Zest

when I was young, I didn’t think

I acted knowing I couldn’t die

so sure of myself, brimming

with confidence I moved

sometimes in the wrong direction

ruled by whims and emotions

my heart won over my head

yet I had all the answers

or so I thought

until one day I awoke

to find I’d grown old

and understood

I did not

now I have questions

but no solid answers

none that satisfy

nothing I can point to

or say this is so

and I can prove it

I do think these days

I wonder about everything

I know life is fragile

fleeting

almost gone

that is why I know

these moments are precious

so I will live out

my remaining years

with unstoppable

        ZEST

 

 

 

The Farmer's Year

The harvest is ended; the fields are picked clean.

Nothing remains for the gleaners to glean.

The fields are buried beneath two feet of snow,

To wait for spring when the farmer will sow.

 

Icy winds are howling their wintery blasts.

The farmer sits by his fire out of the draft.

He is at work formulating a plan,

For next year's season on his plot of land.

 

He sips coffee and calculates the cost,

Of what he has made and all he has lost.

Hail came decimating acres of wheat.

Borers took his corn crop down in defeat.

 

He has thought about leaving time and again,

But farming is his life; he’s part of the land.

He isn’t discouraged; it’s all in the game,

Yet he prays that next year won’t turn out the same.

 

He scribbles his plans on a brown paper sack,

Then walks to the window to stretch his back.

The fallow soil calls from under the snow.

The farmer whispers, “God, let abundant crops grow.”

 

 

Black Velvet Dress

A long, sensual dress of black velvet,

Hung in her small bedroom closet waiting.

She couldn’t find a man who merited it.

She’d searched; no one was worthy of the dress.

 

It was form fitting, low cut, elegant,

And slinky with a slit up the left side.

The dress would turn heads everywhere she went,

But she never went anywhere in it.

 

Sometimes she looked at the dress hanging there,

With a yearning to put it on someday.

She’d wait to find a man to make her care.

Meanwhile, the velvet dress could stay on hold.

 

Styles come and go, but the dress was classic.

Black velvet never goes out of fashion.

She did; the aging process was drastic.

Her face revealed deep lines; her hair was white.

 

She finally tried the dress on one day.

It still fit like a hand in a black glove,

But it was so moth-eaten and decayed,

That she had to discard it with her dreams.

 

 

Say Uncle

“Say uncle,” the big bully demanded.

“Say it or I’ll break your arm like a twig.”

The smaller boy did as he commanded.

“Uncle!” he cried and wished that he was big.

 

The bully swaggered off in grandiose style,

With a grin plastered on his evil face.

The dejected victim walked for a mile,

Until he arrived at last at his place.

 

With his nose bleeding and his white shirt torn,

He entered the house and went to his room.

There on his bed he sat feeling forlorn,

On a colorful crazy quilt of gloom.

 

This wasn’t the first time he’d been through this.

He’d suffered this way many times before.

He sat thinking and clenching his small fists,

Then he got up and walked out through the door.

 

He went down the stairs and into the kitchen.

His mother stood there at the kitchen sink,

Working on washing the salad fixings.

She turned and saw him and knew what to think.

 

“Not again. I thought we said not to fight.”

“Mom, I just tried to get away from John.

He’s a bully and you know that I’m right.

I’ve got to win or he’ll never be gone.”

 

His mother cleaned him up without a word.

Then told him to go change out of his torn shirt.

Tommy wondered if she had really heard,

What he’d told her and it made his heart hurt.

 

The next day he took a baseball bat to school.

The bully was not expecting what he got.

He thought little Tommy was weak and a fool,

But soon learned he most certainly was not.

 

After that, John wanted to be a friend.

He'd learned a hard lesson right off the bat.

His bullying days had come to an end.

Little Tommy had succeeded in that.

 

 

Time for Tears Today

The delicate veil of life was torn away.

There was no time for saying our good-byes,

Yet there is ample time for tears today.

 

The pain that pervades won’t be held at bay.

It will not fade no matter how hard I try.

The delicate veil of life was torn away.

 

So struggling to face each uncertain day,

I will smile when my heart would rather sigh,

Yet there is ample time for tears today.

 

There was so much unsaid we had left to say.

You were taken and my spirit left to die.

The delicate veil of life was torn away.

 

There is still the promise we will meet someday.

Maybe then we shall know and understand why,

Yet there is ample time for tears today.

 

We will walk on that splendid golden way,

And never another parting tear shall we cry.

The delicate veil of life was torn away,

Yet there is ample time for tears today.

 

 

 

 

 

Netherworld

In the dark region called the netherworld,

Dwells those consigned to the haunt of demons.

Unclean creatures like bats with wings unfurled,

And gruesome beasts sent to torment once freemen,

Abide in the corridors of damnation.

Constant horror and sorrow hold captive,

Those making up this despairing nation,

With no kind jailor who will activate,

 A speedy pardon for inmates interred here.

Once there, there you shall remain forever.

There’ll be no escaping the gnawing fear,

And no lawyer, no matter how clever,

Will find a way to commute the sentence.

