﻿<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?><rss version="2.0"><channel><title>VoicesNet.com Recent Poems of Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz - Copyright for all poems displayed belong to author</title><link>http://www.voicesnet.com</link><description>The latest poems submitted to www.VoicesNet.com by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</description><copyright>(c) 2008, VoicesNet, LLC. All rights reserved.</copyright><ttl>5</ttl><item><title>BITES OF LIFE by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>Sep 8, 1994			&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The old man in the corner stares through the window&lt;br&gt;And remembers better days.&lt;br&gt;The waitress laughs like a young girl&lt;br&gt;And tries to forget her eyes with crow lines&lt;br&gt;While I sit here looking over the menu of my times.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It has been a long time since breakfast,&lt;br&gt;Chock full of buddies dipped in the old swimmin' hole,&lt;br&gt;Secret clubs with passwords and cowboy heroes,&lt;br&gt;Dreams of what the future will be&lt;br&gt;Topped with the sweet syrup of meadow flowers and first love.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Lunch, too, is long since past &lt;br&gt;And I no longer soar on the caffeine rush of youthful pride&lt;br&gt;Sustained by hard work that stuck to the ribs and &lt;br&gt;Dessert of sweet romance garnished with two children&lt;br&gt;And their giggles, toys and noise.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Refrain&lt;br&gt;Have you enjoyed the bites of life that you've had?&lt;br&gt;Do you look forward to the juicy bits to come?&lt;br&gt;Or has your bread been stale with no sweetness&lt;br&gt;And your coffee bitter as gall?&lt;br&gt;Then it's time to read the menu and make different choices&lt;br&gt;Before you have no meals left at all!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I've just finished dinner and feeling satisfied&lt;br&gt;With the richness of labor's sweet fruits.&lt;br&gt;The children are Grade A and the job's well done.&lt;br&gt;I'm just looking forward to after dinner fun&lt;br&gt;And the freshness of life's mints.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;But I also look ahead and I'm concerned&lt;br&gt;About that Midnight snack.&lt;br&gt;Not sure if I will even get it or be able&lt;br&gt;To chew it and keep it down,&lt;br&gt;But sure hope it will last through that long, long fast!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Refrain&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We have to receive life like a meal&lt;br&gt;And take it one bite at a time.&lt;br&gt;We can wolf it down and take it for granted&lt;br&gt;Or savor each bite as if it will be our last&lt;br&gt;Knowing either way we will digest it for eternity.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Refrain and fade.&lt;br&gt;</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=116648</link><pubDate>8/4/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>THE DIFFERENCE by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>Sep 23, 1994			&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;If there were no God, what would you do&lt;br&gt;That would be any different or so very new?&lt;br&gt;You would still need clothes upon your back&lt;br&gt;And feel hunger, if food you did lack.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It would be cold in the winter and warm in the sun.&lt;br&gt;You would still work hard and long for rest and fun.&lt;br&gt;You would hate your enemy and care for your friend&lt;br&gt;And look for a love that would never end.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Your life would change very little, to say the least,&lt;br&gt;But you would be no better off, though better than a beast.&lt;br&gt;You would still have the fear of getting old,&lt;br&gt;But at death there would be no gates of gold.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;There would be nothing, but what you have here&lt;br&gt;And you would face the grave in despair and fear.&lt;br&gt;Thanks be to Glory, that there is a God above&lt;br&gt;With a place beyond the grave and eternal love!&lt;br&gt;</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=116649</link><pubDate>8/4/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>ONLY HE KNOWS by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>2/28/07&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Do we really make a difference I reckon we’ll never know&lt;br&gt;Until we stand right there before Him in that heavenly glow.&lt;br&gt;When things have no reason and certainly have no rhyme&lt;br&gt;Paul exhorted us to judge nothing before the time. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sometimes we seem to be progressing passing every test&lt;br&gt;Yet we may find we were growing when we had no peace or rest.&lt;br&gt;The days that seemed so glowing and our crowns had great shine&lt;br&gt;May be days when the spirit was weak but the flesh was doing fine.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;That wonderful sermon or project that made everyone ooh and ah&lt;br&gt;May have revealed itself in Heaven as something drab and blah.&lt;br&gt;The thing we cast off as small like a kind word to one feeling so old&lt;br&gt;May be the very thing that will add a jewel to our crown of gold. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We too often seek a grand entrance upon a glorious quest&lt;br&gt;When just some little tiny thing done in faith He would have called blest.&lt;br&gt;So whether you feel strong or the burden and worry grows&lt;br&gt;Remember the true value of those days only He knows.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=116650</link><pubDate>8/4/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>SO MUCH FOR A PLAN by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>March 22, 2004	&lt;br&gt;		&lt;br&gt;Took the truck for a quick brake check.&lt;br&gt;That’s when my day turned into a wreck.&lt;br&gt;It wasn’t the brakes that caused my alarm.&lt;br&gt;It turned out to be a broken right idler arm.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I turned it over to the mechanic’s powers&lt;br&gt;Then tried to figure out how to kill 4½ hours.&lt;br&gt;Stuck in a neighborhood with nothing to do&lt;br&gt;I figured I’d write out a verse or two.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I dropped into Peggy Sue’s Diner.&lt;br&gt;In the area the cuisine is no finer.&lt;br&gt;I hid in a corner to escape the smoke&lt;br&gt;Though my lungs probably thought that was a joke.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;The service was good and the prices fair.&lt;br&gt;Now and then I would receive a slight stare.&lt;br&gt;My fellow customers saw that I had finished my bite&lt;br&gt;And maybe worried about what I did write.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;They needed not to worry about what flowed from my hand.&lt;br&gt;It was just my way of saying, “So much for a plan!”&lt;br&gt;Sigh, a smoker just sat one table away.&lt;br&gt;Guess I’ll find another spot to waste my day.&lt;br&gt;</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=116651</link><pubDate>8/4/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>       Shazam! Shazam! by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Please move to Mayberry and marry me&lt;br&gt;And make sweet love under the old oak tree.&lt;br&gt;We'll name our sons Goober and Opie,&lt;br&gt;If you'll jist say, "Okie dokie!"&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We'll get a coon dog and name him Rover&lt;br&gt;Every Sunday we'll have Sheriff Andy over.&lt;br&gt;We'll move next door to Deputy Fife.&lt;br&gt;We'll have a grand old country life!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;REFRAIN&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I once had city slicker style&lt;br&gt;But you turned me into Gomer Pyle.&lt;br&gt;Golly! Shazam! Shazam!&lt;br&gt;How I sure do love you, M'am!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We'll eat Aunt Bea's fresh apple pies&lt;br&gt;And swear how the time surely flies&lt;br&gt;Shellin' those green peas by the peck.&lt;br&gt;Sittin' in the sun gittin' an old red neck&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We'll raise us six strong, healthy boys&lt;br&gt;By givin them chores instead of fancy toys.&lt;br&gt;We'll have a little girl or maybe two&lt;br&gt;Pretty as a picture jist like you.   REFRAIN&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Honey, I'm serious, I ain't spinnin' no yarn.&lt;br&gt;Let's get some education out behind the barn.&lt;br&gt;When the kids settle down and outten the light&lt;br&gt;We'll make hot country love on a cold winter night.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;REFRAIN&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We'll move next door to Deputy Fife&lt;br&gt;We'll have a grand old country life!&lt;br&gt;When the kids settle down and outten the light&lt;br&gt;We'll make hot country love on a cold winter night.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;6/26/95	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113571</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>West Texas Heaven by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>			&lt;br&gt;I found the peace that I was needin'&lt;br&gt;In the West Texas town called Eden.&lt;br&gt;A little further down the road in old San Angelo,&lt;br&gt;The views prepared me for that heavenly glow.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;God loves Texas and tucks it in bed at night&lt;br&gt;With a soft blanket of clouds.  Oh, what a sight!&lt;br&gt;I've got wide-open spaces where I can roam&lt;br&gt;Just like the vastness of that eternal home.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;CHORUS&lt;br&gt;Texas must be a lot like glory&lt;br&gt;Where I'll be singin' the old, old story.&lt;br&gt;Where God finger paints in the big blue sky&lt;br&gt;And the soul passes over never more to die.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;A man can settle down in a place like Ranger.&lt;br&gt;Away from the big city noise and danger.&lt;br&gt;There's no way a man can be more free&lt;br&gt;Except for when he kneels at Calvary.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sinner, friend you may never ride the plains with me,&lt;br&gt;But turn and gaze right now upon that old rugged tree.&lt;br&gt;Call upon Jesus to save you then you'll know&lt;br&gt;Heaven's where you'll land when thrown from life's rodeo.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;CHORUS&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;May 19, 1995</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113572</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Why Rhyme? by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>			&lt;br&gt;Some ask me why I rhyme&lt;br&gt;My original verse all the time,&lt;br&gt;When there are many critics out there&lt;br&gt;That disdain such literary ware.