的那。上帝在天堂爱您和地方为您做准备。相信在耶稣和被保存。告诉朋友God'好消息; s爱。

The Bible in Russian A site for our Russian Readers!

Бог любит вас. Он приготовил место на небесах для вас. Быть спасены кровью Иисуса Христа и радуется. Читать Библию и доли спасения с друзьями и семьей. Расскажите им о любви Бога к ним также.

The Bible in Ukrainian A site for our Ukrainian Readers!

Бог любить вас. Він приготував місце в небі для вас. Шукати спасіння через кров Ісуса Христа. Читай Біблію і поділитися хорошими новинами. Розкажіть своїм друзям і родичам, що вони також можуть бути врятовані. Бог любить їх теж!

Hong Kong Poetry dot com A new site in Hong Kong by Steven Robert Heine. Local information and links.

Oregon For Fun. com an Oregon travel site. This site has become a hit! It features a different view of SRH.

America For Fun. com Cams and travel information for all of America.

Oregon Poetry Dot Com 'One of the best poetry sites in Oregon'.

Washington D.C. Poetry Dot Com Poetry news and information from our Nation's capitol.

上帝爱你。他已经为你准备在天上的地方。邀请耶稣进入你的内心和请求原谅，并受洗。网上阅读圣经，发现在香港的服务。我会看到你在天堂。耶稣死了，你和一飘柔永远。

Steven Robert Heine is one of America's leading poets. He is the author of nine volumes of poetry. He began by pitching his poetry at Fairs. Now he advises schools and Fairs around the World on how to setup poetry contests. His poetry is taught in schools around the World. We hope you enjoy the new format. We have tried to include as many poems as possible on this site.

At seventeen Steven Robert Heine was honored for heroism for saving the lives of two children in a daring rescue in Salem Oregon.

After graduating from college with two degrees, he began to immediately publish his poetry and sell it at State Fairs. Books signed in those early years continue to circulate to collectors through the internet and generate interest.

This site is created for schools and friends to find the poetry of Steven Robert Heine. We'd love to hear from you. Write us at: Steven Robert Heine

QUOTES: from Steven Robert Heine

"You can't blame a poor man for trying!"

"If you have family, tell them you love them every day. You never know when you might not get another chance. And if you don't tell them you love them, how are they going to know?"

"In Eternity we are young!"

"I have learned one thing about clams: they can hide but they can't run!"

We are getting readers from around the World! Many thanks to readers in the Netherlands! Many thanks also to friends in Ukraine! In the late 1990's hundreds of books were donated to schools around the World. This project has replaced that by providing poetry to schools for free through the internet.

If you would like to try some fun new sites by Steven Robert Heine, you might try:

Hong Kong Poetry dot com A new site in Hong Kong.

Oregon For Fun. com an Oregon travel site. This site has become a hit! It features a different view of SRH.

America For Fun. com Cams and travel information for all of America.

Oregon Poetry Dot Com 'One of the best poetry sites in Oregon'.

Washington D.C. Poetry Dot Com Poetry news and information from our Nation's capitol.

INDEX

1) FAVORITE LONG POEMS -------2) FAVORITE SHORT ROMANTIC POEMS-------3) FAVORITE SHORT POEMS 4) HUMOR--------5) POEMS FROM 'A WINTER'S HARVEST'. ----------6) POEMS FROM 'AUTUMN MAGIC' 7)POEMS FROM 'SPRING RAIN'----------8) POEMS FROM 'OF SUMMER'S LOST'--9) POEMS FROM 'THE CARPENTER'---10) CHRISTMAS POEMS--11) POEMS FROM ANGEL 12) POEMS OF EPITAPH. ALSO: FAIR POETRY CONTESTS .

Near the bottom of this page are most popular parts of the introductions to: OF SUMMER'S LOST and AUTUMN MAGIC.

1) FAVORITE LONG POEMS

In My Dreams

In my dreams

all wrongs are righted,

all sins are forgiven

all wounds are healed.

In my dreams

all lost friends are found

all loved ones are united

all pain is forgotten.

In my dreams

laughter replaces anger

smiles replace frowns

and love replaces hate and fear.

But then I awaken

and I realize that I cannot fix

everything that is broken in the World.

And I decide to try to make it

just a little better somehow.

A WEDDING POEM

This day you shall rejoice together,

for in your hearts love's spirit flows.

Stand tall and proud and walk together,

as through the years your young love grows.

The silver moment, locked in time,

when you would somehow meet...

has caused your souls to cry with joy,

and raised you to your feet.

