|Winter Wins©Page 5 of 6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6)|
|Winter is the manifest presence of the announcement of intended death of all living things. As nature intended, it is the lowered curtain on Life’s Stage.|
Cold, Winter’s dreadful child, seeps in as the silent assassin of warm comfort and displays its presence through exhaled vapor of those beings still managing to survive its’ slow, icy strangulation.
Some, more hearty creatures, manage to survive several onslaughts of Winter, but eventually Winter wins.
Posted: 10/29/2009 2:11:58 PM
|Silent gliding appeared to be her mode of motion, for no sounds were ever heard, save the subtle rustling of her skirt as she’d pass by. In her passing, I beheld only briefly her ageless, unlined face cropped by flowing flocks of ebony hair …wisps of her fragrance lingered as an enchanted memory upon the cool air. My senses became re-awakened and alive as I drank in the essence of her being.|
No, I wasn’t dreaming … but recalling.
The strangling emotions in knowing I’d never again hold her … never again see her face … never again be near her, restricted my ability to breathe. My existence was lessened through reluctant acceptance of that truthful knowledge and my vision momentarily blurred as deep, involuntary sense of loss was born within me.
For recurring periods of time, there is nothing else in my world, save her memory, all consuming and mesmerizing.
And so it goes … day in … day out … month after agonizing month …
Loss … the forever empty abyss … known only to me … she … and God.
Posted: 12/6/2009 9:39:56 AM
|When will you meet her … or him?|
You already did … but, sadly, the moment passed without being embraced.
Now, too late, that moment is recognized for what it was: the golden ring of opportunity.
Hesitation can be the harbinger of regret, and regret the burial ground of dreams.
Posted: 2/21/2010 12:41:56 PM
|I remember way back when,|
I couldn’t have been more than ten
On a dusty road with my cane-pole
Powdered dust ‘tween my bare toes
Walkin’ with no cares or woes
To the Covered Bridge and fishin’ hole
Taking up my time by walkin’ slow
Wond’rin’ ‘bout things I didn’t know
Time moved on, I became a teen
I met “her”, - she was serene
Entering my life, she made it bright
We held hands and we would dance
The world it sparkled with romance
And we’d go walkin’ late at night
Taking up our time by walkin’ slow
Wond’rin’ ‘bout things we didn’t know
High school days were left behind
My college grades were quite a “grind”
‘Cause my thoughts were back home with “my girl”
Then she met somebody new
They held hands like we used to
My mind and grades were sent into a “whirl”
Taking up my time while walkin’ slow
Wond’rin’ ‘bout the way that I should go
After Graduation Day
I found a job with decent pay
I began to get on with my Life
I met her at the City Park
Instantly I felt the spark
I’d ask Lila if she’d be my wife
Taking up our time while walkin’ slow
Talkin‘ ‘bout the things we didn’t know
That’s now been four kids ago
Lila and I watched them grow
Seeing all the things that they went through
Kids have married, now they’re gone
Time has a way of moving on
Sometimes I wonder where the time went to
Lila and I talked while walkin’ slow
Laughin’ ‘bout the things we think we know
I lost my Lila this past year
Oh my, how I miss You Dear
In my heart you’ll always ring a chime
And now I think back or’ the years
Filled with joys and filled with tears
And I wonder when will come My Time
Through this lonely house I’m walkin’ slow
Wond’rin’ ‘bout things I’ll never know
Life is only one short ride
Like the flowing of the tide
First it rushes in – and then it ebbs
I have taken my Life’s ride
And I have my peace inside
With no problems – with no tangled webs
I’ll see what lies ahead while walkin’ slow
Where God needs me, is where I’ll go.
Posted: 1/29/2012 7:31:59 AM
|In times of solitude, when her thoughts drifted backward into the wake of her past, the wrongs, outside her realm of control (provided by fate and circumstance), silently screamed in protest of the losses and shortcoming they provided her for the rest of her life. Often those moments culminated in the flow of unanswered tears.|
Sadly, she wasn’t and isn’t unique in those moments. Millions of persons have the same experiences. What separates one from the other, are their methods of coping with those moments. Some have more successful results than others.
As time advanced, and age accumulated, the visitations to the wake of life became more and more frequent. There came a time in that procession where she retrograded and relegated herself into constantly reliving the events contained in that wake. In doing so the misery provided by past fate and circumstance became her constant and continual companion.
At some point in her past, the opportunity to change her future presented itself, but, either she didn’t recognize it for what it was, or having recognized it elected – for whatever reason – to ignore it.
She is now, and forevermore, trapped in her past, doomed to relive it without any possibility of reprieve or relief. Her advancing age no longer leaves enough time to allow an expectation of successfully engaging attempts to reverse the cocoon of the past in which she has surrounded herself.
There are millions of such lives – and we go on oblivious to their plight, and ignorant of their pain.
