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Christianity Oasis Ministry has provided you with this Soul Searching Poems book with Soul Searching Poems messages. This Soul Searching Poems book with Soul Searching Poems messages looks into the Soul Searching Poems topic and asks what are Soul Searching Poems, what are the Soul Searching Poems messages and how can the Soul Searching Poems messages enhance your life. This Soul Searching Poems book looks into the Soul Searching Poems messages and how they can affect your Christian walk. Understanding the Soul Searching Poems messages is very important and knowing what the Soul Searching Poems messages mean can help you to understand many things more clearly. Let us delve into this Soul Searching Poems book and find what this author has to share on the subject of the Soul Searching Poems messages in this Soul Searching Poems book, shall we?








"The Tundra Drifter's Gallery"
By William A. Tatum



This poet has spent nearly 30 years working and wandering throughout the beautiful state of Alaska while marveling at its incomparable wildlife and scenery. A life-long fan of poetry, I began writing when I became temporarily disabled in 1997 as an attempt to capture life in this universe in the form of rhyming epics. Alaskan poetry is only a minute part of my work and the stories in this book have been challenging and fun to tell in rhymes!



Spirit of 53
Vagabond Paws
The Captain's Tale
A Dinosaur of Lore
Sock Heaven
Farewell, Columbia
Friends By a Thread
Prince Andre
King Sebastian
My Last Bow
Poetry Afoot
The Sea & Me
A Tale of Sherwood
A Walk Into Heaven
My Flighty Friend
Remnants: The Iraq Attack


Spirit of 53


A booming year, in '53,

the mid-point of last century;

Our nation was at peace, once more

by ending the Korean war.


A new star saw the light of day

when GM sold the first Stingray.

A postage stamp was just 3 cents,

with unemployment-3 percent.


Another leader came to power

when we elected Eisenhower.

The British must have wept and sighed

the day their famed Queen Mary died.


The film of 1953

was "From Here To Eternity".

The drive-in theatres were the rage

and sci-fi had just come of age.


The first year cinematic screen

became the largest ever seen;

we watched invaders come from Mars

while "It" came toward us from the stars.


Most readers gaped and read wide-eyed,

the first Playboy and T.V. guide.

The Yankees won the world series

by bringing Brooklyn to their knees.


And looking to the "race track" side,

"Dark Star" became Kentucky's pride.

One Randall Jarrell took the stage

with his book "Poetry and the Age".


While music pulsed with "swing & jive",

the jitterbug was still alive.

The world had not yet heard of "soul",

rap, heavy metal...rock-n-roll.


We heard the horn of Harry James

and crooning songs from Brothers Ames.

Although the era slipped away,

its memories are here to stay.

A booming year, in '53-

the year this poet came to be...




Vagabond Paws


At the start of the engine,

he jumps to his feet,

making tracks to his cockpit

and into his seat.


This roaming companion,

who's one of a kind

is the finest co-pilot

a traveler will find.


He's a great navigator

from down in his spot

and he loves a long trek

whether scenic or not.


He's seen enough highway

to guide his own tours

and when eatin' time comes,

he will eat his AND yours!


The sound of the wheels

putting miles far behind

and the wind in his face

are like magic, combined,


but just slow down or turn

any way, shape or form

and this four-legged gypsy

will bark up a storm!


Wherever we travel,

whatever the cause,

we won't move an inch

without "Vagabond Paws"!




The Captain's Tale


I stood aboard the ancient ship

that long outlived her crew,

and proudly, I made good a vow

to make her sail like new.


She'd reefed ashore so long ago

with no identity,

and fell prey a host of tales

about her "entity".


When rifling through a box one day,

I'd found 'neath lock and key,

The Captain's log, reporting how

the crew was lost at sea.


A memoir in the captain's hand

was entered in the log.

his final-yet-coherent words

described a blinding fog.


They weathered until morning

when the fog had finally cleared.

The captain was in shock to find

his crew had disappeared.


I heard their voices echoing

in ghastly, distant cries

Then, suddenly appeared the specter

right before my eyes!


There stood the figure of a man

obscured by fading light.

Not standing firmly on the deck,

he was a ghostly sight!


His deep-set eyes with bushy brows

and long, grey scraggly beard,

a ruddy face and bullish stance

that sailors must have feared!


"What brings you here aboard my ship?"

demanding in protest.

"I'm here to send you on your way

to put your souls to rest!"


"The lighthouse beam went dark too soon

and blinded you from shore;

Your aimless boat was run aground

and sailed the sea no more."


"According to the log, it's been

one hundred years to date;

You've fixed her and it's time to flee

the bondage of our fate!"


"You must've spent the century

in search of Heaven's Gate;

Tonight I'll put you on our way

before it is too late."