Take now the cup of God's provision,

and drink richly through eternity.

For in His Plan from time's beginning....

your love was meant to be.

DAWN

I count the moments till I see you,

but always they are too many.

In years long lost, I starved for love,

but never had I any.

The daughters of the darkened moon,

played painful games that left me cold.

But honest eyes of rarest warmth,

have healed my wounds with love untold.

I see your smile as sunset bursts,

upon the deep blue sky.

With courage born to soar the stars...

I shed my gloom and fly!

AMERICA

In Humbletown a flag still flies.

Floating proudly in the breeze.

And down below the farm folk toil

in fields that roll like lush green seas.

A builders hammer pounds the air,

as a church is raised from virgin wood.

Three children play, not far away

in a park built where a shack had stood.

An old man looks out from his porch

exclaiming with a heavy sigh:

"America, America

long may your proud flag fly."

I WANT YOU

I want you when you're weak.

And I want you when you're strong.

I want you when your mind

is upon me all day long.

I want you when you're captured

and I want you when you're free.

I want you when you're women enough

to surrender yourself to me.

I want you when you're wild

and I want you when you're tame.

I want you when you're lost

and gently call my name.

I want you when you need me

and I want you when you don't.

I want you always to love me,

but I'll walk away if you don't.

LADY

I bathe my eyes in the beauty of your face,

and drink the warmth of your smile.

I'm charmed by the temptuous tones of your speech

and the gracefulness of your style.

The sweet vibrations that your young heart sends me,

stir hope within my soul.

My spirit awakens and leaps out toward you,

with a passion that I can't control.

I doubt that I dare be so rich

as to spend a sweet evening with you.

Still I offer my praise to the loveliest lady

that a poor man like me ever knew.

WAITING FOR THE RAIN

Broken chains on window panes,

waiting for the rain.

I think I'd like to see you,

one more time again.

Yes it's true that friendships do,

often really die.

But I just accept the fact;

I ask no one why.

Strangers make the best of friends

and friends do act so strange.

Sometimes I think, it's rather sad

the way that people change.

I'd stay right here forever

if I thought perhaps I could,

because I truly doubt 'goodbyes'

are really quite so good.

I carry with me all the love

that I once felt toward you.

And I hope that one day once,

you felt you loved me too.

A BIRTHDAY POEM

Aging I don't mind so much,

as the changes of growing old.

The girls you chase don't run so fast,

it's a dangerous sign I'm told.

You go to bed much earlier

and need to sleep in late.

You walk down to the produce store,

whenever you crave a 'date'.

You think about those starry nights

when lines rolled off your tongue.

But now the lines roll off your brow.

And you're... just not as young.

BACHELOR BLUES

My feet are quite unsteady, and I fear that I might falter.

I'm not sure that I'm ready to be taken to the alter.

The organ music chills me as I stumble down the aisle.

But I'll do this if it kills me... and I bravely fake a smile.

My bride now blushes shyly yonder at her father's shoulder.

The old man is grinning slyly and it makes my blood run colder.

I hear some women weeping (old girlfriends I'm quite certain).

For my final hour of bachelorhood now nears it's final curtain.

If I by chance forget my lines, I've plenty other lines to use.

And now that I think back on it... those might cure my BACHELOR BLUES.

The Unwanted Tenant

I rented a pad
on lake Moldytoe,
where the wildlife ran free.

I watched a cockroach
skirt across the sink,
and smiled contentedly.

Then all of a sudden
a rat spoke out loud
in a language that I understood.

He said to a mouse
as they leered up at me:
"Well, there goes the neighborhood".

Bronze Idols

Heroes
placed on pedestals,
often crumble
when they fall.

Greatly hated
for the simple fact
that they're human
after all.

I've got lots of things
I'd like to do.
And I'm doing
all I can.

But please remember
that I'm really just
a very
common man.

FACING LIFE

I should search for my POCKET WATCH,

but I just can't find the TIME.

And I need to call a BANKER, but I haven't got a DIME.

I've been meaning to enroll in a MEMORY course,

but I keep FORGETTING about it.

A friend said 'POSITIVE THINKING' would help,

but frankly you know, I DOUBT IT!

A dear lady had a BROKEN HEART

and asked me 'what to do?'

I simply smiled knowingly and handed her some GLUE.

A psychiatrist had a breakdown;

the poor man shuddered with fear.

I told him he should SEE himself and let him to a mirror.

The more I get life FIGURED OUT, the more CONFUSED I get.

