Moments in Time
It’s too much to tell
and I wouldn’t try
in the space between
we’re born and die.
You cannot tell it
if you can
for life sails by
without an end.
Just the very special light
that on a moment sometimes shines
or lighting it from deep inside
yielding meaning or delight.
To catch this moment, what it was
and also what it means to us
in many glimpses of the light
that speak to us and give insight.
The moment may be happy, gay
or filled with yearning in a way.
Anything in life may be
a moment for our memory.
Insight is a special gift
that any certain moment gives
and comes to us both quick and clear
and the essence does appear.
Memories of moments past
make up much of life in fact
and dwell with us so clear inside
and stay with us most of our life.
So I do not write all of life
but just the moments of insight.
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The Seashell
Tell me your story, oh little shell,
washed from the sea you know so well.
Like a jewel on the sand
gems of sea are now on land.
Many like you must there be
far beneath the swelling sea.
For when a ray of light does beam
thru the water underneath,
a world of beauty does appear
with every kind of creature near.
Many the dreams in you abide
rocked in an endless lullaby.
And perhaps on shore it seems
still are wrapped in an endless dream.
For the ocean’s ceaseless roar
ever speaks to you on shore
and the waves do often sweep
around you with their furthest reach.
I wonder if you came afar
or nearby were the seaweeds are
and what the stories you could tell
of your life you know so well.
Even if you left your home
the comfort of the sea is close
and water covers now and then
and you are happy once again.
So rest in dreams in your place ashore
where the stars at night look down the more
and listen to the endless roar
lapped by the water evermore.
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Nijinsky
Nijinsky was a powerhouse
in European ballet
sweeping all the cities,
finesse on display.
With power and with drama
he danced his many roles
and leapt his way into their hearts
with stunning art and bold.
And tho he won the nations
with finest dance and true
when he grew some older
wore out as people do.
His mind it also left him
from make believe he’d lived,
but staying in a tiny room
continued to exist.
And it was sad to many
but his world had been the stage
and every living moment
that life he did create.
They say he never danced at all
or recognized it yet
but on a chance occasion
would do a pirouette.
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I Have a Pendant Rather Old
I have a pendant rather old
a generation more or so.
It was made of solid brass
free flowing as the lines of past.
Here a young girl’s head appears,
long and flowing is her hair.
Openness to her belongs
as of youth an open song.
A simple, open face to see
showing us that quality.
If we only could make last
the qualities that youth do have.
What a blessed way to be,
open and wholeheartedly.
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Marvel
Many tiny creatures
are delicately made
and we wonder at their wings
or how they fly away.
Even in a tiny bee,
clearest wings with veins,
looking insufficient
to last it all its age.
And fuzz upon its body,
black and yellow too
and vibrates when it’s buzzing
as bumblebees all do.
How wondrous are these tiny things
and everything they do,
full of life and energy
more than me and you.
We wonder at their life
and how they can be made
complete and yet so light,
a mystery just the same.
And in the tiny creatures
he never does forget
to give tem what they need
for life and for their rest.
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Encounter
Walking down a country road
I passed a clump of trees
and spied a gypsy woman
thinking very deeply.
Passing by her solitude
she beckoned tho to me.
I saw that she was sitting on
a gnarl of that old tree.
Without an introduction
abruptly spoke to me
and gazing in the distance
seemed to know me keenly.
She said no word however
upon that painful score
for my life was empty
tho she knew me more.
I lingered there and wondered
what her life may be
for no sign of knapsack
or belongings did I see,
if she were with a group
of living solitarily.
She made no mention erstwhile
of where she did belong
nor did she clarify that day
how she got along.
And tho we said but little
was glad that I had stayed
and always looked for her again
whene’er I passed that way.
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Train Ride in India, Third Class
Have you ever taken a train
in far-away India land.
It’s something you’ll never forget
tho your years a century span.
The bustle at the station
makes you wonder how
the people all get sorted out
but they do somehow.
Men and woman travel
and the children too.
Doctors and vagrants
all third class will do.
Safer there to travel
with many in a car
and every walk of life
together as they are.
The bearers there are tall
their turbans are bright red.
They lift the heavy trunks
and put them on their heads.
Then on top of that
they put a bedroll too.
For everyone must bring his bed,
this is how they do.
Which car shall you enter,
for they’re all separate
and in the one you go
you must stay as yet.
Some are for the rich
and some for all the rest.
Some are just for ladies
if they like that best.
The bearers place the luggage
on racks overhead
and all the space is quickly full
with luggage as I’ve said.
The windows are quite open
with bars set there in place
and you can see a long, long way
far out into space.
The travel’s on a plain,
very dry and bare
but on the far horizon
silver plants are there.
Passing tiny villages
at night where all is dark
you wonder how they raise a crop
so dry the dust does start.
You sit a while and look around
at this novelty.
Imagine living all the time
just the same as these.
Usually several people
know English very well
and you may ask them many things
which willingly they tell.
Any many miles we talk
and many questions ask
to find their life and values
that you have wondered at.
