Comforting Words

Pain can possess

And redouble its sorrow.

Faced with a loss too enormous for knowing,

Feet fail

As backbones can’t carry the weight,

And eyes wash the riverbanks

To overflowing.

 

Silence sits colorless,

Listens only to itself.

No one wants to break its spell

With sullen gush of mindless voice.

 

But grows a need for duologue,

A word of comfort from a friend

Framed by simple elegance,

The proper time. The perfect choice.

 

“I’m here.”

“Don’t fear.”

“You’re not alone.”

“We’ll make it through this dark unknown.”

“Come sit a while and reminisce of

All the good times you were blessed.”

 

Don’t let your thoughts in sadness dwell

As all around you wish you well.

The supple heart, in time, can mend

With words of comfort from a friend.

 

The Great Unknown

A little scary, I would say,

That great ethereal unknown

Waiting, watching, unforgiving

On the shores of Brigadoon.

 

Never mind that life is brief

And time accelerates with age.

Loved ones leave to their reward

Always too soon. Much too soon.

 

And we are left to wait and wonder

When our number might be chose and

What may lie beyond horizons

Once mortality has flown.

 

Shall the soul ascend to find

The joys of everlasting peace

To reunite with loved-ones past,

To sit beside the highest throne?

 

Faith alone can move the stone,

Can shine a light where none has shone,

Assure us we are not alone

And guide us through the great unknown.

 

Dinner at Five

Traditions begin in the oddest of ways,

Often defying all logic and reason.

Unlike the rotation of the seasons,

Seemingly out of our sphere of control.

 

Holidays circled in red on the calendar,

Parties on birthdates or

Sundays in church.

All on a schedule determined by others,

Marking of milestones as patterns unfold.

 

Other traditions, more privy in nature, 

But just as important and more resolute

To the nature and nurture

Of everyday struggle,

The mire and the muddle of staying alive.

 

Like summer vacations on lullaby beaches

Escaping the hustling, bustling hive.

Snuggling close by the fireside in winter.

Date night by moonlight,

Dinner at five.

 

Taken for granted, these well-worn excursions

Often unmissed until they are gone.

Looking back now and remembering fondly.

Like dinner at five,

Tradition lives on.

 

Wrong Floor? Maybe Not

Elevator doors open and

Out I step into the hallway

Only to realize

Not my intended,

Not my floor.

Looking around to get better bearing

When down the corridor

Rolls my beloved.

So unexpected.

Oh, so delighted,

Whispers of joy to

My quaint sense of hearing.

 

Where have you come from?

Where are you going?

On second thought

Matters naught

Now you’re here.

Had I departed

When judgement imparted

This moment might never

Have happened, I fear.

 

Together at last.

Together for always.

Lilting with laughter or

Laden with tears.

 

Friends Will Understand

Some may judge and

Think you soft when tears

Become an alibi.

They cannot know, can’t comprehend

The storms that torment deep inside,

The razor wire that pricks and bleeds

Until resolve is washed away,

Where stillness mocks to terrorize

And leaves no harborage to hide. 

 

But softness holds no part of shame

When hearts are ripped and

Torn to shreds,

When loss is real and

Karma steals all reason of reality.

These wells are deep and

Filled with demons

Void of hope and sweet redemption,

Praying for extended hands

Straining to bear empathy. 

 

Each day a struggle to survive

On limbs of rubber, feet of sand.

Strangers mock and taunt and tease, but

Friends, true friends, will understand.

 

Remember the Good Times

I was looking through

Old photographs today

Through teary eyes and

Smiles and laughs and grins.

How many fools we suffered

In our time and toil.

How many lifetimes did

We live back then.

The people, pets and places

Of our precious past

Captured in a two-dimensional world

Come rushing back to fill my

Conscious memory,

Charging forth with

Battle flag unfurled.

The many who have met

Their sleep before us,

To claim affinity, so bittersweet.

But focus not the heartache

Of our parting

Or lay the grief of anguish at my feet.

Instead I will remember

All the good times,

The joy, the love so easily defined.

Then I can place my head

Upon my pillow

With gentle reminiscent

Peace of mind.

 

The Caregiver

Often given forth in silence,

No benefit of thanks in offing,

Needy expectations coughing

Up one chore

And then another.

