hedistuff Poetry (252)

where will fate deliver us?
to the moon and back, anew
it was a bumpy ride the first time
who dreamt we'd ever make it through?

yet, here we are today
as one...you and I
our voice and touch so soothing
as some distant lullaby

the hard part became simple
be loved and love as well
all turmoil surmounted
from the blessed day we fell

in love with one another
our hearts had opened wide
no earthly matters mattered
we had let go of pride

and now we hold all number
of that we deem as real
to hold our breath no longer
for tis happiness we feel

if today we are to die
our life together end
let it be, for we have found
our rare essential friend

deep past the arrival of eve's night
long after the throng of the city's holiday paraders have gone
he is left far from the crowd, hopelessness his only companion
the avenues mostly still, mostly silent
the homeless panhandler remains in an alley
set against a structure where exhaust vents release warmth from below
he is posed for yet another long night's passing
the only place available to him where a freezing death may not find him
sleep may or may not come for him
half a bottle of wine might offer some comfort, for a short while anyway
as he sips his salvation, he journeys in mind
on a road traveled often, destination never to be found
where his future may lead him, he knows not
it seems that he has always merely tried to last into the following day
with a grimace he muses of tomorrow
when the sun rises next, it will be christmas day
not the best of days for him
truth be told, it could be only the worst
for he knows very well what this will mean
that his usual routine of finding nourishment will not exist
there will be no bakeries tossing out old bread
no eateries filling trash dumpsters with food deemed unfit for customers
only a mere fragment of passers-by from whom to solicit
but most folks crossing his path on this day will be just like him
with little to offer, not even a smile
snapping out from his speculation, he hunkers down upon the grate
trying to escape the bitter cold winds that seem to blow through him
he has found something to concentrate on
this is all that he has
so, we should all take this little tale to bed with us tonight
and recall it tomorrow as we enjoy our great feasts
in the warm comfort of home, with family and friends
for under the fate of circumstance
…every man could be a homeless man

deep past the arrival of eve's night
long after the throng of the city's holiday paraders have gone
he is left far from the crowd, hopelessness his only companion
the avenues mostly still, mostly silent
the homeless panhandler remains in an alley
set against a structure where exhaust vents release warmth from below
he is posed for yet another long night's passing
the only place available to him where a freezing death may not find him
sleep may or may not come for him
half a bottle of wine might offer some comfort, for a short while anyway
as he sips his salvation, he journeys in mind
on a road traveled often, destination never to be found
where his future may lead him, he knows not
it seems that he has always merely tried to last into the following day
with a grimace he muses of tomorrow
when the sun rises next, it will be christmas day
not the best of days for him
truth be told, it could be only the worst
for he knows very well what this will mean
that his usual routine of finding nourishment will not exist
there will be no bakeries tossing out old bread
no eateries filling trash dumpsters with food deemed unfit for customers
only a mere fragment of passers-by from whom to solicit
but most folks crossing his path on this day will be just like him
with little to offer, not even a smile
snapping out from his speculation, he hunkers down upon the grate
trying to escape the bitter cold winds that seem to blow through him
he has found something to concentrate on
this is all that he has
so, we should all take this little tale to bed with us tonight
and recall it tomorrow as we enjoy our great feasts
in the warm comfort of home, with family and friends
for under the fate of circumstance
…every man could be a homeless man

A while back I posted a blog titled "To Dream". It drew a number of responses but few words were shared on the original theme of the entry which was that all peoples are valuable, important, and loved. I blame myself for that as I opined on the conduct of the U.S. over the years which led to the muddling of the issue of who were the victims at Mumbai India. A heated debate began on the causes of terrorrism. Folks arguing politics on a blog. Tempers flaring. Fingers pointing blame. Patronizing tones. Name calling. Insults. Hurt feelings.
One friend remarked to me that I had "opened up a can of worms". I shan't jump into the fray, however, I would like to share my thoughts on the matter. I believe that we must say what we wish and share that platform with all voices. Only true discourse aids us along our journey of discovery and is our only hope of lessening the gulf between us. Too many folks seem bent on finding someone or something to blame. Thus avoiding any responsibility to help solve problems and trying to find possible solutions. With their excoriating tones they only exascerbate divisions already in place, exasperating the problems moreso. I think that we should allow and encourage all to air their views. We can learn and perhaps somewhat understand the others viewpoint. If lucky, maybe we could arrive at a small compromise. We are all humbugs to someone. It just depends on who's seat you're in. It may be prudent, for those that question the character of people from different backgrounds, to remember the old saying "walk a mile in my shoes". Subjectivity reigns. There will never be human synthesis. We're all individual. People don't always have to know who or what caused a difficulty to find a workable solution. We must never lose sight of our common bond of humanity and of our love for one another. The only people you should want to get even with are those who have helped you. Most world leaders share the same bed with the moneychangers, as in they use their power to further their own ends. They are the true helmsmen that steer the vessel of international policy. It is never they that have become burdened in debt. Nor has any of their own blood been spilled in their glorious crusade. No, it is always the common citizen who pays the price of filling the purses of those at the top. We've become lemmings fed on propaganda and led by patriotism. As we all know, time is the healer of all wounds and usually must be given its' just due before true enlightenment showers down upon us soothing our damaged hearts.
We need a hard rain...

take it as it comes
welcome happenstance
maybe you and I don't fit
normal notion circumstance

try to think outside the box
of forever a "next day"
perhaps then, we two can share
a happy life "come what may"

throw away the schedule
of the things you want to do
ride a wave of spontaneity
each moment will be new

get caught up in the tide
there are no lessons how
it only takes imagination
to be aswim in the now

if you choose to follow down
the road that I am on
never will be turning back
from now on, we'll be gone

when you've come to realize
just as I did, long ago
I'll see the answer in your eyes
it's off to our world we go

so, let me take you by the hand
we'll dance along a golden sand
of our eternal wonderland
without a single second planned

life will be a big surprise
we'll never set a goal
with every breaking sunrise
it's all beyond control

well....how 'bout it lady?
wanna take a ride?

