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Home > Author > R. Steven Reynolds
 
R. Steven Reynolds

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Member Since: Jul, 2003

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  R. Steven Reynolds           

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Poetry is sharing a part of yourself with others that are willing to listen with their hearts.


Background Information

I have been writing on and off since high school. Started writing again in 2001. I had a high school teacher Ms Murphy who encouraged me to be a writer. After a military career traveling the globe I came back home. I have owned my own garage, done security work and protective services for the US Government, been a police officer, technician, cook, cowboy, rodeo rider, detective, soldier, ranch hand and a drunk. I write or make notes daily. I have one novel published, Ghost Ranger and I am working on my second novel. I love doing the research for my poems and stories. I hope to find an agent. I am not adverse to constructive criticisms and will appreciate all comments. Thank you for allowing me to share my poems and stories. If you email me please use Author's Den in the title or subject block. I wrote the following to express my feelings about poetry.

 

 

Traveling the Green Road

I first saw him standing there smiling, beguiling
His countenance at peace, his presence out of place
Wearing an old woolen great coat tattered and worn
You couldn't call him a hobo, homeless or a bum
He appeared distinguished, and striking in appearance.
I saw no musical instrument yet he seemed a minstrel.
I approached him, curiosity coursing through my mind
I said, "Pray thee Sir how does the world know you?"
He opened his mouth to speak, I heard an Irish lilt
I smelled the heather and heard the music of Erin
He looked through me and said, "I am the wanderer.
The roaming vagabond, the wayfarer, the Irish gypsy!"
I saw neither bedroll nor baggage in the vicinity.
So I inquired politely, "Pray Sir where doth thou stay?"
Still smiling, he spread his arms open wide and turned.
Then bringing forth from his pocket he showed a book
A well-worn book covered in leather with gilded pages
I had to squint to read the words hand written within :

"These words are my own,
they are and will be mine alone
So please of them take care,
when with you I choose to share
For these words are my comfort,
to me they're of great import
They let me travel where I may,
These words are my hideaway"



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