A simple man rose up one day
And felt he had just cause to say
A thank you for his every need
To God above who gave him heed
With blessed morn and evening star
Safe path to walk both near and far
The sense to think and hear and see
Deep gratitude that he is free
And pride of nation as he prays
For God to bless his future days.
Small matter what great deeds men do
With actions witnessed by the few
Who dying fall by roadside bend
Await the words of passing friend
Or stranger who without a cause
Did notice and took time to pause
And comment in a feeling way
About what happened on that day
And that is how the story grows
Turning lads into folk heroes !
The world is drowning in distress
I know you’ve heard it’s S. O. S.
Their cries get lost in foolish things
Like selfishness vain glory brings
While on their lips all stained with lies
These wanton ones, Gods will defies
They carry on with true remiss
There seems no way we can dismiss
Horrendous waste that they sustain
Until we’ve learned to trust our brain !
While echoes of my words seem overdue
Some whispers of my thoughts keep pushing through !
These are the dreams that we’ve forgot
They’ll linger long or tarry not
Because we are all that we’ve got
This is our goal, our life, our lot !
Forgotten things you’ve left behind,
Footsteps in sand as days unwind,
A trail of tears that time may find,
The scent of air amidst the pine.
The older we get, the more precious the memories, do you agree ? Those terrible years of the Great depression followed by the worldwide destruction of war will forever bring tears to my eyes and a longing in my heart that knows no consolation ! The cost was too high, the loss too great. It engendered a new wave in poetry and literature, Plath, Pound, Masefield, Yeats, Steinbeck, Houseman. I’ve chosen to quote John Masefield. You’ve read about the English teacher who opened my mind and eyes, Lorena Fry, she worked in this country most of her adult life, was born and educated in England and returned home each summer and upon her retirement moved there permanently. Her family home abutted that of Masefield and according to her they were good friends ( I often thought she loved him, my girlish musings ! Woodstock ? ). I am sorry that she never knew how she broadened my life ! This is from “Tewkesbury Road” : “O, to feel the beat of the rain, and the homely smell of the earth, Is a tune for the blood to jig to, a joy past power of words; And the blessed green comely meadows are all a ripple with mirth At the noise of the lambs at play and the dear wild cry of the birds”.
John Masefield Please read this poetic genius and his words and dream !
Sincerely, Claire B.
I’ve known an angel here and there
They’ve helped me in my deep despair
Some angels did get left behind
Another goal they chose to find.
They fell from grace in record time
Their wings were clipped and edged with grime
Their deeds of good did fade away
Their faces bright turned dull and gray.
I’ve seen a few and touched their wings
But shy away from evil things
God saw their work and turned His face
He would not help those in disgrace.
They lost their good and all their mirth
And fell from heaven to the earth
Their tales of weakness followed here
Too soon they will all disappear !
In this world full of people I’m thinking perhaps
The intelligent move to avoid all the traps
And nestle away in some contented disguise
Might be the direction to foil any reprise.
I’m afraid we’re remiss in our casual ways
And are earning the harvest of our reckless days
It’s a cumbersome load that we carry too fast
T’would be better to learn from mistakes of the past.
Have I said that I am proud to be Jersey born and bred ? Well I am ! Back in the 30’s we still had small pockets of Lenni-Lenape Indians along the Metedeconk River near Cedarwood Park ( no running water ). You will notice that I’ve previously mentioned this fact because it connotes “delicately ” that we lacked indoor plumbing. But very CLEAN outhouses ! Also sometimes very COLD !! And my great grandma, “economist” that she was, used the tissue- like pages of catalogs such as Sears for “service roll”. She had heavy black wire from the house hung on huge tree limbs with sockets containing bare bulbs for outdoor lighting especially on the stone pathways to the garage fitted out for the summer visitors, the large hand pump for outdoor uses like brushing teeth, bathing and laundry AND the facility for “nature’s call” which was amongst the pines, out of necessity ! I sure loved my grandma, I know I was her favorite and ONLY great grandchild. She rose about 5 in the morning to bake her daily bread, I would tip-toe down those wide stairs to the kitchen to have my breakfast each morning. A treat I have never forgotten, a thick slab of warm homemade bread slathered with whipped sweet butter ceremoniously dipped into the huge crystal bowl that held the sugar accompanied by a heavy ironstone mug of foamy chocolate. Who had it better ? She’d had 7 living children, 5 of whom never left home ! I may have inherited her strong resolve and independent nature. You think ? I never heard her raise her voice except to God and thanks to Eastman Kodak, I still have the old camera AND precious photos!
Sincerely, Claire B.
I met a boy I know not when
So long ago remember then
How is it that I can’t forget
Within this life a deep regret ?
I’ve turned a corner in my mind
While searching but I cannot find
The special closeness that we shared
And like most hopes were unprepared.
We did not meet, no not today
As other strangers had their way
And yet the past is always there
It mattered not how much we cared.
In all our dreams it’s far too late
No matter then how long we’d wait
The sadness that I can’t deny
We never got to say goodbye !
As the rain pours down
With a splashing sound
And the wind blows wild
Over branches piled
In the roadways path
Due to natures wrath
Where the torrents run
Till the storm is done
If you lift your eyes
To the troubled skies
You may sense God’s hand
At the helms command !
Our lips must whisper a fervent prayer
Our hearts must echo its plaintive air
The mist must cover the nights delay
The winds must carry our breath away
We need give life one more chance to find
Some lasting peace that won’t cloud our mind
It matters not where the blame must fall
Remember God helps forgive us all !