I was hoping my ship would COME IN soon,

but they haven't even BUILT it yet!

SOMETIMES

Sometimes, I scold myself,

for my mumbling and stumbling and carrying on.

And I think: 'My gosh, my face is turning red again'.

And I try to hide inside myself until the embarrassment is gone.

Sometimes, when a beautiful lady stands trapped in a moment,

I stroll causally over to convince her I'm boring.

My words creek out as she smiles politely,

but my shattered pride is beyond restoring.

Sometimes, I get a feeling

that I wasn't cut out for this business of living.

I'm not hard enough or smooth enough,

and someone's always suspicious of the friendship I'm giving.

Sometimes, I want to quit,

for my heart is like a closet, dark and empty.

But then I think: 'I've done a little good at least.

And better things, maybe, are still waiting for me.'

THE CANDIDATE

His close friends huddle around him now;

it's come to this at last.

For the great campaign is over,

and all debating past.

In the midst of these few though,

his secret thoughts he shares.

Then he bids many pardons

and slips quietly downstairs.

He turns on an old television set

and sits intently before the screen;

as he thinks of his opponent

and all the people both had seen.

A thousand thoughts flash through his mind

as he hears he's 'two percent behind'.

Is it really so? What...? No, no wait!

They've brought their figures up to date!

He's leading now, but his margin is slim.

Still a wave of excitement pours over him.

Friends cry aloud from stairs above

and race to shake his hand.

He turns confused, still in his dream,

then seems to understand.

Through pink champagne the telephone,

rings meekly far away.

His great opponent greets him

with a voice as thick as clay.

'I notice that... you've nearly won...

I wish you all the best.

These past few months have sure been rough and...

gad I need a rest.

But don't forget the things I said

and echoed time again.

For even though tonight I'll loose,

let's let the people win.

And strangely then a friendship glows as weary warriors pause.

For not so different were the hopes that drew them to their cause.

ONCE A RACEHORSE

Once a racehorse born in time,

to fight against the mocking hordes.

Cursed to plow a farmer's field,

he rose to meet the race of Lords.

Beside the multitudes he stood,

stumbling, shaking at the first.

Determined ever in his quest,

his legs leaped forth with one great burst!

A thousand knights stood on their toes

to watch him duel the pious kings.

And then they wrapped him in the joy

that victory over hunger brings.

THE LOST KING

Frog eyes, mud pies and days gone by.

When I was a boy each day brought new joy

and I never knew how to cry.

Up a strawberry hill I'd climb for the thrill

and pronounce myself a king.

I'd wave my hand across the land

and command the earth to sing.

And the earth would obey and the plants would sway

and rubies would appear at my feet.

Then I'd smile with pride, feeling hungry inside

and choose a strawberry to eat.

But those days flew past and I grew old fast

and now live in crumbling health.

Though I still recall being king of all

and living in infinite wealth.

LILIES

Writing, I think is for younger men.

Whose eyes see more hope than mine.

Whose pens float freely through the night,

like cups overflowing with wine.

Writing is for dreamers, whose dreams like roses bloom.

Who hold the hearts of the World in their hands

as they sit alone in their room.

Writing is for less freer men,

who have never been chained by defeat.

Unscarred by love and courageous by habit,

they conquer each hurdle they meet.

Writing is for less wise men, who have never known great pain.

Believing in beauty as much as themselves,

they create again... and again!

So the lilies of the field do blossom in the spring.

Falling gently to the earth when they've given everything!

2) FAVORITE SHORT ROMANTIC POEMS

THANKS

'Thanks for that pretty smile of yours,

and 'thanks' for being you.

Thanks for the kind of understanding,

that till now, I never knew.

Thanks for the way you listen,

as I slowly ramble on.

And 'thanks' for your love as I draw you close,

when the rest of the World is gone.

IN COMMUNION

Lady of the sulking shadows,

I can sense your moods.

The smiles unborn,

the jealous doubts,

he icy interludes.

With tender care

I stroke your heart,

lest it somehow be broken.

In deep communion

with your soul

through words that go unspoken.

A DEEP LONGING

I wish you weren't so far away.

So horribly, terribly far.

I want very much to share your laughter...

but far away... you are.

DREAMER

Look far away

for a little while,

and tell me the dreams

that you see.

From the fountain of love

that flows from your heart,

great things will soon come to be.

A REQUEST

You cannot see

the silver seeds,

my restless soul hunts after.

But hold me now,

inspire me

with love and pain and laughter.

OASIS

You were first

to fill my glass.

Sparkling love

you freely shared.