The isolation drives the damned insane,

As they scream in an ongoing death dance.

It is a ballet consisting of pain.

This place must be avoided at all costs.

Its ruler isn’t filled with benevolence.

It is the home of the eternally lost.

Pray to stay free and clear through providence.

 

 

 

 

Killjoy

Nobody likes a killjoy.

You know the variety,

The one who sees a big cloud,

And never a silver lining,

Every glass is only half full,

There’s something wrong with everything,

And no one quite measures up.

He’s the wet blanket at every party,

The bucket of cold water on every joke,

And the spoilsport at every sporting event.

He is the definition of a stick-in-the mud.

Criticism is the killjoy’s forte.

He knows how it should be done.

He won’t do the job, but lives to complain.

Thriving on his own curmudgeonly outlooks,

He’s made a world where he reigns.

The kingdom becomes a lonely place,

Because the other citizens rebelled,

And left long ago in search of fun.

 So smile, it’ll improve your style,

 And for goodness sake don’t be a sourpuss.

 

 

 

 

J is for Jitterbug

 Do the jitterbug around the clock ,

 To that jumpy, jivy, jazzy rock.

Crank that swing music up one more notch,

And the jitterbugging will not stop.

It began with Cab in nineteen thirty-four,

Call of the Jitterbug made them want more.

Those swinging smooth moves were a sight to see,

With a hi de hi de ho and a tee hee hee.

Throw in a jigger of gin and one of wine,

And soon you’ll be jitterbugging just fine.

As you move your feet and sway your pelvis,

You’ll be jiving almost as well as Elvis.

Cast off your inhibitions; let it roll.

It’s beneficial to both body and soul.

Grab your loving sweetheart by the hand,

And do the jitterbug to beat the band.

Dance the blues and the long night away.

I’ll say good-night: I’m calling it a day.

 

 

 

 

F is for Fireworks

There’s no use in trying to hide it. I am a Libertarian by ideology and by nature. I border on complete chaos, but have settled for wanting the least amount of government possible. I’ve always hated being told want to do or think, so I find the intrusiveness of government more than I can stand. Governmental tentacles are choking freedom as it insidiously inserts itself into every aspect of life. I believe more in a live and let live policy, but recently something has happened here in Maine that causes me to question my ideals. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe in them in theory, but in practice, I’m not too sure. You see, as a Libertarian, I think everyone has a right to do what they want as long as: 1.They do not hurt or infringe on the rights of others. 2. They don’t expect society to pay for the bad choices they’ve made.

All this brings me to the issue that has caused me to re-think things a little. Maine has legalized the sale of fireworks. I think it’s great. Like a lot of people, I thought it was not the government’s business to restrict the sale of fireworks in the first place. We use them on occasion and it is fun.

Here’s the downside of the issue: I thought that people would have the common sense to use the fireworks with consideration for those living around them. I was wrong. Too many use this newfound freedom with complete abandon and wanton disregard for those subjected to their constant blasts. It is still a law that after 10 p.m. fireworks are not legal to be used, but many are not adhering to it. Some folks must get up early to go to work or have other reasons why they find the constant barrage of fireworks annoying.

In order for Libertarianism to work, there must be a concern for the freedom of others. This fireworks issue has made me realize that too many people are inconsiderate and abuse their ‘rights’. It’s making me scratch my head and wonder if I’ve been wrong about the American people all this time. I still don’t want to be told what to do and I don’t plan to ram my thoughts down someone else’s throat. All I’m saying is: Think of how what you do affects others. Be considerate. Before you light the next fuse, try to keep it before 10 at night.

 

Details,Details

I believe in ideas, grand schemes, and big dreams.

Some say, “Don’t bog me down with details.”

I say, “Pay attention to details; the devil’s in them. That’s where he lives.”

Execution of a plan must include details and they’d better be done right. The best of grand schemes and big dreams die and fade into oblivion, if you fail in the little things. An idea is wonderful, but it takes hard work, discipline, and attention to details to see the idea through to fruition.

Something I see in today’s world is an inability to focus on the details. We love the idea, but the nuts and bolts of how to implement it cause our eyes to glaze over. I’m learning the hard way to snap out of it and pay attention. It is crucial.

I think we have become brainwashed and lulled to sleep by so much visual stimulation through television, movies, and video games that we no longer really see anything. If it’s not all done for us, we can’t deal with it. It’s a sad fact that we experience more active brain function when we sleep than when we watch TV. It’s easy to understand why. We at least dream during sleep. When staring mindlessly at the TV screen, we don’t have the need to think. It’s all prepared, pre-packaged, and ready for consumption.

Children, in particular, need to be taught attention to detail while they are young. Instilling in them the habit of taking ample time to fully look at something is important. Many children spend far too many hours sitting in front of one screen or another. I urge parents to limit screen time and in some cases to pull the plug on all of those devices. It won’t be easy. They may cry, scream, and carry on, but don’t give in to it. You will soon see the wisdom of the move. In a short period of time, you may even find yourself having a conversation with a child who was once a zombie. Find inventive ways to stimulate your child’s imagination. You’ll be glad you did.