Chosen Dreams, Part II

the dreams I had 
when I was young 
the songs I wrote 
that went unsung 
the tears I felt 
but never shed 
the thoughts that stayed 
inside my head 
the joy I felt 
but never expressed 
and all the days 
I was depressed 
nothing to gain 
everything to lose 
but still I dream 
that's what I choose.

© Linda S.O. Gonzalez


Click on Linda's doll above  to go to her web site 
you can read more of her poetry there as well.



To my friend Linda.......

To pour your heart to paper
Is a talent for those so blessed;
And a very special friend of mine
Weaves her words among the best.

She touches our emotions
Through the wisdom of her word;
Offers insight to life's journey,
To a rhythm never heard.

With caring sensitivity
She can soothe our breaking hearts,
And comfort us with compassion
For whatever life imparts.

She can tickle us with humor,
Hidden within her rhymes;
Or hug us through her verses
And smile between the lines.

Her poetry is a precious gift,
A timeless treasure from her soul,
That is offered from her gentle hand
To all she comes to know.

Beauty surrounds the words she writes;
Love is shared from heart through pen;
I am proud to call her "friend:.



I wrote this poem for two of my nieces and nephews that are autistic.
They are two of the most beautiful children I have ever seen in my life and 
I love them more then I can even say.
Wild Thing


                               Riding the Rainbow

I met you on a sunny day
you both so dear to me
the angels whispered of their love
when you but glanced at me.

  Your eyes so deep and full of wonder
yet far away in lands I know not of.
But oh those moments when our eyes do meet
and touch the land of our soul where  love grows fonder.

  Where do you go on your trips so far away?
Is an angel riding with you all the way?
I think that is true, that angel, is there
guarding you closely no matter where.  

  My arms when they hold you and your
hand reaches out so gently and kind
with all that is in you, and sadness we leave behind
to share that moment in time as I enter the door

  You take that precious moment
and draw me into your world.
Oh to know what you are thinking
the treasures unfurled.

  And yet my heart somehow knows
there is one language we speak-
that of love and of caring every being does seek.
A glance at me tells me you know that I care
and  your smile that brightens the world that we share.

  The ride on the rainbow you give to one and all.
The colors are many and a gift to us all.
You invite me on that ride as you take my hand.
An invitation like that is the best in the land.

  A ride not cluttered with dramas and fears
but of hope and excitement of things yet to come.
"Come see where I am walking" "Stay with me my friend"
Your hand it does invite us all and behind it my tears.
Tears of hope and of patience in knowing your heart.
Tears of love and excitement for each new day you start.

  A ride on your rainbow is sweet and sincere
the angel she leads us along paths so clear.
Your deep eyes they sparkle of joy and travels near
for in that moment in time we have no fear.

  I thank you for the ride on the rainbow my dears
the blues, greens and purples ,yellows and pinks of the sphere
No words need be spoken our hearts do the rest
this is one of those moments that is simply the best.

  So Sarah and Bronson you live in my heart
and I thank you for the rides on the rainbow
that keep us from ever truly being apart.

Wild Thing
August 18,2004


For Nicholas with love.......


A gentle touch upon your face
A kind word to heal your soul
A feeling that you can't replace
Wrapped in love to make you whole

A hand that reaches out to you
A hug that makes you smile
Taking the time to accept each other
A love that depends with each  mile

A loving look that expresses all
A thoughtful gift is granted
Significant weather big or small
Showing love is all they wanted

Wild Thing




A Nam Vets private date....

**** written for all my 
beloved Nam Vets

He sat by the fire, reading an ancient book of poems of the heart,
His tears were from his heart, each a testament to his past, of places and of love and all it brings to life.

Finding words that touched his emotions, some powerful enough to smart,
unfolding inside his mind a world only he truly knows, surging with joy and strife all mixed together, rippling over like waves of emotion, good and bad.

In silence he reads, and lives the words within himself, the battleground of the heart,
no word spoken, no sound lost, he travels the range of emotion, a solo traveler of the soul.
A strength in his face as he lives the poets mind , as in pictures of times gone by, be it coach or cart,
the trip is his to make alone, and his to share at his choosing, or perhaps when he survives the journey with his heart whole.

Softly crackling the fire burns, pale beside the glow of his mindís fire at written word,
bringing to life the world within and he is alive to each word, the poem is his soul mate.
An evening of memories , and sometimes a good cry, to release him from the moment as a rising bird,
swept away, carried away, he travels a hidden world by his softly crackling fire .......a private date.

Wild Thing




The Shadows at my Side









Written by......
RM Cook Barela....served in Nam 1967-1968 as a machine gunner
w/1st platoon, India Company 3/7, 1st Marine Division

I turned quickly to catch a glimpse of the shadows at my side.
The images and companions are mine forever more.
Gifts they are from a far and distant war.

Quick and vague, dark and grey
Always faster than my gaze
Far from my vision, yet so very near.

Are they friend or foe?
The spirits of those I loved in war?
Or, are they the devils demons
Come out to settle a score?

I do not fear them or what they represent
Displaced shadows, impressions of my soul.

They stand there in the doorways of another world
That all warriors must enter when they kill in war.

A warrior hears what others cannot hear.
A warrior sees what others cannot see.

A warrior smells what others cannot smell.

A warrior tastes what others cannot taste.
A warrior feels what others cannot feel.
A warrior senses what others cannot sense.

Always at my side, the Shadows in silence they abide.




(c)1998 - Dennis Johnson


I hear them calling in the night
When my world is calm and quiet.

They speak to me in words I would not hear,
Yet their voices won't be silenced.

They beseech me with whispers.
Asking, 'why were we left?

They cannot understand.
The wind carries their questions.
The stars shine down as tears.
The moon becomes their faces.

And I have no answer worth speaking.......



Poetry to me is like a light in the window on a stormy night.
Curling up in a big overstuffed chair by the glow of a fireplace.
And with laughter , tears or a smile crossing my face ,
 to read the soul of  another as I enter the world they know.
It is more then special it is nodding and knowing that
soul and heart.
Wild Thing