Thousands passed

my wretched way.

But none till you,

reached down and cared.

SUNSHINE

You are in my heart

and there to stay.

Like the sunshine

you warm me,

in a special way.

YOU

What did I do...

without you?

Whatever did I DO

without you?

You brought a joy

that my

life never knew.

What did I DO

without you?

THE HUG

Is the purest,

simplest,

most longed for

act of human compassion.

Yet how many people

go for weeks without one?

Hugs are guiltless,

painless and generally delightful.

And you feel far more human

when a good hug is done.

HOPING

Somewhere the lady waits, I pray,

whose smile might stir

my sleeping pen.

It slumbered off

from loneliness,

and I can't wake it up again.

WHEN YEARS HAVE FLED

Someday love, I know not when,

but truly we shall meet again.

When years have fled unto the sea,

fate shall bring you back to me.

That day together we will recall

the 'good times' now upon us all.

And then we'll laugh and shed huge tears

for the changes brought us by the years.

And you and I will speak of days

when we were careless in our ways.

Remembering things that went unsaid,

the day before the years had fled.

DREAMS

The dreams that wake me in the dawn,

and prey upon old wounds - half healed...

Are lovers lost, whose secrets kept

are then within my mind revealed.

3) OTHER FAVORITE SHORT POEMS

ALONG THE WAY

Fame and fortune

don't amount to too much.

For what matters most

is the lives that you touch.

OCEANS

All my life,

all my emotions,

have come

rushing at me

like vast swirling oceans.

HAPPY NEW YEARS

In every year

if a man is lucky,

he'll meet two or three people

who become true friends.

And he'll set new places

at his table of feasting

as he celebrates

when at last the year ends.

LOOKING AHEAD

I talked pollytics with a pollywog

who glowed with great ambition.

He said: 'I can't wait to become a frog,

in the throat of a politician'.

HARD TIMES

The recession ruined my uncle 'Nerp'.

He walks with his back slowly bent.

He invested a million in a cologne company,

and today he hasn't a scent!

TO PASS THE TIME

I'll be famous (post mortem),

if I live that long!

But while I am waiting, I'll keep writing strong.

A SOGGY NATIVE

I'm as used to Oregon

as a duck can get.

But I still wish the rain here

wasn't quite so wet!

WORDS OF WISDOM

Never trust an 'expert'

read the words on a child's shirt.

For if he REALLY knew

what he was talking about,

he'd probably still be a 'pert'.

A MODERN POEM

The skies are full of falling stars.

Sad heroes never meant to be.

They burn so bright... so brief a time,

then plunge into the sea.

LIFE

Life itself,

is poetry.

I merely wait

for the words

to grow clear to me.

THE REAL ENEMY

I'm not afraid

of defeat at all.

But I greatly fear lacking

the courage to try.

For to fail is to proudly

display your scars.

But to do nothing reaps shame

when the future asks: 'why?'

ALONE

I miss the girl

that misses me.

Her smile I paint,

in endless songs.

I wish to God

that it would be,

that she'd stay here

where she belongs.

4) HUMOR

DONUT

Waiter!

My donut has a hole in it!

I'd like to complain to the management!

I've got a hole in my sock and a hole in my shoe

and a hole in my pants and my elbow too!

And oh, but it makes a proud man hurt,

to find a hole in the donut he's served for desert!

SECRET WEAPON

Life has its 'ups and downs' I know.

But I've learned a little trick.

The 'downs' can't hold you very long...

if you've got a pogo stick.

LOOKING BACK

Once times were when times were rotten.

Oh Lord, I had forgotten.

With laughing tears my diary,

recalls my falls to memory.

A DISTRESSING DISCOVERY

I was downtown dressed in my Sunday best,

when it was my misfortune to meet...

an old bum just about my size

who stopped me on the street.

I handed him a quarter

(for wealth is meant for sharing),

when suddenly I noticed that the bum had on...

the same suite that I was wearing.

5) Poems From A WINTER'S HARVEST

UPON A DISTANT WIND

My mind is now on fire with the restlessness of youth.

And I tell myself that I'm going away and I know that it's the truth.

These past few months I've often dreamt of places I could see.

But the time has come to dream no more for adventure beckons me.

A distant wind sweeps swiftly by and I shiver deep inside.

Then I grab my few belongings and quickly hitch a ride!

THE SEARCHER

Everybody's friend and nobody's lover;

ever a candle burns.

Somewhere within the hordes of men,

one lonely heart still yearns.

Ever a night and ever a day,

the quiet watch is kept.

