Poems About People
By Wil C. Fry

POEMS HOME

Over the years, Wil wrote various poems about people in his life, whether they were friends, strangers, lovers, or family members. These were always meant as a tribute to those people and the impact that they'd had on his life. At times, Wil's opinions of those people may not have been entirely correct, and sometimes, there are negative observations. But in general, the tone of the poems is intended to be one of admiration for the differences among all humans, celebrating their uniqueness. Here are some of those poems.

MY BROTHER IN THE LORD
About: Wesley Michael Ramon and Matthew Wesley Lawrence
May 17, 1989 (age 16)

You’re my Christian brother, i love you with all my heart
when you need some help, i’ll gladly do my part
i’ll stand beside you, even when we’re all alone
i’ll be your brother, when all the rest have gone
You’ve shown love to me, in a way no one else has
All i can do is thank Him, for purposely crossing our paths
Yes, you've failed me before, and i know i’ll fail you,
Yes, we'll disagree sometimes, and we'll argue too,
but we’ll always draw close again, when the battle’s through
i know that if we’re together, we’ll make it through
we’ll pray together, and for each other
i love you, ‘cause you’re my Christian brother
i’ll stand by your side - please, stand by mine
When we fight satan - we’ll be side by side
i’ll watch your back - you cover me
we’ll make it through - just wait and see

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THE GOATEE MAN     
About: Matthew Wesley Lawrence
April 27, 1990 (age 17)

There’s this guy I know, his name is Matt
He’s not very dumb, and he’s not very fat
Now and then he burps, now and then he sings
When he’s bit by a bee, he feels a slight sting
He’s a goatee man, a goatee man
Oh, baby, he’s a goatee man
He has no plan, for his life span
He doesn’t have a friend who’s name is Dan
He lives in a can, has an electric fan
His music has been banned
His mind has been canned
The Gap has been spanned
On day he will land (on the moon)
He eats from a spoon
He sings the looney tunes
(repeat chorus)

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THE FRIED CHICKEN     
About: Lisa Hickman
April 27, 1990 (age 17)     

I know this girl named Lisa
I know this girl named Lisa
I need a word that rhymes with Lisa
not a word that rhymes with Eugene
Her pool is full of chorine
‘sposed to make it clean
Her pool is quite a scene
Her mind is in her body
Both of them are rotting
She hates going jogging
on Wednesday, her spleen starts clogging
When she swims she wears little floatees
She never ever had a goatee
at least not yet
maybe to win a bet
Her pool’s a little wet
It’s the best she could get
Ever since we met
She’s my little pet
catch a fish in a net
go fly in a jumbo jet
Her penguin is in debt
That’s why it died
That’s why she cried
Then her pool dried
Then her chicken fried
And she ate it.

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HE BEASTLY SONG     
About: Les Guilliams
May 1, 1990 (age 17)     

There was this guy named Les, made some leather boots
He lived off of crickets, and lots a’ roasted roots
He lives for the fun of it, has no purpose at all
He has funny red hair, doesn’t ever comb at all
Wears a funny green jacket - never ever tries to shave
Everybody laughs at him, but they all think he’s brave
You see, les is the Door - Need I tell you more?
He has to live for nothing but the Doorway
And the people that go thru every Day
If you go through the door, you may not come back
If you ever try, you’ll catch a lot o’ flak
Things have gone in - never have returned
If you ever try you’ll really get burned
Don’t you ever try - you’ll really get spurned
And you life maybe rudely overturned
You see, Les is the Door - Need I say more?
He has nothing to live for but the Doorway
And room that is thru it, across the way
He never caught a cricket
But when he caught it, it died
He buried in the ground, outside
It’s a sad ending, to a beastly song, and
now this song is getting much too long, (so, bye!)

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KRIS     
About: Kris Burkholder, fellow student at Wil's high school
May 4, 1990 (age 17)     

Kris is this guy, last name’s Burkholder
if you look at him, your feet get colder
(and your great-grandmother’s flowers get older)
His hair is weird, but so is mine, so who cares at all
i see a big, fat, obese rat behind that wall
i smell a rat, things are getting kinda fishy
the scum between your toes is gettin’ kinda squishy
Kris, Kris, how did you miss
What a neat guy, this Kris (People say he’s gay,
i know he’s not that way) (Maybe in May)
After it’s all over, he’s a cool guy
a little weird, but so are you and i.

