Clayton A. Engle, III 

Wilkes-Barre, PA, USA 

  
 
 
I started writing poetry just to see if I could, which is also the reason why I tried getting published. Now, after 5 years and 32 poems, I've won 3 Honorable Mention Awards, 3 Editor's Choice Awards, 1 President's Award and have been nominated 2 years in a row for Poet of the Year. People ask why I do it? Poetry doesn't pay much. I'm not looking to be paid for it, I'm looking for the immortality. The books I've been published in will be around longer than I will. Besides poetry, I'm working on my first novel called Battlezone Wilkes-Barre. 
 

The Laughing Man 

I heard the man's laughter as I looked to the tree. 
Hanging from the rope swung the once thirteen apostle, 
Who would go down in history as the man who betrayed Christ. 
But why was the man laughing? 
There was nothing funny about this death. 
To satisfy my curiosity I asked the man why he laughed. 
Surely Judas felt wrong for what he did, 
Which no doubt is why he took his own life. 
Still the man laughed not caring much for what I had said, 
Until he stopped and told me his name. 
I am the devil, 
I find all this to be very funny and you want to know why? 
The savior of your kind died and all he wanted was peace and love, 
To make the world a better place from the likes of me. 
You and your kind give hugs as a gesture of love, 
Yet for Pilate to learn who Jesus Christ was Judas gave him a hug. 
Ironic how a symbol of love is what killed the Prince of Peace. 

Lost Goals 

And to the dream that dies hard sits the crying man, 
Who for various reasons has failed to become what he wanted. 
Everything he had now taken away. 
Now he sits on the curb, 
With the house he once owned behind him locked and under new ownership. 
His wife and children are long gone with slim hopes of ever coming back. 
What's left he asks looking toward heaven, 
Minutes later he realizes his answer when he doesn't get a reply. 

Missed Chances 

The bus to my destiny had left without me. 
I stood there just watching as it got further and further from me. 
I started running but my speed wasn't good enough, 
For when I stopped to catch my breath I realized that the dream was over. 
Try as I might I knew all I had left was to walk in my own footsteps, 
Dreaming of what I wanted to be. 

The Time I Wasted 

I went up to the mountain for these people, 
And what did it get me? 
Nothing! 
Nothing at all, 
Except the time I wasn't in doing it. 
To take all that gold, 
And melt it into this worthless piece of nonsense you all now worship. 
Rejecting the tablets I brought down from the mountain, 
Idolizing this golden calf you believe to be god. 
Tell me when your god speaks, 
Does it say moo. 
All poems Copyright © 1998 Clayton A. Engle, III. All rights reserved.