And on that night, came fog and rain

and pulled the ship asea.

The crew emerged, the captain yelled,

"Our souls are finally free!"


Somewhere aboard the fading ship,

was heard the distant quip

of Captain's voice, who roared in boast:

"I never left my ship!"




A Dinosaur of Lore


Seekers 'round the world obsess

about a creature in Loch Ness;

A species thought to be extinct

yet rendered proof is indistinct.


Some folks contend she's long died out,

while others say she lurks about.

She seemingly comes up and gloats,

evading sonar from their boats.


This part cryptozoology

and wee bit of mythology,

has kept researchers mystified

as something unidentified.


Some fifteen hundred year-old lore

shows carvings of a dinosaur,

the perfect likeness of our star

who's ducked captivity, thus far.


A question lingers as to when

she made her way into the Glen

She's enigmatic and, what's more,

she's said to be a plesiosaur.


If "Nessie's" proven out a fake,

she'll change the spirit of that lake.

What really dwells beneath Loch Ness

is anybody's fondest guess.




Sock Heaven


A fate to which we all are proned

with every pair we've ever owned,

 it happens to our favorite pair

 as one dissolves into thin air!


Once the laundry has been done,

what left as two, returns as one.

the one sock comes back nice and clean-

its mate is never again seen,


or magically, "if" both come back,

the one is blue, the other-black!

The search is on to find those socks

from hampers, trash to litter box,


continuing behind the doors,

in closets, dressers, beds and floors-

You probably thought you'd never miss

the one that found the deep abyss...


Once ZAPPED as with a magic wand,

it's doomed to meet the "Great Beyond."

We victims have the right to know,  

"Where DO those other half-pairs go?"


I heard one soul confess and say,

his "wreaked" so foul it hopped away!

To keep his tootsies smelling sweet,

he now parades in "sock-less" feet!


To better fight the "lost-sock-blues,"

just tape your pant legs to your shoes,

 or hide the fact that one was lost,

 by sitting with the ankles crossed!


Perhaps one striped and one argyle

will come to be the latest style?

Until then, "Makers hear our plea:

Why don't they come in pairs of  three?"




Farewell, Columbia


It was seventeen years

since our nation shed tears

from the loss of the Challenger crew


to the horrific way

and almost to the day,

the disaster repeated anew.


There were echoing cries

as the wrath of the skies

opened up to claim seven more lives.  


As it came into view,

the Columbia's crew

left their families, husbands and wives.


leaving tears in their wake

from another heartbreak,

all so quickly, the seven were gone


but the memories engraved

in our hearts will be saved

where the seven forever live on.




Friends By a Thread


Up late at my desk

with my eyes in a book,

                      a visitor dropped in                        

for perhaps a close look.


Hanging precariously

on the end of a thread

was a resident spider

in front of my head.


I was keenly amused

as he stayed in suspension,

this eight-legged creature

who got my attention.


The curious arachnid

who saw me below

felt the need to come down

just to say his "Hello".


This meeting became

an ongoing affair

with the nightly descendings

from high in the air.


I miss staying up

for my frequent all-nighter

to be entertained

by that dangling spider


as one night I discovered

while searching up high,

my friend disappeared

without saying "Goodbye."




Prince Andre'


This short-legged fellow,

animatedly fun...

In his own little way,

he's like having a son.


He has black curly hair

and a salty goatee;

With the curls in his eyes,

we're amazed he can see.


At the drop of a pin,

he brave-heartedly yaps.

After saving the day,

he jumps into our laps.


When he catches a whiff

of our meal in the air,

he will sit down and join us

with a pitiful stare.


If he thinks we ignore him,

he'll sit there and brood

and continue to stare

till we offer him food.


To keep us amused,

for his usual treat,

after visiting a tree,

he'll dance on his loveseat.


He's a wonderful sport

who deserves all he gets,

since he rooms with the cats,

our two other house pets!




King Sebastian


An old curmudgeon, stiff and gray

who seems to sleep his life away

and former ruler who was crowned

the best mouse catcher all around.


Now in the twilight of his years

as age and blindness swiftly nears.

What once was called his hearty roar

is now a squeak and nothing more.


To some, he seems to have his flaws,

this blind old cat with no front claws.

To our surprise, he'll sometimes do

an energetic feat, or two


like dazzle us when time to feed

by showing us his sudden speed.

And though too blind to catch a mouse,

he's still the lion of the house.


One day, a mouse ran past that cat,

who looked at us like, "What was that?"

For him, we never have to search,

beyond his sunny sofa perch.


The sound of thunder coming near

still makes him "cringe" and disappear.

Our home would never be the same

if King Sebastian never came.




