The skeletons of life parade
Across the doorway of the mind
Where most decisions have been made
And chances, good and bad do wind.
The time is now, let us declare
The love of God is on our side
Before we channel, let’s beware
This cannot be a foolish ride !
The thoughts they rise quick from the heart
So like a stream of stop and start
There is no way there is control
As words just start to roll and roll
Quite like the breeze or winds that blow
To keep recording with the flow
While from the mind this message send
T’would be alright if it should end !
There is a place we all yearn to be
It’s not across some far-widened sea
Nor over hills or great mountainsides
And not where malice or anger hides.
It’s not under trees that reach for sky
Or where the eagles and buzzards fly
It’s just a place around the last bend
Of a lonesome road that seeks its end,
To that spot where most lives got their start
And have left behind their lonely heart !
A misty morn does greet my eyes
The snow capped rooftops seem surprised
White carpet covers everywhere
The streets appear all stark and bare
This bleak facade that I now see
Lies still in ice cold harmony.
A likely thought that comes to mind
As winter winds have grown unkind
It’s time to host a fireside chat
‘Bout pleasant themes or this and that
There cuddled up in some huge chair
With warm and happy thoughts to share !
Do you remember times gone by
When stardust sprinkled evening sky
And silence was a welcome friend
Who visited at each day’s end ?
When words were meant to carry us
Into the twilight’s quiet hush
With thoughts of what is yet to come
To comfort all and solace some ?
This simple task, a wistful one
Recalls how quickly life is done
While all we’ve known does go astray
Soon to become our yesterday !
Sometimes I think that I am smart
Possessed of kind and loving heart
My timid soul has tried its best
To reach the goal or pass the test.
At times I fall and get up fast
While rapidly, brief moments pass
Swift hours go by and I wax old
My bones seem stiff, my feet are cold.
The winds of change have come and gone
I have retained my lexicon,
I think I’d like just one more chance
Before my last and final dance !
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.
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.
And now the debt repaying
with all reality
One incurred so long ago
called infidelity!
If we could attain by the
sheer power of love
Then all of the world would be
mine for the loving!
My whole life lies before me
In an open box I see
All its secrets betraying
Seems it goes without saying !
I think it’s time to put our dreams away
Lest we should lose that touch of day to day
That fills the void of each and ev’ry hour
With common sense that energizes power.
I have lived in quite a few divers places, observing their customs and mores ( sound the ES as EZ ) and guarantee you, we have been blessed as no other nation ! Let us not slay the goose that lays the golden eggs, I beg you !
A-B-C-D, D-Day who remembers? This is one of my ” special ” dates, 6/6/44, that time cannot fade and years should not erase! We all need to be reminded once in a while of man’s inhumanity to man, and one trip to the beaches of Normandy reinforces that belief. Each time that I return to this consecrated ground I am reminded of those men, women and children, numbering in the millions worldwide, whose lives were changed forever on that day. From Ste. Mere Eglise to that piece of land deemed to be our sovereign soil, called the American Cemetery, you cannot keep a dry eye! It makes you feel so insignificant and so powerless. What a history lesson! May I suggest that you try it?
Sincerely,
Claire B.
Have you ever thought about the importance of words? The impact? Such power! We need to take great care not to elicit ” improper ” response or reaction to poorly ” selected ” verbs, nouns and pronouns. It is our duty since words are our ” work tools ” and come with implied cautions, prime example being ” Conciliation With The Colonies ” by Edmund Burke ! Read it.
Let’s consider Marie Antoinette’s ” Let them eat cake, ” that was a true ” faux- pas “, do you agree? How about ” Give me liberty or give me death “, 1775, what a result ! We are all familiar with Booth’s , ” Sic semper Tyrannus “, and notice what that brought about ! Heck, I’ve just begun, try on, ” VINI, VIDI, VICI ” for size. There’s ” Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes, ” of Bunker Hill notoriety and what of John Paul Jones, while in English waters, ” I have not yet begun to fight “?
Can you picture Revere riding ” cross – country ” minus G.P.S., on his horse, shouting ” The British are coming “? Do I see a few smiles emerging? I am impressed with Hale’s, ” I regret that I have but one life to give for my country “, aren’t you? We are and have been a nation of heroes from our very first humble beginnings; a blending of convicts , slaves, fatherless exiles, deserters, whores, the dregs of European society and those seeking religious autonomy! So let’s keep it up, after all this IS America the great! Do you agree? HooRah! God bless us all.
Sincerely,
Claire B.
There’s a time in life that needs a resting space,
There’s a space in time that needs a quiet place,
There’s a dream in life that withstands blinding test,
There’s a time in dreams that requires peaceful rest.
My sense of humor is so typically Gallic,
Simple sarcasm gently blended with Teutonic
Arrogance, however it appears to work well,
Or have I been deluding myself once again?
As I ponder those emotions past with feeling
Unto my thoughts a certain wisdom appealing,
It’s the sentiment I recall though not the love
Which fleeting time did somehow wither lust above,
Wherefore have I been, what lucid thoughts have I held
The pressing loss that truth indeed for lack compelled,
The stress did seem unreal and reason query why,
An ending to my passion, for this need imply.
Our lifespan covers a limited time, ought more,
And wanton waste, the seasons of our life deplore,
There are nought other worlds to conquer in our quest
To seek, enjoy, fulfill and leave behind the rest
Hence, can we not to live content with who we are,
For love as such, may curry favor near or far.
Can it be that our dreams
are but the musings of angels
softly whispered whilst we sleep?
What is there above stripped limbs that I can spy
Wedged between those spiny arms that reach too high?