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Guess it is because I am a common man&lt;br&gt;And so, I write with a common hand.&lt;br&gt;I write for those plain folks down home&lt;br&gt;That if there were no rhyme would see no poem.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Some write poetry esoteric and dark&lt;br&gt;And care not where on the page words park.&lt;br&gt;They do what they do and that is fine.&lt;br&gt;I can only write in a style that's mine.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Many poets that stood the test of time&lt;br&gt;Wrote in iambic pentameter and rhyme.&lt;br&gt;In our time, this is considered conventional or lyrical.&lt;br&gt;Of course, this is subjective and not empirical.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'd rather not argue over styles.&lt;br&gt;Such undue stress can cause you piles.&lt;br&gt;I'd much rather take the time&lt;br&gt;To compose some pithy verse in rhyme.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;April 11, 1996</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113573</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Dusty Trails by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>He lived the life of a cowboy&lt;br&gt;Now he's just too old to ride.&lt;br&gt;The years have taken away his joy&lt;br&gt;And now they're beating on his pride.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He loved the Rodeo&lt;br&gt;And for those days his heart pines&lt;br&gt;As he sits staring on the front porch&lt;br&gt;As if looking for Heavenly signs.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;His face is worn and wrinkled&lt;br&gt;Like the Stetson hat he wears.&lt;br&gt;There are lines on his face&lt;br&gt;For each of his worldly cares.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;There's no young person to listen&lt;br&gt;To the stories that must be told.&lt;br&gt;Lord, it's Hell for a spirit so free&lt;br&gt;To be trapped in a body so old.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He once was a hero&lt;br&gt;That men told of in their tales&lt;br&gt;Now those days are just memories&lt;br&gt;Of good horses and dusty trails.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He mouths his harmonica&lt;br&gt;And plays a mournful song.&lt;br&gt;The young cowpuncher in his soul&lt;br&gt;Never knew days so long.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then one night as he listens&lt;br&gt;To that old lonely whip-poor-will,&lt;br&gt;The trail comes to an end &lt;br&gt;And his cowboy heart lies still.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;His pardners gather around and yell&lt;br&gt;As the Parson bows his head to pray.&lt;br&gt;They let loose a volley because they know&lt;br&gt;That today the cowboy just rides away.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Jul 18,1994</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113575</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Johnny Reb by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>He struggles across the field&lt;br&gt;In his suit of butternut gray.&lt;br&gt;He's already wounded twice&lt;br&gt;But that won't keep him from the fray.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;They call him Johnny Reb&lt;br&gt;And that's what he's proud to be.&lt;br&gt;He'll gladly give up his life&lt;br&gt;To keep his pride and liberty.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He stumbled and he fell&lt;br&gt;Yet rose again to climb the hill.&lt;br&gt;The courage within his heart&lt;br&gt;Is more abundant than the blood he'll spill.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He lets loose one last rebel yell&lt;br&gt;And falls upon his hated foe.&lt;br&gt;Another ball takes his life&lt;br&gt;But he won't go alone to that home of the soul.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Just like his rebel spirit&lt;br&gt;That rises to live again on high,&lt;br&gt;The South will rise once more&lt;br&gt;Because its spirit will never die.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Jul 26, 1994	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113576</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Photo Album by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>	&lt;br&gt;I've got an eighteen-hole picture frame.&lt;br&gt;None of the photos show any pain or shame.&lt;br&gt;Looking there at my first forty years,&lt;br&gt;You'd think I never shed any tears.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;On the walls only good memories you will find.&lt;br&gt;We keep the bad pictures in our mind.&lt;br&gt;We have all the albums we can get.&lt;br&gt;We hope they will help us to forget.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yet while we gaze at those winning smiles,&lt;br&gt;In our minds we remember the long, hard miles.&lt;br&gt;For every victory that was so sweet,&lt;br&gt;We remember the bitter tears of defeat.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Verse 2&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;So we hang those pictures of bygone years&lt;br&gt;And wipe the glass with our kisses and tears.&lt;br&gt;We're mounting hopes that we are on the way&lt;br&gt;To a better, brighter, clearer day.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Remember the Heaven and remember the Hell.