Polly wanted love so much
she saw all the other girls chased by boys
smiling..holding hands....kissing (gulp!)
folks barely spoke to Polly
and especially not boys
she crept through life as an embarassment
a silent mass of skulking apology
her stiff legged teetering strides
left observers shaking their heads
she could rarely bring herself to look another in the face
....never in the eyes
her face always appeared as though frozen
her eyes an empty void
almost lacking life
blank of all emotion, except one...
fear...trepidation...dread
her mind a whirling nest of confusion
she had little family
her mother died in chidbirth
...Polly's birth
her fire and brimstone preacher father
had nothing to offer Polly but guilt
paralyzing her every thought and move
so she learned not to do much of either
she had no brothers or sisters
left isolated to live the hell...
her father was always ranting about avoiding
he tendered no warmth, no love
leaving her cramped alone in a cold miserable space
today is April 1st...Polly's birthday
her eighteenth, though no one would notice
but on this spring day
in her final year of high school
she became aware of something...different
in class that day, there was a new student...a boy
he acts like a shy, quiet person, she mused
later, as she sat alone during lunch break
she noticed that someone was standing beside her
it was the new boy at school!
as his voice cracked he stuttered...
'may I, um, um, sit at this table, um, with you?'
Polly was unable to breathe
til at last she squeeked out 'uh, uh, okay'
he sat down across from her
never raising his vision from his food on the table
he spoke 'uh my name is uh, Paul'
Polly's head was reeling...
a boy was sitting with her, talking to her
she muttered 'uh huh', then was taken mute
staring glassy eyed straight down before her
her heart beating as if to burst!
but not another word passed between the two
Paul ate his meal, then stood up, hesitated for a moment...
then silently, merely strode away
Polly's downward stare was transfixed...her food half-eaten
Paul and Polly never spoke to one another again
it was over...between them

when I awakened at daybreak, I first went outside
all about on the ground there was fresh fallen snow
I quickly gathered a new stack of wood for the fire
then headed back in the house and over to the stove
my body was still stiff from the day’s work before
but I started to limber as the flames became higher

as usual my mother had risen hours before
to be preparing the meal that would be served on this day
she was baking and sifting, back and forth ‘cross the floor
doing those things only she could, in her own special way

it’s thanksgiving at our house with family gathered ‘round
heads bow in silence as father offers the grace
at the head of the table set a place for our Lord
with somber gratitude of mother earth’s hallowed ground
as farmers we live in the balance of nature
we are thankful to them from whom all bounty has poured

no matter what the outcome
we are grateful for our harvest
as we have been, year after year
we are counting our blessings
for we still have one another
in health and that we hold so dear

thanksgiving at our house, the family is here
with our glasses all raised, let us toast in good cheer
.

Gazing into your eyes one enters a trancelike state. Easily captured by this wellspring of gripping allure, one teeters on the edge. But, the edge of what? For to fully enter such unmapped crossing may approach a leap of faith. What is to be discovered with a final surrender? I never found out. Nor was I ever intended to. It was not my spring of a young man's fancy. But the moment brought me to recall those moments of splendor in the grass. A brief interlude. Now, a sweet memory...

At first not caring that some statues and memorials were being removed.
As well as the naming of schools, highways, buildings, etc.
I thought that I understood.
But it seems as though there is no end to it.
Eventually, there will be no naming of anything nor statues nor memorials of
anyone.
As time has passed and continues to pass how people construe what is good,
bad, or indifferent has and will continue to change.
There is a skeleton in the closet for everyone.
For example, as much as we love and respect John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King, they were both purported to be notorious womanizers.
Some might think this to be a moot point but THIS is the POINT.
Which sin or indiscretion will be viewed as allowable or not and by whom?
History was what it was.
One can't alter that.
What we can do is teach the truth of our past, present, and future.
Enlighten our young.
Show them that love and charity are the brightest paths to follow for shared happiness and the preservation of our freedoms and liberty...

my love sails cross the room to embrace me
merrily
she looks at me with eyes of teary joy
constantly
she does what she wants to
she listens to me
she does what she needs to
nothing's too good for me

as I gaze upon her face divine I sigh
thankfully
ever float above the earth should I touch her
giddily
I do what I want to
I listen to her
I do what I need to
I give my all for her

we shall wander on our journey of adventure
hand in hand
and we'll carry paradise with each step forward
in our land
we do what we want to
we haven't any rules
we do what we need to
we shall never suffer fools

we'll always be together
we could never be without
our hearts glimmer as the stars
for we sing and dance and shout

outliving the fantasy of we
when people speak I merely breathe
I'm not the chose
just one of those
who's just not there
anymore

heady rhythm of my sinus
in tune with my tinitus
a whole new land give to me

tryin' to find my way around
and so far I've found the ground
so I stop and stand alone
and think too much of what I've sown
that has brought me to no sound

now a brand new trek to take
every step a huge mistake
not sensing any call
caroming off nonexistent walls
as though I'm not really awake

I went in to touch her this morning
I went in to feel my life's tie
and yes, I felt so awarded
as she turned to reach for my side
is it funny how some things might matter?
be it merely, as merely a touch
and although the gesture seems little
it still makes it matter so much
we've been together a long time
our love stronger each day passing through
yet we never pass up a moment
celebrating our treasure anew