Days Dragging and Years a Flying

 

All of a sudden a friend turns 80,

and it hits me once again how fast

we all went from youth to old age.

Sure, the days dragged by.

Whether waiting tables, cleaning offices,

taking phone calls or juggling books;

whether serving drinks at a bar,

writing software for a mainframe,

selling tickets to a Broadway play,

or playing a musical instrument;

Whether acting in a local production,

or shooting a TV commercial or series;

Whether writing a novel or screenplay,

essay, short story or even a poem;

The days do come to a close,

the years do fly by,

and priorities certainly change.

Cherish those friends and good memories,

hold close the things that last and matter.

One day it will all be done –

but let us hold that off as long as we can,

and celebrate another day together.

An Iowa Masterpiece

 

He wrought works in silver                 found objects and made collages

branching to other disciplines              woodworking and painting took hold

learned impressionist styles                  emulated European masters

taught middle and high schools              studied in Paris and Munich

painted murals on commission              put on his own exhibitions

he was always striving towards              another grand project in progress

the next beautiful creation                     something novel from his process

    only to be known and defined by a man, woman, pitchfork and window.

        I would be happy to have done half as much as Grant Wood.

                                            And who wouldn't.

Contrapuntal Playground

 

moving along down a trail               snow scrunching underfoot

minutes wending away                    mind numb to time passages

breath-cycling cool air                    eye scans passing scenes

bare trees and ice glaze                   hardly hear my heartbeat

flow of scenes and vibes                memories trickle past

weave in and out                           awareness shifts internal

watch out where I walk                 black ice can cause a spill

better be vigilant now                    keep an eye focused forward

glitter transforms to asphalt          back towards the transportation

Another walk completed              beauty soaked in one more time

    Open the car door to re-enter uncivilized environments.

The paystub said 12/30/1980            So long ago now

look at those tiny numbers                so much less for stress

but that young man was glad            pay bought a lot more

even in a time of inflation                and needs were simpler

provided the essentials                    cigarettes and chicken necks

some brew at times too                  bread and peanut butter

Oh the simple magic of                 a trip down memory lane

surging youth at 21                    everything was still possible

Gazing back on it all                 wonder where it went to like

just like my parents                  grand and great-grands wondered

now pushing up weeds             feeding the flowers I flatten

    as I wander over their graves, my tears watering them all.

RIP David Crosby

 

He seemed to be a freak’s freak,

an icon of the 60's rock world;

A man who did not compromise anything.

David Crosby was certainly a unique performer.

Forming two very popular bands in the

heart of the 1960’s counterculture movement,

he was in the center of upheaval and revolution.

He gave us a beautiful voice and strident lyrics, 

an unyielding personality with sweet demeanor.

So we lose another great singer-songwriter,

leader of the “Baby Boomer” exultations

to rock and roll, turn on, tune in, drop everything…

and change the world in ways still being felt.

The creativity unleashed truly did change humanity.

We can debate the good or evil of outcomes,

but few can deny the impact of David Crosby on

the music and the consciousness of the times.

I sincerely hope that he is in a better place now;

perhaps entertaining a different audience,

but with his same incredibly beautiful soul.

Rest Well David – your gig here on Earth has ended.

Ice in several shades of blue

 

Not a peep from the birds today,

they are well-nested or flown south.

No sign of squirrels or rabbits,

even though the temps are warmer.

Any creature with a spot of sense

has found a deep, lined burrow.

Mid-January thaws don’t fool us!

We know a blizzard is coming,

sooner or later – probably sooner.

But it is good to get out when one can,

take a stroll in balmy temperature respite;

Enjoy nature’s ‘pause button,’ before

she comes back at us with a bomb cyclone.

Still we know that March’s warmer sunshine

gets closer and closer every day – so we

hang on and throw some ice-melt and deploy

shovels and snowblowers for fast access.

Another cycle comes and goes like usual.

Stay warm everyone.

Where do they think they are going

 

You see images on the daily news,

long lines of refugees waiting to

cross the border into the US.

Impatient, seething, writhing.

Someone sure told them a big lie.

Up here in the USA, we are

constantly pummeled by severe weather,

tornadoes, hurricanes, floods snowstorms.

We are constantly in some state of emergency,

recovery or rescue from fires and droughts, etc.

Our economy is not the best anymore,

our farmlands are being depleted fast,

oil reserves burned up, water resources iffy.

Inequalities are rampant, many poor in the cities

struggle to keep pace with inflation let alone advance.

Just where do these refugees think they are going?

It must really be horrific in their home countries,

to send them fleeing on foot or riding rail cars,

packing into the back of a van or truck illegally.

They might get fed a meal or two from Border Patrol

or some churches stepping in to help – and then end up in

legal limb here while waiting to see a judge.

Flooding into a country that has more than its share of problems already.

There has to be a better solution than to

weigh us down with all their problems,

when we are already staggering under 34 Trillion dollars of debt!

This might be a time for the U.N. to intervene in

their home countries and try to improve conditions there.

There has to be a better way to help.

Peace and out,

(from an overwhelmed US buried in debt and problems.)

Once Despised Now Idolized

 

E.A. Poe the poet helps solve a murder,

in the flowering of his youth at academy.

(Or so says a recent movie.)

The wonder of a young man that can drink and

carouse and still make stunning mental leaps.

E.A. Poe the poet writes a long poem about

a raven, a big crow really, and achieves

immortality in the literary world. A

mental leap of centuries gained by one published work.

E.A. Poe becomes a drunk and opiate user,

offends the polite society that helped make him,

ends up a stumbling vagabond and then dies young.

His is not just the sad tale of another alcohol addict!

E.A. Poe managed to write successful short stories

and longer works at times, firmly etching his name

in the annals of literary fame – forevermore.

E.A. Poe – a tragic figure in life, but not in death.

If his ghost lives it surely marvels at the legions of

readers, and middle school students reading about

his silly raven, taps on the door, and lost love Lenore.

E.A. Poe, literary giant now, long gone,

I’m grateful for using your name in vain,

to write yet another honorarium about you.

Thank you, good sir, for inventing rap,

and leaving us with intricacies still unfolding,

creativity inspiring humble hacks like me,

forevermore.

R.I.P. E.A. Poe.