&lt;br&gt;Take some more pictures all is well.&lt;br&gt;Thanks to technology, they'll never be able to trace&lt;br&gt;The tracks of pain on your weary face.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Verse 2&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sep 10, 1994</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113578</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Old Men Need Love, Too by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>		&lt;br&gt;He sits on the park bench dreaming of yesterday&lt;br&gt;And the love they shared before she passed away.&lt;br&gt;In his mind, he is still only twenty-two,&lt;br&gt;But his body won't act like it used to do.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The pigeons are now his only friends.&lt;br&gt;His money is gone before his month ends.&lt;br&gt;The payment for his bills he sometimes forgets to send,&lt;br&gt;But his love for her has no end.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He care for her cat that he cussed when she was here.&lt;br&gt;As he feeds it, he murmurs and sheds a lonely tear.&lt;br&gt;Every night he climbs those old creaky stairs.&lt;br&gt;No one listens, visits, or even cares.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Time passes quickly and you, too, will soon be there&lt;br&gt;Dealing with false teeth, lumbago, and thinning hair,&lt;br&gt;How do you treat them?  Look in the mirror for a clue.&lt;br&gt;Just like you, old men need love, too.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Sep 12, 1994	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113579</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Cowboy Up! by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>			&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Be very careful what you say or do&lt;br&gt;Or some committee will be coming after you.&lt;br&gt;I'm tired of folks whining like a hungry pup.&lt;br&gt;Come on America, it's time to Cowboy Up!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Our ancestors came to a rough, untamed land&lt;br&gt;And faced their hardships like a woman and a man.&lt;br&gt;We once matured into gentlemen and ladies.&lt;br&gt;Now, we're raising spoiled, crying babies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;When times got rough, we took it on the chin.&lt;br&gt;Now, we want someone to blame and a lawyer who can win.&lt;br&gt;Groups abound so we are quickly defended&lt;br&gt;When we lack back bone and are so easily offended!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;When a rider's been thrown and he starts to feel down.&lt;br&gt;His pardners say, "Cowboy Up!" to bring him back around.&lt;br&gt;There are too many lazy folks rattling their cup.&lt;br&gt;Come on, America, it's time to Cowboy Up!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;We surely have our problems and we so easily sin,&lt;br&gt;But nothing will change unless we all chip in.&lt;br&gt;One day there will be no table at which you can sup&lt;br&gt;Unless Americans quit their cryin' and COWBOY UP!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Oct 1, 1994</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113580</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Football Love by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>&lt;br&gt;Honey, you get so angry at me&lt;br&gt;When I'm glued to that old TV.&lt;br&gt;Dahlin', I swear to God above&lt;br&gt;That I have more than a football love.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;You wonder if what I say is true.&lt;br&gt;Honey, just like that old 'Bama pride&lt;br&gt;Rolls on with that Crimson Tide&lt;br&gt;So my love will always flow for you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I love you from the very depths of my soul.&lt;br&gt;Those old Clemson Tigers you can't hold&lt;br&gt;And all my love for you cannot be told.&lt;br&gt;To be ever in your arms is my only goal.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I'll do more than just fuss and cuss.&lt;br&gt;Like those Ole Miss Rebels,&lt;br&gt;I'll grind anything to pebbles&lt;br&gt;That tries to put an end to us.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;So hold me and make that touchdown run.&lt;br&gt;We'll be taking our love into overtime.&lt;br&gt;Like a Georgia Bull Dog we'll cross that line&lt;br&gt;Into the end zone of passion sublime.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Oct 9, 1994	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113581</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Forever Young by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>		&lt;br&gt;Looking out from weary, aged eyes&lt;br&gt;Into a mirror to the soul that never dies.&lt;br&gt;He analyzes the face so haggard and mean&lt;br&gt;With the awed curiosity of the internal teen.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He gazes at the pate so shiny and bare&lt;br&gt;And remembers the locks that once flowed there.&lt;br&gt;There is a macabre toothless grin&lt;br&gt;Where once perfect pearly whites had been.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The back and muscles that many a burden did take&lt;br&gt;Now are bowed and weakly quiver and shake.&lt;br&gt;Inside the spirit, so vibrant and free,&lt;br&gt;Screams, "Oh my God, can this really be me?"&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He hangs his head and fights back the tears&lt;br&gt;Then laughs at the cruelty of the passing years.