They are very friendly
with hospitality,
invite you to their village
that you all things might see.
The train goes very slowly,
stopping all the time,
to let the people on and off
and to let them dine.
Vendors at the station
loudly yell their wares
and you may dine deliciously
on their different fares.
Deep fried meat and pie crust
is what one vendor brings
and you exchange the fare and coins
thru the window’s opening.
You may buy bananas
or other kinds of fruit
and all of them are good
so any kind will suit.
They also serve the tea
in unglazed pottery cups.
It is English style
with the milk and sweetened.
When you finish with your drink
you may toss it out
of the open window
when no one is about.
The plate they bring the food on,
leaves woven tight with straw
and when your food you finish
you throw it overboard.
A goat or cow will come along
and quickly eat it all
so it is most convenient,
plates of leaf and straw.
At night it is depressing
to pass a platform stop
and see the hundreds lying there
with no place else to drop.
In the day tho some get up
some are there to stay
for in the night a few have died
their souls gone away.
One time a wrinkled woman
squatted on the floor.
She had a bag of cloth
and nothing more.
I saw that the conductor
passed this woman by.
She hadn’t any ticket
and he didn’t try.
When he was gone she turned around
to a learned man
and told almost hysterically
her problem at his hand.
It seemed her son had put her out,
she had no where to go.
She went to find the other son
but knew not where to go.
Was he where the train was bound
or just the other way.
She asked the man hysterically
how to find the way.
He comforted and told her
soon she should get down.
Her son must be there very close
and she could look around.
And so you found a mixture
of life in every car,
every kind assorted
traveling as they are.
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I Pity All These Women
I pity all these women
upon some far-flung day
whose husbands on retirement
came home at last to stay.
Bickering and arguments,
the worst side does show thru.
In all those years of marriage
no harder thing to do.
And end their days in misery
much worse than that they knew
and write off all their marriage
with failure thru and thru.
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The Heatrola
The winter air was bitter cold
back in the mid thirties.
And he walked 4 miles more
as it was his duty.
Some folks he knew owed pennies few
on papers he delivered.
His own shoes let cold snow thru
and as he walked he shivered.
When he as there he asked the health
of everyone inside
for the man lay very ill
and helpless tho he tried.
The lady was quite pleasant
with washing piled high
and for a whole week’s work
made a dollar sixty-five.
As he was cold he walked close to
the stove with isinglass.
The children played in sheets and chairs
to capture warmth at last.
But when he looked into it
he scarce believed his eyes
for an oil lamp
was all that stood inside.
The children played unknowingly
among the sheets and chairs
sure that warmth and heat
was from the fire there.
And as he turned to take his leave
he asked not for a cent.
They needed it far more tan he
and on toward home he went.
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Cobblestones
Cobblestones, rustic, quaint
rounded with the wear of age,
tempo slow, a hand-pulled cart
and shoes that are hand made.
Mellow is their memory
and smooth the thoughts that gaze
on piquant yellow cobblestones
remaining thru the age.
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Renewal
Once there was a forest
where 2 children played,
happy with the leaves and boughs
and they had many games.
They knew the forest very well
and went there every day.
They were strong and vibrant
and cheerfully they played.
One day there was a terrible storm,
the stream did overflow
into a torrent’s rush
tugging all below.
Swept into its current
they tried to grasp the trees
swiftly passing by them –
it was futility.
The river swept them far beyond
that they had ever been.
Then suddenly it opened
and lightly dropped them in.
It was a very large room
and filled with many men.
It seemed that they were waiting
and were expecting them.
They seemed very happy
and greeted them with smiles,
embraced them very fondly
and happy all the while.
These sages had been pondering
for lo these many years
and grew quite desiccated
and lifeless, tho were seers.
They’d longed to witness life again
sturdy, full of cheer,
for these refreshing qualities
they had brought them here.
They made the torrent overflow
and sweep them in the cave
to see their love of life
that in them had decayed.
And the sages hugged them
for they were full of life
and lifted them as children
by their taller size.
One embraced her fondly
and kissed her many times
for she was young and wholesome
and happy if not wise.
The sages were quite happy
at this rush of life –
rejuvenated in their soul
and full of many smiles.
They gathered ‘round the children
when they were renewed
and they wished them home again
and all they ever knew
was a memory of a cave
and happy to them too.
They often wondered of it
but they never found
any sign of entrance
to an underground.
And it was a mystery
but they loved to play
all within the forest
and wonder of a cave.
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I Like The Irish Spirit
I like the Irish spirit,
tho I do not know
much about that country
I came from long ago.
We can fight for spirit
although we are small
and stand up and be counted
as if we were tall.
Also blended in
is a winning smile,
catching and persuasive
as a happy child.
They also are a people
who wanted to be free
but it was denied
categorically.
So tho they may fight for a cause
the heart is never left
and in the midst of struggle
a soul we can’t forget.