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ELVIS ANGEL     
About: Molly "Elvis" Trosdale
May 8, 1990 (age 17)

Elvis, O, great Elvis, shake that pelvic pelvis
Oh, you do it so well, you just can’t be from hell
What a heavenly pelvis, that girl called Elvis
She’s my Elvis angel, from heaven on high
She’s back again, yeah, to take us for a ride
She’s got the hair, she’s got the pelvis
She’s just gotta be that guy Elvis
Some call her “Molly”, but the name Elvis makes her jolly
Where did the name come from? From the deranged mind of someone
Could it have been Matt? Well, i’ll agree with that
He’s definitely deranged, his brain has the mange.
One day he saw her pelvis, and coined the term Elvis
She does it so well, she just can’t be from hell
She’s my Elvis angel, shakes her pelvis for me
She’s back again, yeah, already older than three
She’s got the hair, she’s got the pelvis
and there’s no way in the world you could say that she’s not Elvis
“You ain’t nothin’ but a hot dog, eaten all the time
You ain’t never been a good to me, y’ain’t no friend o’ mine.”

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YOU BRING ME PEACE     
About: Holly Urban and Wesley Ramon
July 15, 1990 (age 17)

I write to you of my troubles, I speak of my trials
I like to tell you when I’m down
You smile, and tell me to smile too, saying “It’s okay”
You like to remind me of the day I’ll get a crown
When sorrows overtake me and I lash out in anger
And I try to hurt someone close
You’re no “fairweather friend”, you love me the same
Even when it hurts the most
And you bring me peace, you bring me peace
I am comforted when you are near to me
And you bring me joy, you bring me joy
I see your love for me, and I have to rejoice
And you bring me love, you bring me love
You’ve taught me about the love from above
And you bring me peace
There’s times when evil rises against me and
I see the temptation and want to bow
You pray me through, and tell me it’s wrong
but assure me that you’d love me anyhow
Then cowardice entices me, and carelessness too
Angry, jealous lips spit forth bitterness
But from your heart comes acceptance and love
Your hurt, bleeding heart shows forth forgiveness
And you bring me peace. . .

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OF WESLEY, A KNIGHT OF OLDE     
About: Wesley Emm Arr Punisher
("Wesley Emm Arr Punisher" was a character in a fictional story that Wil wrote when he was young. The character was obviously based on his close friend, Wesley Michael Ramon. This poem was actually written about the character, not the person)
Aug. 10, 1991 (age 18)

Warrior was he, and roughly clad
His skin was dark, his heart was glad
With piercing eyes and lengthy hair
With muscles hard, and wife so fair
He hefted sword that none could lift
Then, shield stalwart, and arrow swift
Yes, he was known to fight true well
When all his men beside him fell
His horse was white, a stallion strong
It bore him thru the raging throng
He rode upon his stallion, yes
And then dethroned the country’s best
Upon his feet, might quick ran he
And so surpassed all rivalry
Earthly masters? Nay, he had none
‘Xcept in this world he followed one
He pledged his life, his wealth he left
To follow one whom he called Jef
Friends they had been, since meeting first
For each other they fought the worst
Then high rose Jef, in leading men
Along with him, Sir Wes his friend
Now lands they rule with friendly hand
While Wesley wars, and Jef commands
Wesley listens with willing ears
But no other on earth he fears
One more ruler Sir Wesley heeds
But this One lives above the trees
“Light” is His name, also the “Door”
The “Way”, the “Truth”, and many more
More knowledge and more pow’r he holds.
And when in hearts, He makes men bold.

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KARISA     
("I never knew her last name.")
Sept. 6, 1999 (age 26)

On a whim
She came into my life
And I let her
Small of frame and
Large of smile
I liked to make her laugh until the tears ran down
Her exquisite face
Brought joy to mine, where
No joy had dwelt
For some time
Someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s friend
She might have been my lover in another life
And that’s where she went
Maybe there, in that next world, they will understand her
“I’m not sure; I don’t know; I guess I never noticed it ‘til I was fucked in the head”     
Were some of her last words to me
Words that haunt me now that she’s gone on
How we walked and talked, it’s still with me
How we touched, and looked into each other’s eyes
Both of us finding safe haven there together when both of us
Had known worse
And the world will never know just how glad I am that
I was able
To be just what she needed for a short time
Because I know she was for me
Karisa, maybe I will see you
Again
If not, then
Goodbye
and Good luck.