&lt;br&gt;He remembers the women he loved and the songs he sung.&lt;br&gt;Though eighty years old, in his mind he's forever young.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Oct 22, 1994</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113582</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>On Critics by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>Gee, poem,&lt;br&gt;You're looking pretty good&lt;br&gt;to me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Yep,&lt;br&gt;Look just like what I was told&lt;br&gt;You should.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;But,&lt;br&gt;Others would sneer and tear you&lt;br&gt;Apart&lt;br&gt;And say you're not a poem&lt;br&gt;At all.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Heck,&lt;br&gt;Who are they anyway?&lt;br&gt;Live on, poem, you are a product of&lt;br&gt;The heart,&lt;br&gt;The soul.&lt;br&gt;You are me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Nov 26, 1994</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113583</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Vengeance by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>She'll spit in my eye&lt;br&gt;The day I die&lt;br&gt;And from her gun&lt;br&gt;I will not run.&lt;br&gt;When rage comes upon her&lt;br&gt;I'll die without honor.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;5/10/96	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113584</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title> He Has Fallen by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>Young Marine Bobby lies still.&lt;br&gt;     His war is over, yet he&lt;br&gt;Lives in honor in our hearts.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;(In honor of Cpl. Robert P. Warns, II of Waukesha, WI, who finished his duty 8 Nov 04 in Iraq)  SEMPER FI!!!!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;1/29/05</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113585</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>One White Rose by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>		&lt;br&gt;On the day that he wed,&lt;br&gt;He gave her one white rose.&lt;br&gt;She placed it by their bed&lt;br&gt;Where, they laid in passion's throes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;When she bore their first child&lt;br&gt;He gave her one white rose.&lt;br&gt;It was pure and it was wild&lt;br&gt;Just the way that their love grows.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Before he said goodbye,&lt;br&gt;He gave her one white rose&lt;br&gt;And, he told her not to cry&lt;br&gt;For his love is where she goes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Before she parted from his grave,&lt;br&gt;She gave him one white rose.&lt;br&gt;His memory was all she could save&lt;br&gt;From the hundreds of crosses in hundreds of rows.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;May 24, 1972</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113586</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>Captain John West 1-2-70 by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>	&lt;br&gt;Inscription&lt;br&gt;On a copper band.&lt;br&gt;The name of a brother&lt;br&gt;In enemy land.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I know nothing&lt;br&gt;About you or your kin&lt;br&gt;Nor anything about in which&lt;br&gt;Part of Hell you have been.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I jockey a truck&lt;br&gt;Not far from my home,&lt;br&gt;While you bravely face&lt;br&gt;Your ordeal alone.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;While thousands of miles separate us&lt;br&gt;And to others you are only a name,&lt;br&gt;I feel a bond of brotherhood&lt;br&gt;Between us just the same.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;For my mind and heart&lt;br&gt;Shall not rest till the day&lt;br&gt;You are returned to your loved ones&lt;br&gt;And this band is stowed away.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;May 25, 1972	</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113588</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item><item><title>UNLESS by Dr Ronald Eugene Shultz</title><description>&lt;br&gt;Life is nothing but grabbing for dollars.&lt;br&gt;There is no God or Hell or so say the scholars.&lt;br&gt;A gasp, a giggle, a gurgle, a grave,&lt;br&gt;That is all there is unless Jesus will save.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I must sing, dance, and definitely get high,&lt;br&gt;Since this is it, there is no by and by.&lt;br&gt;If I lie, steal, and cheat I will do rather well.&lt;br&gt;There is just one rub, what if there is a Hell?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I have studied Rousseau, Kant, and Descartes, you see,&lt;br&gt;So what is this crucified Saviour to me?&lt;br&gt;I have got money to burn and fine wine to quaff,&lt;br&gt;But, what if this resurrection thing is not a laugh?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I have followed Buddha, Confucious, and done yoga awhile,&lt;br&gt;But being a repentant sinner is just not my style!&lt;br&gt;After all, a gasp, a giggle, a gurgle, a grave&lt;br&gt;That is all there is unless Jesus does save.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;May 5, 1983</description><link>http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=113589</link><pubDate>6/2/2007</pubDate></item></channel></rss>