My Last Bow


Before I meet trail's end in life

and my lot has been bought,

and said all that I'll ever say,

I'll leave with one last thought:


I chose directions best I could

and made my mark in life;

Left lingering memories, bad and good

(One good...I took a wife!)


I settled down in later years

and like to think "matured,"

maintaining hopes and conquering fears

was how I had endured.


So don't grieve for me, my days are gone.

The story's over now;

In truth, you see, I'll travel on,

once taking my last bow.




Poetry Afoot


It seems I've chased forever now,

the woman by the stream


and waited long for her to show

like waiting for a dream.


When mist and Sun meet at the dawn,

she dances as she nears.


And only then, to catch a glimpse

before she disappears.


An ageless face, a flowing gown,

a sound is never heard.


Without the slightest utterance,

no, not a single word.


So taken by her hair and garb,

as though from centuries past,


perhaps she walked this way the day

that came to be her last.


Alas, I'll keep returning here

to watch this lovely mime


forever, or until she fades,

this vision caught in time.




The Sea & Me


Like my father before,

I have wandered the shore

where the sands and the seas were my home.


At the end of the day,

with the crowds gone away,

I'd return to my playground to roam.


It's a world of its own

like no other I've known,

where the moon-glittered sea meets the sky,


with the brine-scented breeze

blowing in from the seas,

I'd encounter a pastoral high.


I would often explore

countless treasures ashore

where they beached when they came with the tide,


and for hours, I'd sift

through those "jewels" left adrift

where they'd rest from a turbulent ride.


There were times when I'd sit

at the end of the spit,

watching ships come and go through the night


At the set of the moon,

I would disappear soon

and be gone by the morning's first light.




A Tale of Sherwood


A legend from the middle ages

sprang out of Sherwood.

It told a tale that changed the pages

of a Robin Hood.


Some say he was a group of men

who plundered far and wide.

Together, roaming through the glen,

they fleeced the countryside.


Another tale depicts one man

whose story had begun

emerging as a nobleman,

the Earl of Huntington.


One day he chose to help the poor

and shed his royal attire

to wage and unexpected war

on lords of Nottinghamshire.


Along the way, he made a friend

Who proved both brave and true.

One Little John, who, to the end

Would see their battles through.


Of Prince John, who was then ruling

the peasants were afraid.

He taxed while "Lionheart", the king

was fighting a crusade.


The overlords became corrupt

and took more than their share

'till Robin's men came to disrupt

and stop them everywhere.


They hid in numbers by the road

to greet the nobles there,

then separate them from their load

and give the poor their share.


Sir Robin was the finest aim,

by light of day or dark.

A marksman worthy of his name,

his arrows found their mark.


When Lionheart returned from war

Sir Robin made a friend.

The unjust kingdom was no more

with quite a happy end.


Maid Marion, Robin's secret love

was offered as his bride.

Accepting her and all thereof,

the life they'd both abide.


There stands a headstone time has saved

that bears our hero's name.

Medieval poetry, there engraved

as homage to his fame...




A Walk Into Heaven


If you live the way that God intends

on faith, by day and night,


He'll show you how his spirit mends

by walking in the light.


A one-to-one relationship

with God will set you free,


evoking praises from your lips

and cause your eyes to see.


Seeing hope in everything

where darkness once prevailed,


you'll thank him for delivering

a life that would have failed!




My Flighty Friend


One beautiful morning,

and before my first cup,

a commotion outside

began waking me up!


My neighbor, named "Bob,"

boldly summoned me out

since he saw by the lights

I was up and about.


Apparently wanting

to visit and chat,

this continued outside

on the porch where we sat.


As a ritual, I always

offer a snack

which is probably why

he keeps coming back.


Our dialog is lacking,

confusing at best.

Once I bid him "good morning"

he says all the rest.


Though our languages differ

we have understanding,

which helps things along

and is never demanding.


This bantering would probably

stir up some laughter

if listeners could know

what my friend is here after.


At the end of our ritual,

he always takes flight,

as he whistles his name,

the familiar "Bob White."




Remnants: The Iraq Attack


Some deep in the giants,

some high in the air

and all doomed to perish

but yet unaware,


as looming above,

the dark forces at hand

would wreak terror & horribly

malign our great land.


A band of disciples

from Hell's darkest mires

ripped the cores from our hearts

with explosions and fires.


The tragedy came

in the wink of an eye

and would seem like forever

to those who would die.


In horror, we looked

as they crashed to the ground;

Through the rubble and smoke,

a few living were found.


The giants are gone,

countless souls are now perished,

but the memories of those

whom we loved will be cherished.


Our freedom has come

at immeasurable cost.

We must pray for the families

of those who were lost.







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