Monday, January 25, 2010

Two poems

Walker Hicks and i continue to work on the web site, hopefully making it better and easier to use. You can now comment on my "blog" entries. Currently, if you do not have a google account or another in the drop down menu, you can send your comment by selecting "anonymous." i am looking forward to hearing from you.

who i am

i am a time traveler in my mind.

Crystal illusions on the waterfront,
Sail and red checkered table cloths.

The problem is i do not know
who i am at what time i am whomever i am.

Spackle of grey clouds allows the sun
to dart between, glare at the sea gulls flapping.

i keep these secrets with me,
not knowing who i am, when, and mostly why.
I cannot tell any one,
especially those who have come to know:
no political correctness here,
just concern for all of those, even her,
just not i.

Old world harbor town gasping hard against
the new world up and coming.

Responsible resistance to secret revelation,
a yearning emptiness of sweetness.

Lovely young smile and quick mind
Sharing a moment which cannot be more.

It is a secret
Which i wrestle with like a bear
With no resolve as to how much, when or how
i should tell to whom;
…and the world goes round
While people do foolish things,
i among them.

old man nodding, smiling at the beauty,
the symmetry of it all
while the city structures loom
silhouettes of the times:
those which are,
those which never will be.

Smile Mr. Fitzgerald;
Another day for Gatsby has arrived.

- Bonita, California
- October 12, 2006

Waiting Grace

the old folks sit in the room too warm,
television images blink randomly,
the mute button silences the room
although they do not know as the hearing aids
lie on their respective tables with
paraphernalia required for the elderly;
they sit knowing the time will come soon:
waiting grace.
All is right with the world.
They and the remaining few of their generation
know how to demonstrate
waiting grace.
No threat, no fret, no fear
shows in their continence:
they do what they can and
what they can decreases perceptively almost daily,
faculties fade and with the fading,
the joys of their industry escaping slowly:
waiting grace.
They have endured the test of time when
times were harder and
simpler and
they hold to those codes of right and
simplicity and
goodness to the neighbor, friend and
to service:
waiting grace.

- Bonita, California
- October 22, 2006

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