In loving memory of Ron Purtlebaugh, my father
Sept. 16, 1950 - Jan. 25, 2003
  Welcome, please come in   Poems of the Week       Wonder If   Wonder if, recurred the gift of youth anew repaired, might wisdom's lair still haunt me there in woes forgotten cares? Glancing back amidst the slack unending days of nights, numbing straits of tempting fate deaf, blinded by the light, timelessness caressed the touch that stole the breath of life while gusts of now forgot somehow how fun brought pain and strife. Verses romped like moonbeams dropped sweet fled my pen resigned, stars that hung like crystal crops performed, adorned each line, wonder if, inscribed, enscrolled, their plight more fifty years, might caring tears, wept balladeers,  still moist these warm blue spheres?   Ron Purtlebaugh             A Minute In The Life Of A Light Bulb   The hazy snow round bulb's aglow, midwinter's chilling rain, the stringent light strikes out to fight a path beneath my pane. It stains the night that dark before implores to live again, the wind breaks in, inserts a leaf to see it dies in vain. A shingle loose has slipped it's noose a broken rooftop nail, flaps the breeze to leave a crease that dims the cement trail. Up the walk the dead leaves stalk and swirling single file, one jumps up to talk, then balks... and joins them in a pile.  All the while, the bulb aglow, takes it all in style.   Ron Purtlebaugh             One Tiny Smile   Caught, in clouds of happiness, a million billion smiles, a single one looks out to ask, "Can I be worth the while?" "Can one tiny upturned lip, exact a true impact, can I be of usefulness, make a place, a difference, a need does seem to lack?" "Yes, You Can! The heart cries back, how little do you know, the planting of one tiny smile, it's love, that starts to grow." "If that's so true," the smile replies, "then, why this teeming crowd, why must these all stand around, with nothing to bestow?" "Because, a smile," the heart responds, "is much the same, a rose, until it blooms and gives itself, it has no place to grow."     Ron Purtlebaugh       Ron Purtlebaugh-2002 Recipient of the International Poet of Merit Award International Society of Poets     Proud Recipient of      Comments & Links       Branches And Twigs Under The Poem Tree with Ron Kaye         God Bless America         These are my poems, you can use or reprint them only with easily granted permission ©copyright 2001 by Ron Purtlebaugh all rights reserved UNDER THE POEM TREE©  IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF I02NODESIGNS ron@underthepoemtree.com     My Favorite Businesses             Bloomington Computing   owned and operated by my brother Curt Purtlebaugh a link for my readers and friends needing help with their  computer       Thank you for reading me.