Always the eye upon the way

and never a moment slept.

There come those with hearts of gold,

but not for one so poor.

And the loneliness does chill his soul

and he watches the way some more.

THE CENTURIAN

The morning sweeps around her now

in ever grayer shades.

She reaches out for yesterday.

But suddenly it fades.

She frowns and puts the coffee on

and toasts a crumb of bread.

And greets aloud the sleepy dawn

that warms her weary head.

She sets her meal upon her plate

and mutters a quiet grace.

Then slowly eats in solitude

and tidies up the place.

She glances anxiously at the clock

then fetches her cloak and cane.

And soon begins her daily walk

to the chapel and back again.

The forgotten child of a century past

she trudges slowly on.

Till death does take her home at last

to the place her friends have gone.

LADY

Lady tell your children,

about a man they never knew.

A man who still carries within him,

the love he's always had for you.

When you tuck your children in at night,

tell them stories and nursery rhymes.

And whisper of a man that you loved long ago,

in your earlier years, in the sweetest of times.

Lady tell your children

about a man they've never known.

A man who still lives in the fading past,

loving you there and forever alone.

HARVEST OF LOVE

I believe in God and He believes in me.

And He provides the inspiration for my poetry.

I didn't ask for this gift; it was quite a surprise.

But by the sweat of my brow

it will bloom in full, before His eyes.

My life is short and my goals are many.

And I fear I might die before I accomplish any.

But I hope He may find when my life is done,

a harvest of love, that my labors have won.

ONLY THE RAIN

I sit in a lonely Portland apartment

listening to the quiet rain.

And I think of my days in the City of Peace

and the friends I’ll never see again.

Why I came here people often ask

why I left home no one knows.

For only the rain understands my task

and each day my loneliness grows.

Below me a man is stricken with cough

next door a pot pusher sleeps.

And the rain trickles down a worn out spout

as beside me a cockroach creeps.

But I work on into the night

setting loneliness aside.

My typewriter clicks quietly in the room’s dim light

like a carriage on a galloping ride!

The sweat trickles down the top of my brow

as excited hands hammer on.

And such is the beauty of the birth of words

that I don’t notice the coming of dawn.

Soon there in the shadows of daylight I sit,

exhausted by my labor of love.

But my work must be finished and only then will I quit

and it’s that day I keep dreaming of.

AT SEVENTEEN

I know not where I go from here,

but pray that God might bid me well.

My youth has seemed to disappear;

what lies ahead I cannot tell.

I've walked alone these past few days

and felt the sun and talked to birds.

I've looked at life in many ways;

for what I've found there are no words......

RUPERT KING

Forever a failure who had never once won,

poor Rupert had lost in all he had done.

A pauper king who wore the crown of a dunce,

Rupert ever dreamed of winning just once.

Beside the sea upon gold twisting sands,

Rupert sat with his head in his hands.

His life flowed before him, (for what it was worth),

and he pondered his troubles

since the spank of his birth.

He searched for a challenge at which he might win.

'A feat not accomplished before or again'.

In the ocean before him the waves turned and tossed.

And it occurred to Rupert to swim across!

He arose and ran down from the shore exclaiming:

'it's not been done before!'

And the sea engulfed him with a mighty roar.

And Rupert King was last no more.

OLD MAN

Sad eyes begat his wrinkled brow;

they treat him like a child now.

An old mind searches through the haze,

for traces of the 'good old days'.

And yet all know his time is past.

The golden years are gray at last.

A HUMBLE ADMISSION

What would you say if I told you I loved you

and offered a love that was real?

Don't walk away as I humbly admit it

because that's the way that I feel.

I know we've been friends for an awfully long time now

and it'd be tragic if our friendship did end.

But I just have to tell you that I've grown so to love you,

and now need you as more than a friend.

SILENT THE CHILL

Deep is the valley,

and cold is the wind,

that blows

when love has gone.

And silent the chill;

of the midnight snow,

that cloaks tears,

that have been won.

6) Poems From AUTUMN MAGIC

MARGE

There came one cool, crisp Halloween,

a princess I had never known.

Who led me to a World I had not yet seen,

but long had hungered to be shown.

Her eyes were like the Autumn moon,

her voice like the Autumn air,

and I feared my dream would end too soon,

as I drew her close and held her there.

Like tiny, precious drops of gold

were the moments that we shared.

Embraces were exchanged and secrets told,

but real love was never dared.

For she was destined to become but a memory

and I knew I'd soon have to go.

So I told her that she'd always be a part of me...

and she always will, I know.