The waste that indecision can provide is monumental when it comes to such lives.
|Queen of the Rails©|
Posted: 2/24/2012 5:25:15 PM
|The engine: Long and black|
And sleek as she could be
She shook the earth in her approach
It was her heraldry.
A wake of steam and smoke
Hovers o’er the rails
Of hardened steel and wooden ties
Which her magnificence assails
Massive is her presence
Enormity her design
Power is her excess
This Queen is so refined
She rules again with majesty
Today while she’s in view
But … sadly this is the time,
Last accolades are due
Slowly as she comes to rest,
We see she’s thoroughbred
Where water, steel and hard, black coal
Together have been wed.
In regal-ness she’s resplendent
With fittings’ shining bright
Her radiance commands respect
On this – her final flight.
Now sitting at the siding
Puffing rhythmic breath
A far away museum will,
Of her life commit its’ theft.
Photographs will mimic
Her image of today
But missing from those photos:
The Glories of Yesterday
When o’er the steel she thundered
Demanding from all who saw
Her massive immense power
Which held them all in awe.
But Glory, she found, was fleeting
When “progress” came to call
Her future then was set in stone
Like the writing on the wall.
Now we hear the brake release …
Her throttle then is moved …
She inches down the track
There on the landscape grooved
Then as she gains her breath
And whistles out her yell
An announcement for all to hear:
“Goodbye! Hope I’ve served you well!”
She’s journeyed through the ages
And this boy – an old man now -
Watches as she fades away
And waves, as he yells: “Ciao!”
But in his mind is yesteryear
With his dog there by his side
Standing near the railroad tracks
Where Queen-of-the-Rails did ride.
And long from now whenever
He says: “Remember when …”
It will be those times to him
She’ll come alive … again.
Posted: 3/11/2012 8:10:26 AM
|Those things we will always remember …|
When your daughter calls you “Daddy” – no matter what her age …
When someone gives you an accolade – even better when it comes from your Dad …
The inner feeling of your chest swelling, when you KNOW, you did something good for someone else …
When you witness, or learn of, a serious tragedy …
A breath-taking sunset …
That first down-hill red-wagon ride …
The first sight of your child …
The emotion-generating casual touch of your spouse as they pass your chair …
A child’s smile, when you compliment them …
These are the motivational essences which compel us to look forward to … tomorrow.
And … not one of them involve money.
Posted: 3/21/2012 6:02:08 PM
|Whimsy? … you know not.|
Game playing? … not your repertoire
I believe you above those things,
For the former are so bourgeois
I see you on a pedestal
Where always you have been …
Not within your own eyes
But in the mind I keep you in
Your interest does not allow
Reality only sometimes
Does your mind endow
The realm I see you in …
The domain where you hold sway
Has always been: What can be …
Of things not yet today
Only angels have documents
That authorize access to …
The realm in which you live
… and that’s where I hold you.
I am not deserving …
An ugly poster child I be
But I can stand afar … and …
Enjoy the angel that I see.
Posted: 3/21/2012 6:12:59 PM
Posted: 3/21/2012 7:50:12 PM
|... thank you, Sabetha. I see, too, that you are poet ... and I am looking forward to additional original pennings from you ... right here ...|
|Poster Child for Ugly©|
Posted: 3/22/2012 4:57:28 PM
|A pseudonym identifies|
But only as a name
No statement is intended
No character proclaimed
My name: It’s a private thing
Acceptable … or not.
To others, not the owner,
To change it – is a naught
Are born of friendships old
Using them over time
Can render souls consoled
In a mind a friendship
Can live forever more
Even when’ cut too short
By some senseless damning war
The thread that holds together
‘tween me and my lost friend
Is the name I’ve given me.
Posted: 4/4/2012 2:03:05 PM
What we say in this Life
Means less than what we do
But … What we do in this Life
Defines both me … and you …
We journey roads less traveled
Or maybe traffic filled
But less or more is moot of point
If beauty’s left instilled
Within the hearts of others
Or of a thought compelled
Which roots-out ugliness
With hatred there expelled
An angel in your dream-room
Where loveliness abounds
Emits all your joyfulness … and
In my mind the sounds resound.
Posted: 4/5/2012 5:05:50 PM
|Life is just a pause between eternities|
Death is but a door to cleanse our agonies
On the other side of Death … is a door named: Birth
When it opens up – we start a new Life here on Earth.
So …Death cannot be permanent,
‘tis just a stepping stone …
An interruption in a cycle
Of what’s eternally our cologne
Which is for now and always
Life’s own essence blessed
When we inhale that fragrance
‘tis Eternity we’ve caressed.