Vigilant at midnight’s hour,

Standing watch upon the tower,

Praying for ancillary power

Til the night becomes a blur.

 

Loving hands and loving heart

Perform each duty willingly.

Nowhere else I’d rather be

Than right here steadfast by your side.

Comforting the path you travel

Knowing it may soon unravel,

Taking you to places my

Imagination cannot bide.

 

Rest my dearest.

Calm your fears.

Let me be your eyes and ears.

Walk no more in twilight’s gloam.

Let me lead you safely home.

 

So Alone

The soft sound of your familiar voice…

Silenced.

 

The sweet scent of your honeyed hair…

Faded.

 

The gentle pulse of your loving touch…

Muted.

 

The warm assurance of your welcomed hugs…

A memory.

 

You are here no more,

Yet you are here.

You sing no song

To calm my fear.

 

Your absence chills me

To the bone.

So lost. So lonely.

So alone.

 

On Being Prepared

There be toils aplenty in this life

For which the wary may prepare.

Like when your Mom warned you

To be sure and wear clean underwear.

Like saving for that rainy day

When rations ferret short supply,

Or soldiers never questioning

Why they must keep their powder dry.

 

Paths grow feet,

And streams bend swift

To seek the seas of distant lands,

And Perseus must watchful be

With sturdy sword and shield in hand.

And every child of every child

Must listen to the zephyr winds

To learn the truth of nature’s call

And know the seeds where day begins.

 

Wouldst in twilight bold advance,

Or in the eyes of darkness stare

Without the prudence of a plan?

Without the forethought to prepare?

 

From Where Did I Come?

I came from a small town.

I came from the country.

Born and raised in a world of unrest.

One of six siblings growing together

Through good times

And bitter times,

Put to the test.

 

I came from the rolling red hills

Of north Georgia.

I came from the green of the Emerald Isle.

I came from the moors, the

Highlands of Scotland,

The outcast of England o’er many a mile.

 

I fought the brave Norsemen who

Challenged the seas,

The Redcoats, the red men, the blue.

I fought for the Maine and the Alamo.

W W one and two.

I fought the red peril,

The cold and the hot,

And those who in terror profess.

I came from a lengthy tradition of freedom

That nothing and no one

Can ever suppress.

 

Starting Over – Getting Over

Feels so strange

Here without you,

Still and restless, cold and wrong.

I keep listening for your voice

But all my questions fall to dust

And echo off these empty walls

Til silence cries to the Thunder god.

 

You would not have me sitting here

In mournful sorrow, daylight wasting

Tasting bitter vinegar and hasting

Sundown calm my fear

That I shall never know again

Your gentle touch upon my cheek.

 

Starting over, such a task,

A burden heavier to bear

Than all the Herculean trials 

Of ancient heroes rolled to one.

 

They say I must get over you,

Move on with new purpose and direction.

I find myself lost, confused and alone

Somewhere between prospect

And quiet reflection.

 

Black Stallion – Gray Fox

Crystalline majesty abounds 

As black flanks and silver heels

Launch lightening to a crescent moon.

While crazed eyes of the willful beast

Gaze far beyond the mountaintop.

Who can tame him?

Who will name him?

Who dares blame his stubborn way?

Staunchly defiant.

Non-compliant,

Free to run another day.

 

Gray fox slips behind the screen of

Forest foliage stealthily, so many

Predators farther up the chain,

Courage effaced by the need for survival, 

Cunning and quickness the tools of his trade.

So many enemies

Akin to infinity

Wary and willing to hide.

Weary at end of day,

Wrestling to find a way,

Thankful to simply survive.

 

Black stallion – gray fox,

Creatures of Eden. Both

Grateful for being alive.

 

That Old Bucket List

What harm to dream?

To laugh?

To languish in

A world of fantasies

With all the possibilities?

Would fate be so unkind

Or thus inclined

To sore deny that piece of the pie

And thus, fulfill the thrill

Of bother be, the one

That holds the quiet key to

Peace of mind.

 

The list is quite long,

But will can be strong

So that if you insist

And enlist to persist

Good fortune will knock

With the key to unlock

Every portal confined in

The back of my mind,

And bring to fruition

That old bucket list.

 

Cousin Arthur – A Pain in the…

You cause me so much pain,

Vile bane of age

And foe of innocence,

You slave me to a curse

Of limitations I can scarce abide.

