David E. Hungate
Written For You
What do I know of setting words to verse?
Accept and enjoy them for better or worse.
These stories of trails, triumphs and love
Must be sent from somewhere above.
Somehow these words just come to me,
So I must write them and set them free.
Some of these poems are a little bit coarse
But I make no apologies and have no remorse.
There comes a time when we must speak out,
And face some facts on what life’s about.
Sometimes they offer a different view,
Please enjoy them, they’re written for you.
Dave Hungate, a retired supervisor, has been writing poems most of his adult life. His writings, in general, are about every day happenings. He has combined his wit and perspective about ordinary people and events that have or may touch the lives of many. He started the book as a dare from a coworker and hopes to continue pursuing his dream of writing and publishing his poetry.
Memories
I’ve read poems that were strange
From poets who cover a wide range
But none can chill me to the bone
Like things I think of on my own.
When I think of yesteryear
Joy and sadness brings a tear.
Have I finally lost my mind?
Or do I need this to unwind.
Haunting memories good and bad
Of things we’ve seen and fun we’ve had.
Alone at midnight calm and still
Reflecting sometimes brings a chill.
Come morning we will meet the day
And go about our usual way.
To live our lives so hard and fast
Repeating mistakes of the past.
Inflicting wounds that cannot heal
And judge ourselves with no appeal.
Most scars in life are self-inflicted
That could be avoided and predicted.
Ghosts that hide within us all
Waiting to haunt at beckoned call.
Strange books that fill our library shelves
But none are stranger than ourselves.
Veterans
I know in my heart that I have no right
But sometimes I sit alone at night
And think of the veterans who came home
Only to find themselves alone.
We seem to give honor to the dead
But forget the ones who only bled.
They lost their feet, legs and arms,
Most certainly lost their childish charms.
They gave their soul some gave their mind,
And returned home only to find
They had fought the fight but lost the race,
Life at home had kept its’ pace.
As they fought an awful war
Sometimes wondering why...what for?
The ones at home had gone to school
Now they stood out like an ignorant fool.
Companies hire the educated
And promote the graduated.
Once again it’s the veterans loss,
The old draft dodger is now their boss.
How many times must they give?
And how many hells must they live?
How much longer can we afford
Not to give their just reward?