HARVEST OF LOVE

I believe in God and He believes in me.

And he provides the inspiration for my poetry.

I didn't ask for this gift; it was quite a surprise.

But by the sweat of my brow

it will bloom in full, before His eyes.

My life is short and my goals are many.

And I fear I might die before I accomplish any.

But I hope He may find when my life is done,

a harvest of love, that my labors have won.

MICHIGAN WELCOME

The World it seems, has slipped into it's dreams.

Weary travelers snooze into the hours.

While the Michigan landscape burst forth in it's welcome

with green trees and bright roadside flowers.

Now and then they awaken,

glancing sleepily outward, their eyes absorbing the land.

And the bus rolls onward, to new cities westward,

through a richness they can't understand.

7) Poems From SPRING RAIN

OLD FEVER

It rains outside and rains within.

Despite small joys my fever burns.

An empty mood tugs at my sleeve

and restlessness again returns.

A WORTHY PROJECT

I think I'll paint the moon today.

Before the years all sssssslip away!

IN COMMUNION

Lady of the sulking shadows,

I can sense your moods.

The smiles unborn, the jealous doubts,

the icy interludes.

With tender care, I stroke your heart,

lest it somehow be broken.

In deep communion with your soul

through words that go unspoken.

8) Poems From OF SUMMER'S LOST

MEDAL OF LAUGHTER

If I've made you happy then I've won,

a victory over sorrow done.

If knowing me has made you laugh,

then raise a toast in my behalf.

Everything that I could do, to make your load lighter for you...

I did enthusiastically, that fondly you'd remember me.

A PERSONAL NOTE

These years are very happy times,

in spite of poverty.

For I would rather starve than feast... in mediocrity!

IN THE HEAT WAVE

It's virtually too hot at night,

to put my pen to ink and write.

But cannery work is 'no man's land',

and weary flesh must understand.

KEY WEST

It was in the summer that I journeyed to the mecca,

of men of words immortal, like Hemingway and Frost.

Determinedly religious, I left by bus one morning,

to trace their tide washed footsteps, no matter what it cost.

I hoped to find their spirit where once had roamed their shadows,

to dream I walked among them... though vain my dream might be.

A peasant in the temple, possessed by great ambitions,

my heart poured forth it's secrets to the sand dunes and the sea!

SUNSET

The sun now sets

with thundering silence,

into fiery evening skies.

How many men in centuries buried,

asked if it again would rise?

OF SUMMER'S LOST

Of summer's lost and seasons crossed,

I beg my way back home.

I trod along by twilight moon

through fields of honeycomb.

The silver stars are still the same;

unchanged since boyish ponderings.

Yet it's strange that they look brighter here,

then in all my endless wonderings.

I pass a mound where lies a friend

who used to greet me at the gate.

'Old Licorice Joe' died long ago.

He met a lonely bird dog's fate.

The creek where we kids used to fish

for minnows just the size of fleas...

is shallow now and smaller too...

and I wade through with shivering knees.

I'm not sure where my buddies went

who once patrolled this rugged land.

We caught grasshoppers in our socks;

we were a most courageous band.

The law and order of the West,

was mostly won through our concern.

I'm glad to find things peaceful still,

as I the 'sheriff' now return.

But yet, I wonder what I sought?

To find out merely 'who I am?

For all the miles brought me right back,

to this heavenly World of strawberry jam.

9) Poems From THE CARPENTER

THE BEGINNING OF LOVE

Shaky starts and hopeful hearts

and dreams to soon unfold.

I don't know if strangers have a chance,

but that's what I've been told.

A RAY OF HOPE

Sometimes there is victory,

to warm my heart

in the icy hands of defeat.

As dark clouds threaten

I feel a touch of peace as I walk

yet another lonely street.

A DEEP LONGING

I wish you weren't so far away,

so horribly, terribly far.

I want very much

to share your laughter...

but far away... you are!

FADING IMAGES

Where do they go?

...the people who leave you.

And do they remember

the moments you've shared?

Can they picture your face

in the shadows of morning...

And what did they mean

when they told you they cared?

THE QUIET VOICE

I am

your memory.

And I

will always be.

IN CONCLUSION

A philosophical animal

sat sadly by the sea.

He said: 'not a single

original thought

has ever occurred to me'.

'I talk in circles

most of the time

as I walk

through the college squares.

My mind moves backwards

on an escalator

of ever emerging stairs.'

''I think. Therefore

I am', I thought.

But how can that

possibly be?

For it truly must follow

that I cease to exist

whenever I'm watching TV!'