One browned and muddy shelter grown obsolete
That time ago, to some bird, was world complete,
With its leafy covert fallen to the ground
Where it lies in lifeless and decaying mound.
Now empty and deserted this wasting nest
That in prime, to brooding chicks gave healthy rest.
Poor lonely home of use no more, bleak and bare,
Lost legacy of one transient flying pair
Struggling in that tangled sea of life’s morass.
Thus observed, swiftly it is, through age we pass,
To leave behind this remnant of what had been
Some message of deep concern to kith and kin.
Consider lessons now sealed within those walls,
In its girth, did gift the heart and cushion falls.
Then build our nests for each youth, both sleek and trim,
Though we guide them well, the rest is left to Him.
I believe that the wind is the spirit of God
That carries on its gentle breath a hymn that sings
A song of joy, caressing vibrant hill and sod
To bring us light and bless His smallest happenings.
Oft I have heard a stranger say
That home is but a mile away,
And oft I’ve heard a comic say
That laughter’s but a smile away.
Oft I have heard a suitor say
That love is but a kiss away
And oft I’ve heard the preacher say
That God is just a prayer away.
Oft have I heard the wounded say
That help is but a cry away
And oft I’ve heard a soldier say
Peace is just one battle away.
Oft have I heard an artist say
Achievement’s just a task away
And oft I’ve heard the dying say
Salvation’s but a breath away.
Oft have I heard my own heart say
Tomorrow’s but a day away,
More oft I’ve heard a wiseman say
The truth is but a lie away.
Oh, bright hope and trembling aspiration,
Threatened by reality’s confrontation,
Fertile dreams that skirt the realm of success
With thoughts that magnitude in deed possess,
Coerced by conscience ofttimes seized by doubt,
Bold in fervor and brave façade without.
Schemes that reek with brass determination
And beg aloud for joint cooperation,
Now restricted by society’s concept,
Whilst confined by past attitudes inept,
For this is woman, born to serve not lead
With scant concern that she fulfill her need.
Supple arms and quivering femininity
Promising passion with whispered divinity,
The striking blow of vanity to find
This fragile one conceals an agile mind.
Yesterday, a leaf fell from my favorite tree,
In silence, all alone, I watched it slip and slide,
Turning somersaults, drifting, so melodically,
Graceful, with nought other passage than downward glide.
For one fleet second, thoughts of revolution grew
And cast themselves across the windows of my mind,
Where fragments of one’s journey weigh for times,untrue,
Inciting spasms of questing doubt, life doth blind.
We are, each soul of us, mediocre in our way,
Endowed with talents born long ago, yesterday.
Skills that we erringly believe to be unique
Consume other needs, while that special praise we seek.
Observed through private mirrors which the mind collects.
And colored by the ego that our pride reflects,
Images, much gilded by vision clouded, seen,
And silvered by the hope that we are as we dream.
Mankind, foolish, now wanting, thinking what will be,
Wastes his days midst effort veiled by futility.
That cycle, which in youth, had its first beginning,
Will end in age, with neither losing or winning.
How can you pluck even the smallest weed
That does spring and grow from the meanest seed
Whose path whistled on the wind’s sowing song
Whence carried to earth’s bed and there belonged?
Now we’ve called them each by some awkward name
And we’ll stunt their spread or we’ll make them tame.
A weed is a whisp of unwanted fare
That lives by a road when others won’t dare.
It covers a meadow that grass will shun
Or bides in a spot that greets not the sun.
Weeds are a blessing in myriad ways
Craftily seen on the plainest of days,
Flaunting their garb with a bit of aplomb
At times when even the bees cease to hum.
A weed’s like a thought that fear can’t destroy
Using up space that none else will employ,
Forcing us all to encounter some things
We’d sooner forget life’s mutiny brings.
I listened to the sound of bumblebees at play
While the muted echo of caterpillars’ sway,
Subtle and seductive, lent a special whistle
To the singing reeds where hid a dancing thistle.
The clamor of the wind where hungry leap frogs strayed
Mid grass alive with noise when all their eggs were laid,
Made unvenal chorus, too vibrant and alive
Like a blaring trumpet I thought I’d not survive,
Then with one rousing movement and crescendo rise
Hungered for the silence to follow my demise.
At mornings there are times when I
Upon my couch, rejected lie,
And ponder o’er the many schemes
That filled my days and were my dreams.
I spied a bird that paused in flight,
He battled not with conscience‘ might.
I climbed a tree that was so tall
And cried because my aims were small.
I heard a song that had no tune
And wished upon some waning moon
To be a bird and restless fly
Against God’s canvas of the sky.
There, seek to find another day
Or mayhaps learn the better way
To fill my life with keener zest,
Perform great deeds before my rest.
I will to you this last reply
To neither question nor deny
That days of man are wasted spent
To wonder where his lifetime went,
Whereas each bird doth leave behind
Abundant seed the rain will find.
I have built myself a fortress not made of mortar and stone
Its windows draped in make- believe, doorposts hung with hope unflown.
I’ll dwell in this castle forever that’s built aside a hill
To blanket those sounds of reality lingering cold and chill.
The walls are painted with laughter as mellow as morning light
And the floors are set with marble in various moods of bright.
I’ve cushioned each lonely settle with pillows that sing out loud
And brought in a bit of heaven that rests above like a cloud,
I’ve garnered inside with flowers to bring the outdoors within
Assured when the winds of time blow bold my sunshine will begin.
Each room has a view of a garden with pine trees ever tall
Shutters to bar the sight of the things I refuse to recall.
I may bide in this place till never, safe from the outside pain
Like a child in storybook fashion who yearns to try again.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 