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I'd Give My Life For A Tiger
I’d give my life for a tiger,
wild and lithe and free
in Asia where there are so few,
the beauty, grace of these.
I’d give my life for a tiger,
so beautiful they are
and it come up the winner,
loveliest by far.
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The Sunken Shrine
Perhaps on a distant island
in the Pacific sea
there is an ancient shrine
that sank gradually.
The waves at last are washed o’er it
as the centuries passed
and it was half-forgotten
by people there at last.
But maybe this forgotten shrine
had a bell which tolled
as the waves washed in and out
of its watery hold.
When a storm was far at sea
they heard its watery chime
warning of the danger
in a little time.
The people thought it was the prayers
were said in ancient days
that made the sunken bell
still ring that way.
Thru the night they heard it ring
as the sea raged and the wind screamed.
A drama of the sea and wind
and a little bell that did not give in.
It really seemed as if the bell
was on the people’s side somehow
and would ring and talk to them
and became a real friend.
Thru the years they thought as one,
the friends on shore and friend at sea.
And they were glad that it stood there
throughout their history.
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Bach Had 20 Children
Bach had 20 children
by 2 wives I think
which might explain the many-voiced
music that we sing.
His organ works have many parts
in horizontal flow
each a melody itself
as onward they all go.
He liked to write at home
with all the children there
maybe representing them
in all the voices there.
Maybe that is why we hear
those strong and dissonant chords –
something crashed around him
or the children quarreled.
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Obsessions
Obsessions tear the soul
and circle ‘round and ‘round
and never find an answer
to what is underground.
If they’re half unconscious
can never figure out
the source of cause or potency
of what they’re all about.
The person is a victim
entangled in the chain
and cannot free himself
or lessen mental pain.
Another kind is longing
external in its source,
desire unabated
that never runs its course.
It may not be destructive,
as the other kind
but has a kind of blinders
of singleness of mind
but yet is never clear
and out of focus too
and often cannot tell
what people ten will do.
Like moths drawn to a flame
may stalk or steal or kill
in uncontrolled obsession
to possess it still.
The many kinds of torture
are painful to the soul,
victims of obsessions
they cannot control.
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Answer
Once a master scientist
whose head was full of facts
couldn’t find a theory
explaining all at last.
Traveling by ship one night
he looked out on the sea
and seemed he saw a ring of fire
dancing on the sea.
Each piece seemed to hold the hand
of others in the ring
and dance ‘round in a circle –
it was the missing link.
And he conceived the theory
of atoms very small
dancing in a ring around,
the same as what he saw.
And so the great of mind may find
in some little thing
the answer to a problem
and new light may bring.
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Saving
Cutting corners here and there,
a frugal turn of mind,
does little to help stem the flow
of owing all the time.
The pennies carefully that we save
are of little help
to pay the rent or water bill
or food upon the shelf.
Having gardens, sewing clothes,
a thrifty turn of mind
only helps but little
in these trying times.
The values we were taught,
important in themselves,
but not enough to see us thru
without something else.
Saving all you want to
still won’t pay the bills
or generate an income
to overcome your ills.
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Visitors
Usually it’s enjoyable
when people come to call
and a happy time
is had by one and all.
Especially if you like them
you are glad to see
them standing in the doorway
waiting happily.
You welcome them with smiles
and tell them to come in.
Soon everyone is talking.
Where shall we begin?
Woman talk with women
and men talk with men.
Then it crosses over
and all begin again.
If you have some coffee
or some little treats
you offer them their choice
and everybody eats.
In an exultant spirit
the conversation goes,
from one tossed to another
in a rapid flow.
Picutres are brought out
of how the children grown
or if they are present
we can see their growth.
All the news of families
wafts right thru the air
and we catch up then
on every affair.
The day seems oh so happy
while these folks are there.
We ask them please to come again
as it is too rare.
We say that we will visit them
before too long we hope.
We have good intentions
but time goes by we know.
All our guests are not the same
or every one like this.
Some are in the middle
and some we like to miss.
If you don’t like them
that’s another story
and you make excuses
not to see them more.
But sometimes you find good things
you didn’t know they had
and after they have talked
decide they’re not so bad.
So while the guests are not the same,
something may be learned,
for each has a story
that we have not heard.
So listen to their stories
and what they have to say
and grow in understanding
each and every day.
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It Is Possible That We
It is possible that we
may aid in archaeology.
All our lives and things we have
aid them with a distant past.
For cities that we dig up now
were once enormous thriving towns
that lived their lives the same as we
with n’er a thought of history.
And so when oft we buy a chair
and place it carefully here or there,
it may be dug up too some day
to study how we worked and played.
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I Admire Science And Yet
I admire science and yet
it sometimes seems to me
I’d rather wash beside a stream
than with a big machine.
The noise of sirens, engines
is not as good to me
as pleasant click-clack of the hooves
of horses come to feed.
I find the noise of living
is more than we should bear
and not as pleasant as the leaves
and streams in autumn air.
The urgency of living
is not as great to me
as living with the seasons
as they flew pleasantly.
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