Wishing cannot alter conditions
But praying changes attitudes and
Attitudes can affect our behavior
Radically ! So for God’s sake
And yours, PRAY !!
( my Nana taught me that prayer changes things )
Within my heart there is this hole
To fill its void becomes my goal
What shall I do if efforts fail
I’ve tried my best to lift the veil
That weighs so heavy on my chest
I cannot spare one moments rest
Until I give this empty space
Some purpose that will chance embrace
All those I’ve loved and I am sure
That without God there is no cure !
Shall we sally our forces into the great unknown
Where the agony courses thru man’s malice alone
What causes this strange madness in a sensible mind
Is there help for the sadness some solution to find ?
We have lost our way at last seems there is no winning
Simply take heed of the past restart the beginning !
You can’t believe that man is all alone
If exiled to some isle of rock and stone
There is no spot on earth that’s out of bound
Know God’s been there before we touch the ground
We need avow that He has set the rules
Our role is learning care with proper tools
And keeping faith profound within our hearts
Lest we should miss the blessing God imparts.
that poets see
with the eyes of the heart
but hear
with the ears of the mind
I wonder ?
There is so much love and there’s so much hate
It occurs to me that the hour grows late
And the world grows cold in its need of haste
As we ignore how much it’s laying waste
To our hopes, our joys and moderate ways,
With not one thought to the ending of days
We’ll seek answers there in the mystic deep
Because in our dreams even dragons sleep !
When I remember who I used to be
Before the wealth of years had set me free
I dwell upon the days when we were friends
Those glory days before the story ends
Its tender moments that the heart did find
My memories are pieces left behind.
My mom quite often spoke of angels
Blessing us from their holy bethels
As if they’d been her life’s truest friends
Possessing great skills making amends.
Truly she loved their heavenly ways
Frequently singing hymns in their praise
And speaking with God, as I recall
From early rising till even’s fall.
I miss her sweet voice, she loved to sing
Angels can hear her songs echoing !
We’re asking God to help us find
A safer path to peace of mind
Not just for us but all mankind
Disperse the clouds that rend us blind
And forge our faith and will to bind
Our hearts to deeds both wise and kind.
Of all the deeds that I have done
Like all the prizes I have won
They wither on life’s weather vine
And lose themselves in acts divine.
I’m most impressed by pelting rain
That crashes on my window pane
And storms that rage throughout the night
Or mornings drenched with precious sight.
A rose that grows without a thorn
Is natures wonder to be born
Such joys that man cannot command
To rule this life and breath at hand.
Seems fate has willed the final toss
On freedoms chains and wisdoms loss
There’s but one answer I can state
That man is small while God is great !
As I waken the words just fill my head
I write them down as fast as they are said
The rhyme is simple and the words ring true
Simply cannot stop till the thought is through.
Don’t know if this process will ever cease
I’ve prayed hard to find a kind of release
To begin my day with another act
Like some worthy cause or related fact.
I know the summer’s gone to rest
I feel the sun upon my chest
I am a part of natures race
I feel her breeze upon my face.
The gushing dawn assails my eye
My heart so full I want to cry
While tiny creatures rush around
My ears are blessed with mornings sound.
It’s strange to see leaves downward drift
These roustabouts my spirits lift
The dreams we’ve lost may chance survive
Because we’ve learned how to revive.
I hear the wind brush through my hair
The smell of fall now fills the air
With each crisp gust my spirits fly
As moments rise and heave and sigh.
I sense the chill that’s not yet there
I shall partake of this worlds share
My spirits grow so full of cheer
I laugh because God’s love is here !
As I reflect on our lives today
I query where we have gone astray
I miss the hymns that the choir sang
The peal of bells as they rang and rang,
The quiet charm of a Sunday morn
A veil of silence that welcomes dawn
Where have these signs of our grace now flown
To leave us here with vision unknown ?
I awoke this AM from a dream of a long ago memory ! It was spring 1936, I was a little girl in a pretty ruffled dress at the wedding of my mothers only sister to a man who always smiled ! Tho’ they were both a bit old for the occasion ! Now I believe there must be a reason for the dream, never dreamt of them before ! My Aunt Olga must not be confused with “old” Aunt Olga, this was my godmother, born in a flat on Willow in Hoboken, March 25, 1910, Good Friday. My Pop called her his “hot cross bun”. As a girl she played piano and soloed as a choir soprano in several local churches. Exceedingly ambitious, graduated from Katherine Gibbs, she became a bilingual court stenographer and translator in N.Y. court system. She met her future husband, college graduate and rising “management” at Hanover Bank downtown. Of course their “paradise” ended with Pearl Harbor, as Selective Service rapidly drafted 1 A’s, single, married, no children, college degree, those on the edge of age 38, before they avoided draft eligibility. My uncle was fluent in English, German and French, he became part of the cadre of those administering justice and prosecution of war crimes, an experience from which he never truly recovered ! My aunt became the companion and driver of Anne Morrow Lindbergh when she lived in New Jersey years ago and loved her job. They worked hard, were kind and loving, sharing a long life together, entering the Bergen Pines Veteran’s Home where they both died in late 90’s. Rare indeed, yes? The greatest generation !!
Sincerely, Claire B.
I’m dreaming here with all my might
From early morn to darkest night
My courage failing like some child
Who’s seen his hero’s fame defiled.
Oh small sad sight, I worry much
That I will lose my magic touch
And miss the hope that will be gone
If there’s no star to wish upon.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 