What once was snap

And quickly cinched

Is now a labor for the young

As I need only wait and watch

As though my hands were tied.

 

At least my mind maintains its bloom,

Though not as quick in raillery,

My inner sage has lost its rage

In favor of profundity.

But Arthur and his cousins foul:

Tendon, Bursa and Fasci,

Along with their accomplices

Breed deep and low and nasty.

 

I yield not to this terrorist

Nor any of his lot,

And if the bane resides in pain,

I’ll take all that he’s got.

 

Bingo Wednesday

Many, plenty, busy battles brew

To fuel a hectic week.

Often chiming, seldom rhyming,

Finding the right words to speak.

Washday Thursday,

Friday’s fury,

Shopping waits for Saturday.

Sunday worship, family dinners,

Monday morning bills to pay.

Tuesday finds no time for respite

Even though one seeks release.

Only Wednesday offers solace.

Bingo Wednesday

Brings sweet peace.

 

How can chaos bring such pleasure?

How can aggravation serve to

Soothe and salvage frantic frenzy,

Knowing dwindling vim and verve?

Hard to say where peace might muster.

It’s temporary anyway.

All I know is bingo Wednesday

Was born to chase all cares away.

 

A Senior Moment – or Two

There are no words,

No understated understanding,

No common sense or rule of reason

Lets me know the reason why

Such fits of memory, or its lack,

Should hack my often-pristine thoughts

To cause a fatal gap so long and wide.

 

I see, and yet my eyes are blind.

I hear but echoes in my mind.

I feel with fingers disinclined.

I taste the waste of bitter wine.

The favored savors I once knew

That graced the air with such ado

Are faded like the morning dew

To places I may ne’er pursue.

 

Oh, angst of age,

Where peace should dwell,

Sad gnawing, nagging beast from Hell,

Lost logic bids a bold adieu

To have a moment, maybe two.

 

Distinguished Gentleman

“I love that little touch of gray,”

Her eyes would speak much more than words.

Her pouty lips would curl to kiss,

“You know, I gave you every one.”

And as she ran her fingers through the

Thinning curls, her eyes’ embrace

Was more than meager tenderness.

It was our song, as yet unsung.

 

She, my humble lady fair,

Aware of all my faults and flaws,

My better equal in all tasks,

My conscience when decisions weigh.

And I, her knight in dusty armor,

Laying roses at her feet,

Praying that tomorrow grants this

Happiness for one more day.

 

Bold distinguished gentleman that I

Aspire to always be,

Smoldering embers in my heart

Keep her in my memory.

 

Old Photos

Old photos are the best,

Especially when they bring back memories

Long forgotten, tucked away

In golden vaults like precious jewels.

Thirty-fives and Polaroids

Passed around to aging eyes

Filling hearts with happy tears

Of days before we learned the rules.

 

Grandpa’s ’57 Ford of unknown color.

Who can tell? Aunt Nellie shot in

Black and white.

She hadn’t switched to color yet.

But Grandpop’s pride was evident

As he put many happy smiles

On gleeful faces, windblown traces,

Fleeting times with no regrets.

 

Taking just a modicum of

Time and space to reminisce

Bygone days bereft of sorrow,

No time or tears to second guess.

 

Going Home

They say you can’t go home again after

Time has stolen all your

Childhood memories from bygone days.

Replacing them instead with whiffs of

Progress and regression,

Finding old familiar haunts

Lost within a maze.

 

Old friends, some still treading there,

(Others long and far away)

Flashing forlorn withered faces

Painted with synthetic smiles.

Slapping thighs as they remember

Youthful tanned exuberance of

How they got from there to here.

“Won’t you sit and stay a while.”

 

Sorry that I cannot tarry,

Tempting as the thought may be.

But I have other worlds to conquer,

Other realms to search and roam.

Chance that when my trek is over

And my feet need firmer ground

Time proclaims my travels finished

And will find me going home.

 

I Love you. Did I Say I love you?

Sweet, yet bittersweet the words

Whispered, almost breathless with

Devotion and assurance.

Searching for response in kind that

She knew was sure to come as does

An echo in an empty hallway tenderly return.

She didn’t even realize those

Same three words had passed her lips

But moments since

And I had reassured her that

I loved her, too.

