August 30, 2008 – 6:45 pm
It was a warm late summer’s early night,
when I reached for a book I barely recalled,
decades ago a favorite, but long out of sight.
I carried it to my sofa and there happily sprawled,
turning page after page every bit as enthralled
as the first time I read it while still a young man,
losing myself in the story as I erased the time span.
Though I was so much older now, and feeling it too,
I found the hero and heroine had stayed the same age,
as adventuresome and daring as when their story was new.
The evil villain hadn’t mellowed, still had the same rage,
as prone as before to intiquity and wickedness engage.
The shiny, swift horses had lost not even a day,
as they powerfully sped the good paladins out of harm’s way.
August 27, 2008 – 7:12 am
I trudge along through dense brush and woodland
to escape to my little cabin, though it’s nothing grand.
There’s not really a trail, I make my way as I go,
never quite the same and never faster than slow.
The peace that awaits me you can’t buy in a can,
worldly concerns pass the baton and tranquility bestow.
I hack through the forest for an hour or more,
and though I get weary it’s never a chore,
my mind stays focused on the serenity I’ll find
when temporal matters disappear from my mind.
I circle ’round huge trees ’till finally reaching the door
of the tiny cabin, for no one but me nearly a shrine.
It’s a place where stress and anxiety are forever banned,
no radio or TV, no Internet, or movies on demand.
A place where the quiet is but music to my ears,
a place that casts away worries and disallows fears,
my secret spot to meditate where my mind can expand,
where days passing by seem to diminish my years.
August 24, 2008 – 8:03 pm
The days growing shorter, the skies turning grey,
a transition in weather is now underway.
Cooler air relieves summer’s stifling heat,
the beginnings of a path harsh winter will one day meet,
but for three wondrous months the new season will stay.
It’s the time known as autumn, or fall if you prefer,
a pleasant time of year you’re sure to concur.
The temperature neither hot nor cold to extreme,
deciduous trees show off bright colors supreme,
and nature chose fall for primary harvest to occur.
Fruits, vegetables, grains and wheat ripe for picking
are harvested for your table while fall’s clock is ticking.
Several autumnal holidays about food mark calendars too,
Thanksgiving, Jewish Sukkot, and Moon Festival only a few
of ways to thank a bountiful earth while chops are licking.
It’s true that all don’t greet the fall with great joy,
gone are the gleeful possibities of summer to enjoy.
The skies have turned grey, they miss the clear blue,
and dread the frigid winter ahead they don’t wish to pursue,
any fall season contentment such thoughts can destroy.
August 15, 2008 – 2:00 pm
Preface: This poem is loosely based on an astounding but true occurrence.
He was old and homeless, down on his luck,
panhandling on the corner hoping for a buck.
And when he would tire of his begging routine,
he searched the area for discarded cuisine.
He trudged around town to various stores,
though very seldom entering their doors.
His mission focused on trash cans and dumpsters,
and the scraps he found there were hunger answers.
At restaurants, convenience and grocery stores too,
he fumbled through garbage daily, when it was new,
leading to a day that would soon change his life
and, putting it mildly, deliver him from strife.
He pulled up a paper tray and it’s remaining fries,
and laying on top another paper surprise,
two lottery tickets, though certainly not winners,
he had a better chance to find full course dinners.
August 10, 2008 – 8:29 pm
Obstinate, self-willed and headstrong,
he repelled the wisdom of all in his field,
for him sage advice simply didn’t belong,
to the ideas of others he refused to yield.
Why listen to those with more knowledge,
or their experience even acknowledge?
Nay, he was his own man with his own mind,
no one was going to tell him what to do or not,
to the thoughts of peers and superiors he was blind.
“I know what I’m doing” he fired back like a shot,
when advised by experts to implement “Plan B”
making him more determined to apply his “Plan C”.
“They’ll see who’s right” he surmised with a sneer,
anticipating apologies once his insight is proved,
and increased respect has broadened his sphere.
He dreamed of opposing opinions forever removed,
those with more experience seeking his advice,
and considered giving it, but at the right price.
BlogoSquare