Posted: 4/8/2012 5:12:27 AM
|On days which went not right|
Then when evening came to be
I miss the hands and voice
That brought me normalcy
The remembered days of triumph
When laughter filled the air
Joy-tears welled my eyes … and
Her presence was always there
In sickness and in sorrow
Through all the thicks and thins
Standing there beside me
The woes she’d help me cleanse
When harsh words or arguments
Invaded tranquil scenes
Her understanding gentleness
Returned the good routines
Situation and circumstance
And twists that fate allow
Caused it all to go away
And oh … I miss her now.
Posted: 4/10/2012 5:57:07 PM
|Ah! You of Youth!|
You can’t see me
But … where you are,
I used to be.
I’ve crossed over
And …you will, too
Birth and Death –
They’re nothing new.
But, what you do
While you’re alive
Governs if you will
Be deprived …
Posted: 4/11/2012 6:11:31 AM
|But now, the bond|
Which we had spoke
Is no more
It’s gone. It’s broke.
The dreams contained
Within that trust
Have all spilled out …
They lie in dust
For the oath of comrades
You pledged to be
Is Crushed into
Just … reverie.
And I, betrayed,
Will trust no more
That you’ve foreswore
Posted: 4/13/2012 8:39:47 AM
|They ring in ears for years to come|
As chords of hurtfulness they strum
And resonate on mental strings:
All those spoken, hurtful things.
Those who spoke the hurtful words
Which roll like balls of billiards
Inside our heads eternally
Care not of damage they don’t see
But all the pain, their words have caused
Which haunts us every time we’ve paused
Will form our lives and mold our fate
And of our lives will educate
And of their words we can’t forget
No longer do we fear nor fret
For there are higher planes we see
On which to place our normalcy
They are nothing and will be gone
Even tho’ their hurtful words live on
Forgiveness we may one day let …
But hurtful words we won’t forget.
Posted: 4/13/2012 9:06:33 AM
what they want to
the words they say
then hang the other
when they've had a bad day...
Posted: 4/13/2012 8:23:29 PM
Yes ... true enough. I enjoyed your post, as I'm sure others will, who read your posts. You're welcome here anytime ... PC4U
Posted: 4/13/2012 8:26:21 PM
|you should write another poem and quit with this useless chatter...|
|The To-Do List©|
Posted: 4/14/2012 11:06:00 AM
|So … what are the things|
Which we must do
Before our journey here is through
Dare we then construct a list
Before our time here is dismissed?
We must pay heed unto the child
Whether orphaned or beguiled
To assure they know not prejudice
Which only feeds the villainous
Charity, too, must be addressed
And those in need be re-assessed
To ensure that they in their Life
Should have to face less pain and strife
We need to spread but joy and love
To where the eagle spares the dove
With “enemy” a word expelled
Where Peace in Life is then upheld
Famine then needs be decreed
As useless and without a need
No one ever should go to bed
Without consuming daily bread
And shelter, too, must make our list
Before our final breath is hissed
For Life’s storms can be damaging
Protection then does shelter bring.
Pursuits of dreams unfettered be
Those we seek so actively
To enhance the World – and then beyond
Of all these things we gave grown fond
The List remains but incomplete
For each of us must strive to meet
The inner calling that we hear
To help mankind to all adhere.
Posted: 4/18/2012 11:46:33 AM
|Words I write are very, very rarely directed at an individual, and even more rarely do they criticize or condemn. Only do I pen such missives as clarifications or adulations. The rest of my writing is of a general scope and, if read and re-read without a personalization of any kind, can be seen as just that. I hold malice for no living soul – certainly not angels. “Won’t Forget” was penned for a fellow volunteer worker, who had been nearly spiritually devastated by thoughtless, intentionally hurtful comments from a third party – I just happened to also place it here in this forum – in two locations.|
|Then … Is it Lost?©|
Posted: 1/22/2013 8:42:49 PM
|The traveller reeked of weariness,|
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He’d come a million league.
Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.
Hard roads had been his travel
With pains chiselled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Around I saw no motion there, then …
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me …
Suffering in his eyes.
So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him …
But knew not how to start
Within his laboured breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique
His lips began to form the words …
Then said; “My name is: Union Man,
I’m a father; I’ve worked hard;
… always done the best I can.”
“The road’s become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can’t propel
I’ve tried to move on and forward …
But, was struck here … and I fell.
“There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must keep moving forward,
This mustn’t be my end.
“So now I reach out to you
Together we’ve never failed
I’m turning now to you
‘Fore on hardships I’m impaled”.
A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Union Man
But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can’t be lent …
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I’m Your Government.
Posted: 3/3/2013 2:48:04 PM
|We are forever joined, you and I. When one soul feels the pain – the other also sheds the tears. I believe our spirits were joined when our souls touched on the day we first communicated. The planes on which we wander are melded, not parallel, because they have crossed and re-crossed one another many times – in other lifetimes as well as this one. What we experience is beyond mere friendship – it transcends the physical and defies time or distance.|