On The Wonder of Age

Today is the birthday of an elder,

a daughter just lost her father,

a young boy,

playing in a culvert,

watching handmade wooden ships

float toward the sewer,

no judgment in mind,

simple childhood,

with an elder keeping his welfare

in mind.

 

We wonder sometime about the truth

in aging, the wisdom found,

the mistakes we wish to take bake

yet now we simply go on living

appreciating sometime

the turn of the coin

where once we believed this,

now we are forever asking for

sweet forgiveness

because with age

comes for some a sense of

quiet humility.

 

Oh do answer the question

that when under the knife

my body shut down

for modern medicine

did I go anywhere

with my dreams

beyond waking again,

seemingly fixed

yet forever drawn

to wondering just why.

 

The age of this my freedom

Will by my silent fiefdom

Advertisements

Some Times While Waiting

Easily we might understand the loss of time,

when we did hope there would be some remind

of a sweeter revenue

in the gifts of our humankind.

 

So often is it true when we wake

from a lesson learned,

an anxious melody of circumstance,

and gathering our senses seem surreal.

 

Walking along the avenue, we notice

a person lost inside their own reality,

yet to the onlooker,

for deep within we know not their serenity.

 

Cast a shadow upon this my truth,

while the world around me does

restore me some time to when in my youth,

I knew only love, only peace … in my youth.

While Listening To Time

There it was,

again,

a reminder

seems steeping,

nearly scalding water,

the verses played on and on,

like droplets, an emotional victory,

my intuition lay so naked

surroundings familiar,

I played the violin

mindful song

again,

There it was

second

all it took,

a simple thought

I could travel then, away

for miles while a melody played

inside my heart a resonate

reminder of (her) a love

mindful splendor

now stay a

second.

There is when

soft

a single note,

a sudden urgency

a crying, mellow solace …

certainly the beauty in emotion

drawn by the keys of a piano, torn …

There it is,

then.

Sitting in my Armchair

I was remembering a time,

when I was younger,

a quiet, reflective, young,

boy.

I think the same feelings existed

way back then,

when,

I would wonder about

whatever might be ahead.

There were different

sets of friends.

Or at least we felt different,

wait …

 

Time delivers chapters

to our daily lives,

when once this chair

felt sturdier,

the painted varnish glistened,

in the sunporch,

with books laid about,

some would call them

strewn,

alongside periodicals and

the evening Telegraph

I suppose.

 

It hasn’t really changed too much,

the same stains will remain forever,

its justifiable reason,

told so many times over to whomever

might listen,

though we do occasionally recall,

back then,

well,

they did,

listen.

The Obituary

I wonder how they felt it might read,

summing up their life,

in a nutshell,

passing through all of the bad times,

focus upon the good, the energy, the meaning,

the society we live in deems the necessary truths.

If we knew,

would we then change our mind,

if we could stand in the back of the church,

see the weeping eyes,

the countless expressions of confusion,

would we,

care.

 

I wonder what mine will say today,

as compared to years from now,

which would be more attractive,

the present reality

or that seeming legacy that time forgot,

only the pain did always remain,

a constant,

within even a moment of relief,

there would be the memory of how many times,

we might have,

he might have,

thought differently than to withstand

normalcy.

 

Oh the papers they might read,

and then in a week or two,

there his ashes would be spread.

A Frozen Sonnet

When limbs of desire speak aloud elder

The crying wolf screams inside a shelter.

While hearts employ a certain reaction

When seduced word leave infatuations

~

In the comfort of time we rely upon

A circle of love suggest we live on

Perhaps as sun streaked skies radiant now

Will lives inherent in time speak of how.

~

Closely drawn is the passion to embrace

A responsive outlook on love’s dear Grace.

Try in earnest; recognize ageless time

For beauty in solace truly sublime.

~

I walked away abandoned fearful mind

Gentle tug of apprehension, remind.

 

20 Years

I stood on the corner

concrete monoliths

cracked surface scars

held the past in shaded

memories we created.

Now time gives way

to rooftop patios

the sounds of live acts

turned consumerism.

I stood on the corner,

looked at the faces,

wondered if any age lines

could recall my own

youthful stares,

the agony of a lonely

night outside sounds

of busy lives

passing through eyes

just an instance and gone.

I stood on the corner

welcomed a sigh

where the many hours,

the clever wording,

charms in intriguing posture

walked right by me again,

left me singing a quiet

melody in memory.

I stood on the corner,

and laughed to pass the time.