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Wednesday, August 31, 2016

This Year

I’ve reached the age where
life becomes conditional,
largely ephemeral,
most things provisionary,
all things temporary.
the big things,
the small stuff,
it’s a time when I’ve
earned, owned, had enough.
Now, everything’s contingent on
the time remaining,
a simple fact of life,
each day self-sustaining,
sometimes in joy,
others with strife.
No matter the years,
the many, the few,
it’s simply the truth,
we’re all just passing through,
briefly posed between
two eternities,
and that, my friends,
is the year’s only certainty.
If there’s a year ahead,
what to do?
Read another book?
See another movie?
Walk another beach?
Or, boldly experiment
with something new.
Maybe I’ll just think about it.
For a while.


A CRYSTALLINE is a two line image poem, often with a title, in which euphony is the key factor. The lines will have 8 or 9 syllables to make a total of seventeen.


Summer’s season too soon leaves us.

Autumn’s arrival awaits, offstage.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

In the End

The night moon waits, lingering,
behind the evening clouds.
It was only noon
a few minutes ago,
sun shining,
 largely with hope.
The day moon looked on then too,
faint but present,
with portents of things to come,
easily ignored by most of us.

When our final moment arrives,
as it assuredly must,
with a light brighter than
the moon and  stars,
it will be in the middle of the night.
No matter the time.
One will know the past
ended last night,
and in the end,
our lives are simply stories,
and night comes all too soon.

The world will proceed
with its plan.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Genius Inside

Every four years,
near summer’s end,
the world focuses
on sports, on athletics.
For me, awaiting fall,
there’s more to enjoy,
like art and beauty,
nature, aesthetics.
We can’t all be runners  
and leapers and such,
especially us old folks,
it would just be too much.
Yet, as our own personal
autumn nears,
there’s joy to be found,
no mere dollop of pride,
we each have some genius,
an artist inside.
We’re each an Olympian,
merely needing the temerity,
to claim our abundance,
our joy and prosperity.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

one from Tom Hayes

Grecian Earned

Okauchee born, lucky lad,
appreciative of what he had,
and then -
the battle's test,
a needed rest,
a soul-mate best,
and feelin blessed,
all markers on a lifeline.
Family and friends,
it twists and bends.
Now moving on
beyond the fears.
There's unfinished business.
Peace , poems and pita.
Celebrate life - Opah!

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Pax Tecum

We might drink of the cup of peace,
in this maelstrom of hate, lies unfurled.
We could do so simply, with ease,
disregarding the insults now hurled,
drink to peaceful change in the world.

Some say there’s too much hate there,
that we have no chance,
no hope, not a prayer.
I say we can, in fact we must, please.
We might drink of the cup of peace.

Some say we have to do something,
fight back in this violent world.
I say we should all
find an anchor
in this maelstrom of hate, lies unfurled.

Some say there’ too much anger,
too much worry and danger,
too many obstacles to peace.
I say, of course it looks impossible, but
we could do so simply, with ease.

Some say we answer in kind,
those who seem out of their minds.
I say just let them rant,
with their nevers, their nonsense, their can’ts,
disregarding the insults now hurled.

Some say there is no answer,
no reasonable response which just flows.
I say simply put nothing on the bar
but your elbows,
drink to peaceful change in the world.


“Ram, Ram”, he said,
said it aloud,
“Ram”, the Hindu
word for God.
Non-violent leader
of a violent nation,
shot dead by a fanatic
in a railway station.
Shot three times
in his stomach and chest,
independence would follow,
but you know the rest.
He had fasted, walked freely,
aware of the danger,
yet he died with a smile,
no hatred, no anger.
His hands in front of him,
prayerful and steady,
“Ram, Ram”, he said,
“God, God”, he was ready. 

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Windback Wednesday - Blue Mirror

She asked about the blue mirror we
had moved a few times but never
used, so I told her the story of how,
from the time I was four or five,
my mother would put it on the four
by five cedar chest we used as a
table, and at Christmas time, we'd
put snow and little people on it to
make a festive scene.
I'm 72 now, and through the years,
a lot of stuff has disappeared, like
lamps and photos and baseball cards, and
people, too. I've lost dogs and cats, some
car keys, the home I grew up in, even
my mother, who died suddenly one
September, and we didn't have Christmas
after that for a long time, what with
sadness, and later, war, for me.

I never lost that blue mirror, though.
Then I met her, and I had very little
stuff, but I had her, and that was enough
for me. Her family was big on Christmas,
and, after we returned from our December
honeymoon, her baby sister put the
ornaments on their tree, the ones made with
a glitter and a glue stick, the ones with
everybody's names on them, and we were
the last ones to go up, smack dab in the
center front, with much oohing, ahing and smiling.
My dad was there, our first Christmas in
forever. It was cold, really cold, but
our hearts melted.

So, the blue mirror, remember? After
we moved to a town with lots of folks,
one where we could have visitors, we
started to decorate excessively. Too much
was still not enough, with wreaths and
themed trees and garland and such. she
said we should bring out the blue mirror and
make a scene, so we went looking for
fake snow and little trees and people
Then Department 56 happened,
and a train set happened,
and more Department 56 happened,
and I built display tables and drilled holes
and did dangerous, overloaded wiring
and it was big and grand and good,
and all of our friends loved it,
and more Department 56 happened,
and a storage locker to hold it all happened.

I think I mentioned that I'm 72 now,
those boxes and tables got heavier,
that wiring got more painful to connect,.
we've lost a few more people,
there's this talk about voluntary simplicity.
Still have that blue mirror, though.
I think soon we'll start a new tradition,
borrow from the past, bring out the older,
garage sale the newer.
But, then, there's the crazy
Krinkles accessories,
and all the Santa ornaments,
and the clowns
and the reindeer
and the angels.

Oh, what the heck, one more year.
I think we can find room for
a blue mirror

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Being There

I’m nearly seventy-two
and he wants a list
Another list? 
A birthday wish list?
I know, I know,
what would our friend Walt do?
He’d write and write and write,
and they’d all be great,
and they’d all be interesting,
and we’d all read them
and we’d all have ink envy…again.

I mean, I have lots of stories,
lots of lists, so
that’s no problem, and
it’s too late now to worry about
too much exposure, but, let’s see…

Maybe we could talk more than we do,
though we don’t seem to need to.
Maybe we could buy me some new clothes,
have me dress more fabulously,
but I’d just wear tee shirts anyhow.
Maybe we could dance the night away,
stay out late, make some noise,
but bedtime’s when the music starts,
so, you know…
Maybe we could go to parties,
hit a beach Bar-B-Q,
but a couple friends at home or lunch
is way more comfy.

Wait, I know…
maybe we could forget about lists,
bucket or otherwise.
Maybe we could simply enjoy this
present moment,
beautiful moment,
wonderful moment.

Thursday, August 4, 2016

The Backyard

this is a form new to me, called a

Byr a Thoddaid

I sit calmly on a June day,
eyeing the hummingbird highway,
speed freak avians zip and dive,
competing for sweets, alive with color.

They feed or die, small-hearted birds.
I sense their grace, try to find words
which would perfectly fit, aptly describe
the thoughts inside their heads.

Of course, I fail, my dear reader,
awed by the crowd at the feeder,
displaying their brilliance,
they dance in the sky that is theirs alone.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Fall of '67 (a Quadrille)

It’s o-dark-thirty, I’m flying,
death surely on its way,
I see my mother,
dead nine years.
I am no longer matter.
Go back, you can’t stay,
still work for you,
important matters. 
Easy now to understand, 
the work is peace,
all that really matters.