JANET

I have met some beauties

in the journey of my lifetime.

You rank high above them

and I'm honored to have known you.

I will think about you often

as the years do fall upon me.

And hope your world grew richer

for the world that I have shown you..

LUFF EES LOCK FISHIN

Ya poot on yer boots

an ya deeg sum bait.

Den ya go to da pawn

an ya seat an waidt.

An ya waidt an seat

an seat sum more,

an purdy soon ya fergit

wha yer waiddin der for.

Den jus wen yer sneakin

a nap in da nook,

a beeeeeeg fightin mean

yumps rite on yer hook!

10) Favorite Christmas Poems

A CHILD'S ANTICIPATION OF CHRISTMAS

Sweet dream

of marshmallow cream,

Santa's on his way..

My favorite time of year

is almost here.

How I've waited for this day.

I hope I get

every kind of toy.

But I might get a little brother.

If I do

I sure hope he's a boy,

'cause I wouldn't like nothing other.

If I can't have a brother

I want a dog,

'cause dogs are just as swell.

They slobber a lot

and chew on your toys

and can even wag their tail.

If I can't have a dog

I want a bike,

like the big kid up the street has got.

'Cause the tires are thin

on my old trike.

And a small bike wouldn't weigh a lot.

And if it doesn't snow

on Christmas Eve,

then Santa can ride my bike instead of his sleigh!

But if he can't ride

I'll just take a new trike,

if it'll hurry him up some way!

A HOLIDAY

I drank a glass of egg nog

and I looked into the mirror.

And I said: 'What's a nice

pencil pusher like me,

doing hanging around here?'

I went and grabbed the tennis shoes

that were hanging on the door.

And whispered to my goldfish

that I'd probably be home by four.

I'd heard there was a party

with some crazy guys like me.

And so I strolled into the night

out of curiosity.

The snow melted like morning dew

as it fell upon my face.

And I whistled Christmas carols

as I trudged toward Kringles' place.

It was there I filled my tummy '

with cookies and champagne

And the fellowship that filled the air,

brought more joy than I could contain.

I'd survived some pretty hungry days,

and many a lonely night.

But somehow the star of Christmas time

made my dreams again burn bright.

11) Poems From ANGEL

ANGEL

The most delicate flower

I ever saw;

the tenderest bird I ever held;

the sweetest song I ever knew... was you!

A MODERN POEM

The skies are full of falling stars,

sad heroes never meant to be.

They burn so bright, so brief a time...

then plunge into the sea.

ON BEING HUMAN

There is no such thing as a tragic life,

for every life is tragic.

Yet in each heart are wonderous powers

of love and dreams and magic.

PRISONERS

To those who have escaped

from this iron cell of loneliness,

we still interned do raise our cups

and drink a toast to you.

Forgotten in the fading years,

we toil alone, together.

Hoping.... always hoping,

to escape here one day too!

THE GIFT

It was an old little joke

and a casual laugh...

and then

you went on your way.

To you,

it was probably nothing.

But you know...

it made my day!

12 POEMS OF FARWELL AND EPITAPH

Author's note: no form of writing can compete with poetry when it comes to finding a place to pay respects to a person. The demand for this kind of poetry has been high. The most frequent requests I receive are for poems to say 'goodbye' to a friend or loved one. Here are a few of my favorites:

MEDAL OF LAUGHTER

If I've made you happy then I've won,

a victory over sorrow done.

If knowing me has made you laugh,

then raise a toast in my behalf.

Everything that I could do, to make your load lighter for you...

I did enthusiastically, that fondly you'd remember me.

EPITAPH FOR A FRIEND

Rest gently now old friend

for your battles have all been fought.

You won

and you lost

but your courage endures

and the world shares

the great things you sought.

WORDS OF KINDNESS

I remember sometimes

the people

who have been good to me.

Who were there at the right time

to say the thing

that my aching soul most needed to hear.

And though the years

might forge a distance,

every waking hour they will always be near.

TO A SAD FRIEND

Where is the heart

that has never been broken?

Where are the eyes

that have shed no tears?

Smile bravely

and lift your heart upward.

For your wounds, like mine

will heal through the years.

ON BEING HUMAN

There is no such thing

as a tragic life,

for every life is tragic.

Yet in each heart

are wondrous powers

of love and dreams and magic.

FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO: OFF SUMMERS LOST

There glows in my mind, the image of a much younger man. His life was happy and simple. He would crawl through the dirt of strawberry fields all day, and quench his thirst with a quart of root beer in his backyard at days end. He could eat half a chocolate pie, ten pancakes and a dozen donuts for breakfast... and might not be able to resist the temptation to repeat the same menu for lunch. He fished and wished in the rivers and woodlands, and relished the excuse to wrestle any sort of creature, whether it had four legs or two. He roamed looking for adventure with a band of rebels through a paradise the City had not yet engulfed. He had no time for girls. To him they were still a mystery, and no more than an occasional subject of boyish conversation.

He was a better man than I am.

FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO: AUTUMN MAGIC

When I was a small child, my greatest ambition of all things, was to become a farmer. After so many years, it seems that in a sense that ambition has come true. For I am now an artist, and I plow and plant and sweat and toil and labor in fields of thought day by day. I cultivate the living seeds of ideas that God does grant me. I move with a crazy sort of restlessness, and am seldom satisfied that I have done enough in a day. But now and then, I take a treasured moment and offer to the World the fruits of my harvest. 'Eat', I say, 'for I am but a laborer and have won this harvest by the sweat of my brow and the pain of my heart. It is yours now forever.'

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"How to set up Poetry Contests at FAIRS" A GUIDE.

Several years ago, I contacted the Oregon State Fair about the possibility of a 'poetry contest'. Were they interested? They were. The idea quickly got kicked up through channels and I was made Director. But could poetry work at a Fair? Was there interest? And well, what about the problems? \par \tab I quickly learned from the Fair 'the rest of the story'. The idea of a POETRY CONTEST had been discussed for several years at the Oregon State Fair. But one thing always killed the idea: 'intellectual intimidation'. The Fair was simply afraid to launch something that sounded so academic by nature. The reasoning seemed to be that 'Who ever academics and intellectuals were, you could probably get in trouble with them by messing with something you know nothing about'.

Now some years before there had been a skinny young poet who had stood FAIR after FAIR on the midway hawking books of poetry (mostly to surprised Fair goers). He was an odd sort of character who h ad somehow managed to show a lot of people that 'poetry wasn't so bad after all'. One professional pitchman had called the poet, 'hardest working pitchman he had ever watched'. Might this old poet know something about how to launch a poetry contest at a Fair. I was hoping so, since he was me.

I saw the problem with Fair had with the 'academic issue'. I was able to convince them that poets themselves view poetry as a 'craft', like needlepoint or quilting. The pieces are just as carefully put together to form a poem, as in any other craft. It was then that something changed in the way the Fair viewed poetry and they were ready to work with it.

Fair entries began at a shy 15 in number that first year. By the 10th year of the Fair, entries were nearly 200. The poetry contest that had been experimental and risky, was one of the largest departments in the State Fair. It had served as a model for many county Fairs throughout Oregon. Poetry, known as the 'poor man' among literary forms, had found a place to shine.

I know that your poetry contest can be a success but to help you here are some 'DO'S & DON'TS.

1) DO require that entries be matted and ready to hang. A good maximum size for mats is 9 x 12.

2) DON'T allow entries that use glass, wood or metal frames. These fall down easily and can be dangerous. Glass is the worst thing people can use. A glass frame will shatter into a million pieces.

3) DO keep classes simple. Some examples might be: rhyme, free verse, short poem, children's poetry, teen poetry, or Fair theme. A class that had been very popular was 'Artistic Form'. In this class poets were to use artwork, cloth or other materials to interpret their poem. The result was some beautiful work, such as a poem that was painted into an old painting. DON'T get classes that are too academic. You want to introduce people to poetry not scare them away. For example everyone likes HAIKU requires lines of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, then 5 syllables. If your winning entry had 4,7 4, you could get in for some complaints from people that had followed the rules. Simple categories that are easy for people to understand work best. It is best to use simple classes to INTRODUCE people to poetry.

4) DO require that poems be easily readable. A poem must be easy to read by a Fairgoer standing about 2 feet away. The Fair is a visual experience and poetry can contribute to that experience. I tend to try to see things from the viewpoint of the Fairgoer. If a poem isn't visually appealing and easy to read, it hasn't met some critical requirements. This year the fairs I manage will require a given font of 14 or higher. This is a size 14 font. We still get poems THIS size or smaller. That can be pretty hard to read on a display, especially from a distance.

Fairs are changing and poetry has become part of the new look of many fairs. In a time when literacy is so important, anything we can do to promote literacy in any way is a big help to society. I know your poetry exhibit is going to be a success, but if there is anything more I can do to be of help, please contact me at:

mailto: Steven Robert Heine

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