The snake has left its skin behind
In hope that those who watch are blind
To cuckold all before their eyes
And speed their cultures quick demise
All values lost the powers lag
Who will defend the heroes flag ?
The snake has left its skin behind
In hope that those who watch are blind
To cuckold all before their eyes
And speed their cultures quick demise
All values lost the powers lag
Who will defend the heroes flag ?
I miss my mom I loved her so
I’d like to think that when I go
To join her in the promised land
She will be there to take my hand.
But if this hope cannot be so
I’m sure that I will never know
And little matter does it make
If this belief is a mistake.
Here is the message we may save
There is no mem’ry in the grave !
I love you Lord, this much I know
I’m thankful for the trees that grow
The flowers that will all spring forth
As winter winds escape due north,
The raucous clouds that bring us rain
To help implode great fields of grain
And snow that melts into the stream
Where schools of fish will spawn and teem.
I’m grateful for the air that sings
And carries life upon its wings
The gull, the dove, the sparrow small
Belong to God as do we all !
My Mother taught me how to smile
To keep my values all worthwhile
And try to be both sweet and kind
Despite the anger one may find.
My Father taught me to be true
Respect the old red, white and blue,
To honor God with faith and deed
And cultivate both plant and seed.
My Nana taught me how to pray
And live with truth from day to day
My Pop he gave me sober thought
To follow all the lessons taught.
My old Aunt Rose helped me to grow
Into the girl who learned to sew
My children taught me how to wait
With patience at lifes starting gate.
I’m blest for all the lessons learned
And grateful for the friends I’ve earned
But most of all I’m thankful for
The chance to knock at God’s front door.
This heart of mine has run its race
But finds there is a lot more space
To gather in those left outside
Who’ve lost their way, their hope, their pride.
They need some help to reinvent
The manner days and lives are spent
While we who’ve tred this path before
Have learned to knock upon the door
That opens wide to Gods true way
To teach, to help, to thank, to pray !
The time has come the book is read
We will not scurry to our bed
For all our dreams will fade and die
In that brief space we bid goodbye.
The earthly stores we hid away
Will come to nought on that last day
Our lives were meant to end in grace
As we now know it’s God we face.
EXCUSE ME, but where do I register to vote ? My first official act upon returning to HOBOKEN in the 70’s was to sign the voting register. From that day to this I don’t believe that I have missed even the most insignificant election, if such a thing exists ! I have come to the conclusion that in a democracy there is nothing of insignificance about our freedom of choice. When we originally migrated to Hoboken I was referred to as a “New Yorker”, my knowledge of New York somewhat limited to Macy’s, the Museum of Natural History, South Street Seaport and Balducci’s ! A friend commented to me the other day “You’re beginning to sound like old Hoboken”. At last, ACCEPTANCE ! The remark was prompted by my observation that I had not seen a familiar face in a popular eatery the whole evening, I’m not sure that I enjoyed the feeling ! However I concluded I’d been cocooning since the last election, unable to decipher what changes would mean to me. I was going to miss the Old Guard just when I was beginning to agree with them ! Having spent too many years in suburbia, I had come to expect politics to be a quasi-part-time occupation indulged in by retired CEOs to perk up leisuretime. How little I knew ! Today I was being replaced by new blood and differing concepts, time to go with the flow. I still haven’t quite accepted the fact that Pollyanna has moved on ! Who would believe one could achieve anonymity in a one mile square area where everyone still stoop-sits ? Progress, as media are crying, “loss of privacy”. Excuse me but I need to put my name on my doorbell ! Sincerely, Claire B.
It will be, Lord what it will be
An homage to our victory
For words we’ve said and deeds we’ve done
There in dark night and light of sun.
Man is not one of patient soul
He searches for his selfish goal
And lusting for uneven chance
He will indulge the devils dance.
He’ll shift and lie and pounce and weave
Before he scurries off to leave
He has no weight and is not true
There is no faith in what he’ll do !
Hence we must wait until he’s spent
To ponder where our freedoms went
It will take time to garner strength
To help retrieve our lives at length
But we shall win have no small doubt
God is our Hero most devout !
At last the time has come for us to see
The battles that define our legacy
That follow us wherever we may go
No matter what the odds win, place or show.
This world a test in which we must compete
Display our colours calmly in defeat
And if by chance the winners we should be
Do take the lead with deep humility.
Have faith and trust in that we will conceive
Know God abides in all that we believe !
We know the hand of God above
Bids us accept His way of love
This should be so for all of us
The fuel of life’s great omnibus.
To lead another by the hand
We find it sense to understand
God made no one to live alone
Our hearts and heads not carved of stone.
We own the power to include care
With values that we keep and share
Our duty is to love with joy
In truthful ways we need employ
For love is more than carnal lust
It’s kind and sweet and sure and just.
On wings of hope our dreams take flight
To carry us through troubled night
Up to the clouds above our heads
While we sleep tight upon our beds.
For dreams can be the sweetest things
As we escape on quilted wings,
Then wish no more my precious child
That days will be both kind and mild.
Our God shall greet us as we fly
Into His arms with lullaby
And sing a song there while we sleep
To cradle all the fears we keep
And waken with the mornings light
To other fortunes beaming bright !
There is one truth of which I’m sure
The infants heart is good and pure
His innocence exists innate,
While growing he is taught to hate.
A child that’s raised in wisdoms care
Is one who learns to give and share.
His kindly deeds and honest ways
Will closely shadow all his days,
And if we shower him with cheer
One day may lead us out of fear.
My heart cries out, the pain intense
What life is this devoid of sense ?