 

What I said, but had not said,

That I would run through raging fire

If that was what she asked of me,

That I would stand beside her

If the plagues of Hell rained on our heads.

 

What she said, but had not said,

That she would walk me hand in hand

Down every pathway to the end,

To guide me with her shining star

And be my rainbow’s pot of gold.

 

“I love you. Did I say I love you?”

Yes, my love.

You did.

 

Short-Term Memory

I walked in here for something, I swear.

Now, wait. Just give me a moment.

I was sitting in there when

A thought pierced the air

Like the stealth clamor from an informant.

 

It seems like a plot from

A gaslight adventure,

Some frivolous misguided scam,

That I should make haste

And my time be a waste when

I’m not even sure where I am.

 

It plagues me no end

That my mind is no friend

When the details elude and evade.

And I wonder how long

I can keep going wrong

Til the piper at last must be paid.

 

This short-term failure, it comes and it goes,

Fading in, fading out, fade away.

So, I think A to Z

Til it comes back to me

And I can get on with my day.

 

I’m Not Ready to Let Go

How many memories can one heart hold?

How many years are enough?

Why must the ending be so bittersweet?

To where does the time disappear?

 

There are no limits on memories, I’m told,

As Father Time teases his bluff,

And endings lay treasures of gold at out feet

As life gently soothes every tear.

 

At least that’s the theory.

It’s what we are bid to believe

As we grieve day by day.

But deep down inside

Where the soul shrinks to hide

There’s an aching that won’t go away.

 

And I must admit

That the mantle won’t fit

As I sit in a stuporous throe

And stumble and pray

Someone shows me the way.

So unready to let you go.

 

Honey Do

There’s no need to badger on

With such incessant urgency

About the “oh, so many” tasks

That plague to steal my precious time.

 

“Don’t worry, Hon. I’ll get it done,”

My good intentions always say.

But I’ve had odd priorities,

Other hills to scout and climb.

 

But don’t you fret,

I’ll get to it, Babe.

Though time may slide and slip away.

No need to rush.

I have the list right here.

 

Just let me sit and rock a bit

And then I’ll get right on it

And finish in a flash,

So, don’t you fear.

 

But this old chair is comfy and my nap is overdue.

So, the numbers just keep growing

On my list of “honey-do”.

 

I Can’t Eat That Anymore

Hot dogs topped with sauerkraut and the

Spicy mustard I adore.

Blaze-hot jalapeno

Meant to make me sweat from every pore.

Greasy, cheesy pizza crowned with

Every topping in the store.

Take it all away ‘cause

I can’t eat that anymore.

 

Time was, not so long ago,

(It really seems like ages though)

That any grub to grab and go

Could fit my appetite.

And though I’m not persnickety

There’re many foods that get to me

And seem to wage a battle

I am not prepared to fight.

 

I could just grin and bear the bill,

Or have a cup of chamomile

And maybe I’d be fine as wine

To even up the score.

But I just keep on tempting fate,

Remorseful over what I ate,

Regretfully repeating,

“I can’t eat that anymore.”

 

My Best Girl

I couldn’t guess the many-a-mile

We walked together hand in hand,

Both literal and metaphorical,

Til viscid palms would not let go.

And people stare and whisper low

As though it’s hard to understand

How those our age can still engage

In childish act we should outgrow.

 

I don’t care what others think

Or how they act or what they say.

She’s my best girl,

My lucky song,

My guiding star,

My rudder, my sail.

She’s everything precious in my world as

I travel on life’s weary way.

With her hand in mine

I always can find

A peaceful ending to any travail.

 

We may not see the ending together.

Life can be cruel that way.

But I’ll hold her hand til

The last fleeting moment,

Fulfilling the vow of our wedding day.

 

This Book

This book in my hand

Does not weigh me down

Nor spawn an encumbrance

To imagination.

It lifts me on wings to

Fly through the mirror

To magical shores

Of intense inspiration.

 

The yeoman in me craves

The bliss of blind whimsey,

Borne over oceans,

Shared in the sky to

Glide to adventures

Beyond sweeping eons,

Landing in who knows where,

When, how or why.

 

Leafing and leaping and

Launching through time

From the comfort and cozy of

My easy chair.

No matter the object

Of my fascination, this book…

This book will take me there.