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DON & CAROLINE’S     
About: The two people in the title (last name unknown)
April 4, 2000 (age 27)     

Caught up in the here and now, forgetting about being stranded
And a smiling face across the pool is a welcome sight
Curling smoke arranges itself in the sun’s morning rays
Or hides in the corners, darkly awaiting new breath
A quickly forgotten joke hovers, apparent in the laugh lines
The white lines, the safety lines, the lines on a new page
And it’s about time this old book had a new page
Beer in three flavors goes down with salted peanuts and
Burger King wrappers clutter the table and the black tile counter
But we’re looking at the sun-drenched nipples instead
Hearing the clack of billiard balls in the other room, no
Not the room with the giant TV and heated massage chair
Or the room with the tanning bed, where there’s a waiting list
A stimulating conversation, a titillating view
As long as you can still get in touch with someone called “you”
(continued on April 9, 2000, 20:00 hours)     
You have to be invited to walk through the door
And you have to be approved if you want to stay
All decent people are accepted and only the rude are turned away
Don is the don, but he can be your friend or he could be your father
Caroline lives life with a smile and a bad neck, and she’s someone you can’t bother
Sleepy, wobbly, or bloodshot, you’ll have a good time
Letting life slide by and ignoring everybody’s crime
You’ll go back even if it takes a while and you’ll
Breathe a sigh of relief when you walk through the door

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HE ENJOYED IT (ODE TO RANDY)     
About: Randy (last name since forgotten)
Sept. 13, 2000 (age 27)

Flailing through life
Mouth open wide
Brain unattached
But enjoying it.

Setting your sights
On the ultimate ride
Reaching for the skies
And enjoying it.

See through to the soul
Heart spread open wide
Climbing out of a hole
And enjoying it.

Interrupting life
Still out, causing strife
The past will take its toll
But you’ll enjoy it.

When you’re finished with your role
And the grave is open wide
The epitaph says, with a sigh:
“He enjoyed it.”

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GOOD OLE CITY SLICKER (ODE TO MARK)     
About: Mark Alan Hurst
Sept. 29, 2000 (age 28)     

Well, he still defies definition
But then, I have this premonition
That he likes it that way
Born ‘n’ raised out in the country
Lived and worked in the shitty city
And some say he lost his way

You might be a slave, but he works harder
You could be a genius; we say he’s smarter
Living to the tune of a thumping techno beat
No question; he’ll give his all for a friend
Generosity and loyalty without end
Look! There he is, walking on the street

You might find him watching the history channel
With a beer in one hand
And two empty bottles on the table
Or at a pay phone, arguing about a credit card

He’s the good ole country boy, only with math skills,
He’s the sophisticated city man, only with a quick smile,
He can change the subject before you hear the first part
The heart of a little boy wrapped in an old man’s scars.

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My father, the strongest man I know     
Nov. 7-9, 2000 (age 28)     

His hands were strong
I felt them as he held me, carried me
Heard the grinding as he loosened rusty bolts
Watched as he built barns, fences,
Our lives
Felt the restraint as he disciplined
And knew we were safe
In his hands

His heart was strong
I watched him cry, and felt the hot tears
While he forgave me, inspired me
I knew he would give his money, his advice,
His time
Take a bullet if need be
For any of us
Right in the heart

His mind was strong
As he taught me, corrected me, surprised me
With what kinds of things he knew
How he could figure things out so quickly
Amazed us
What use was there for a science book?
When my dad was around,
Speaking his mind

His back was weak
And laid him out more than once, I guess
We weren’t sure how to handle that
But he always seemed to get back up
(So far)
More than anyone else, he could push himself
With the entire world
Riding on his back.

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Till The Day I Die (Ode To My Mother)
May 11, 2001 (age 28)
("There’s so much more I could say… Smart shopper, Master’s degree, home school teacher, giver of well-thought-out advice, the best family cook in the world — bar none, THE BEST MOM IN THE WHOLE GOSH DARNED WORLD! I love you, Mom.")

‘For richer and poorer’
My mother has lived and loved
Every moment in her life greatly prized
From Arizona’s deserts
To Oklahoma’s wilderness
And the rest of the world, besides

She walked through the largest cities in the world
With wide-eyed wonder and girlish delight
Although she never feared returning home
To fight the good fight

Where she raised four wild children
With much grace, patience, optimism,
And a firm hand
The Home that others envied
Where she held us, loved us,
And was always ready to understand

Where she cooked, cleaned, washed and sprayed
And worked, and prayed, studied and stayed
And few were the times we appreciated
The sacrifices she lovingly made

Where her gardens grew green
And fed us many times
But don’t give credit to a “green thumb.”
She worked, slaved, persevered
And brought the flowers and vegetables up
No matter how hot the sun

She was an example to us, and to others
A counselor, a teacher, a fount of wisdom, and a friend
A sewer, a mender, a sower, a reaper,
A rock in times of trouble
And she will be, until the end

Although I am trying, I cannot express in words
How she was tough as nails
Yet as soft as the petals of a rose
Not given to flights of fancy,
She taught me the value of researching my opinions
These are things only a mother’s son knows

Sometimes, I wish I was still that little boy, playing outside
So I could come to her with my skinned knee, and bruised pride
So she could hold me as long as I needed her to
Hearing her prayers over me as I cried
That’s what I’ll never forget
Till the day I die

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