Are we all mad or lost our mind
As time moves on what shall we find ?
Is peace a word we’ll disregard,
Which human traits shall we discard ?
I think we’ve had enough of this
The loss of faith and lack of bliss,
It’s time for us to lift our eyes
Ask God to speed mans just reprise !
The winds of war blow harsh and shrill
To pierce the heart with their bone chill
Battles fought without thought or care
While wars are waged by those who’d dare.
Fear that’s wrought upon the living
Small time spent in kindness giving
To save the world and aid the meek
The peace of God has none to speak.
There to some end that one can’t name
They kill the young, the old, the game
Both sides lay dying in the street
Finality which tastes defeat,
The sense of it one cannot see
Oh war, where is thy victory ?
Thank you Lord for another day
The wind is cool the sky is gray
But if we wait a little while
The morning sun begins to smile.
Such joy to wake this way each morn
Why should I feel lost or forlorn ?
My heart is full my mind is clear
My love of God defeats my fear
I am so glad that I can see
God’s gracious care that comforts me !
EXCUSE ME, they’re playing our song ! Do you remember the words ? “God bless America land that I love”. A kind of poetry, words of songs that began with men like George M. Cohan and women like Kate Smith. Words we’ve disregarded for years in lieu of MTA, Walkman, Beatles, Michael Jackson and even Lionel Ritchie. The problem has been that we haven’t made room for both, like forgetting how great a cold beer is after acquiring a taste for Stoli on the rocks! “She’s the emblem of the land I love, the home of the free and the brave,”. It used to be, these songs filled many a hall with resounding applause and many a heart with astounding pride. What “the world needs now ” is a healthy dose of plain old fashioned patriotism. Let’s see a show of hands and maybe a show of flags. Take time out to thank someone for doing their job well, a nurse, teacher, postman, waiter, bus driver, a child. Maybe they’ll thank us in return by doing even better ! Today we stand at the crossroads and must choose between old habits or a rejuvenated search for national identity. Look around, we grouse too much, blame someone else, ask others to do our job not realizing that we are each an integral part of the whole. A broken toe causes a body to limp, throw away the crutches, stand up tall and stop playing cripple! Excuse me while I salute the flag! Sincerely, Claire B.
The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year 1918, that was the original Armistice Day that morphed into Veteran’s Day in 1954. My only sibling was born at that precise moment in 1939. My dad referred to her as his “American Flag” ! She weighed in at 8 lbs. 11 oz. and became the epitome of patriotism as she grew. She sure could write ! Recently, necessity demanded that I winnow my mementoes, the result being the discovery of my original DATELINE articles self-published for the patrons of HOBOKEN HOUSE, I will be sharing, without editing, these 30 year old articles and hope you may find the humor is still applicable ! Good luck with that, right ? For those of you who thirst for other avenues of interest, may I suggest that you read “Thieves of Baghdad” by my son, Colonel Matthew Bogdanos, U.S.M.C., retired, an exciting account of the search for ancient relics. Do you remember that old commercial, “Try it, you’ll like it !”, perhaps ? Sincerely, Claire B.
I miss the dream that slipped away
It fluttered by and did not stay
I’ve missed it all these many years
And always will recall the tears.
This dream of ours that was so sweet
Left me alone here incomplete
My heart was lost and insecure
Too sad to say there’s been no cure.
My love was strong my heart was true
I hoped somehow yours could be too !
Beseech the Lord, He’s always there
Lift up your voice to Him in prayer
And raise your arms to call His name
Beg Him help save the halt and lame.
Grant us the strength to see this through
Roll back black clouds from skies of blue
Reach out a hand which we may clasp
Or garments edge that we can grasp.
Lord with each breath we’ll ask today
For aid to carry us away
Upon the winds in God’s command
We’ll follow Him air, sea and land.
Oh brisk November, cold and chill
Baring all of bleak winters ill
Your days are short while nights are long
The winds too brash, the currents strong.
The message that’s delivered here
Now echoes clearly on the ear
No matter what your stay may bring
God guarantees each newborn spring.
I’ve thought a lot about romance
And pondered if a second chance
Might be of value at some stage
Who has the time at this ripe age ?
The faithful love that does endure
Is one which is both kind and sure
Within this sphere that we may share
The love of God for whom we care !
The dark angel has passed me by
One cannot guess how glad am I
I’ve been upon this path before
And grateful now he’s skipped my door.
I am not ready yet to die
There is much left that I must ply
Perhaps he’ll understand my plight
Convinced I’m not too weak to fight.
Of course he’ll try another day
And know when I can’t longer stay
But when that time arrives at last
I’ll pack my dreams and exit fast !
It seems to me as our frantic life moves on
There’s one book of wisdom we can lean upon !
Can it be that I’m a dreamer who fritters life away
And does not have the sense at least to try another way ?
True I don’t have the answer as to what my life should be
But I hope that God approves if I choose humility.
I am so sad I’ve lost a friend
Much too soon for ones life to end,
Seems time had only just begun
Replete with love and joy and fun,
And now to bid this last goodbye
Ere the angels teach her to fly !
Her gentle smile, her charm and grace
Her tender ways, her sweet, sweet face
She’s left us with her last embrace
And gone to find God’s holy place.
The wind moves quickly through the trees
Loose missiles sailing on the breeze
Branches bristling flush with their leaves
Some landing there upon the eaves
Some flying swiftly to the ground
Others blowing turn round and round.
Like fugitives in some mad race
Each seeking their own resting place
Gusts increasing now growing bold
Like vestiges of legends old
That leave to us our final quest
We must survive old Natures best.