This One Idea

Do good things come to those who wait?
Or do they waste their days
And months and years in wishing
For the slightest of displays

That what they hope for might come true?
It’s hard to make a rule —
That one could then encapsulate
To teach at home or school.

But this — this one idea I have
And you helped me to birth it —
I waited all my life for you
And wow
It sure
Was worth it


Inspired by this prompt.

 

(“This One Idea” – 11-16-2014)

Wayward

“I’m sorry,” – I heard that,
But then the rest was hard to hear –
“I should have told you months ago,” –
And my mind raced with fear

“Bye,” her sad voice said,
And then the voicemail ended there
To leave me hanging on
And questioning exactly where

My stepdaughter was now,
And what had happened, knowing she
Had once again resurfaced
From her life of misery

Her drug addiction demons
Having driven her away
And us not knowing where she was
From day to fear-filled day

And now this message. Broken-hearted,
Aching for my girl
Who, cast away, unhappy
Languished somewhere in the world

When softly, gently I heard knocking
On my study door
And opened it to find her there,
Much as she was before

As she threw arms around me,
And as many tears were shed

“I’m home now, daddy,”

“Welcome back.”

Like my heart –

From
The
Dead


 

(“Wayward” – 11-9-2014)

Generations

“No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow them.”

Part 1

Cruel laughter rings
Around a five-year-old boy

Look at the little baby!
He carries a teddy bear!

And tears appear in the eyes
Of the young, confused boy

And the toy bear

Part 2

She was a lithesome seventeeen
Wanting to leave girlhood behind;
He was so handsome, quiet, forceful
He filled her soul, her heart, her mind

Giving herself to adult pleasure
Finding too late the price of lust;
Violence breaking out in ruin
Having a baby, broken trust

Young single mom setting up a nursery
Worn teddy bear for the baby’s bed;
The only gift that his father left him
So many things must stay
Unsaid

Part 3

His mother died when he was only six
He had no father that he’d ever known
He set off with his grandmother to live
Some other place, with everything unknown

His only friend, a tattered sewn-up toy
The house smelled funny, all his tears were spent;
He hugged his only friend up to face
Just trying to recall
His mother’s scent

(..)

No Talent For Certainty

My blog is named for a movie quote
From “Mansfield Park” —
It’s not in the book —

Some people know what looks best
With a certainty

But I don’t

Some people are sure what they’re doing
Is right

But I’m not

Some people can see the patterns in their past
Leading to some greater tomorrow
And that might be true for me
But I’m not sure

I have preferences
I make choices
I believe in, and hope for, tomorrow

But I have no talent
For certainty


 

(“No Talent For Certainty” – 2-9-2015)

To Change My Life…?

What seemed right and what felt right
Pulled in two quite different ways;
I drove into the desert ‘neath
The unforgiving rays

My heart, it wanted change, to get
A new life, a new start;
My mind said, “Everything is fine.
Don’t listen to your heart.”

For life’s responsibilities
Had greatly weighed me down;
The desert spoke of dying things
Of ghost lives, and ghost towns —

I drove for the entire day
And as the sun was setting
Decided I should stay the course
And that I’d been forgetting

What my life had been like before.
Once home, as I undressed,
I kissed my sleeping wife
And settled down to take some rest.

My instincts haven’t always
Been the greatest friend to me:
For if I listened, I’d have lost
All my reasons
To be
 


 

(“To Change My Life…?” – 12-16-2014)

Who’ll Tell?

Who’ll tell the story of my life?
Who’ll bring it to some harmony?
Weaving the senseless tangled threads
Into a pattern all can see?

Born in a place invisible
Like every boy, some mother’s prince:
Sent off the rails by adolescence
Hasn’t recovered since

Who’ll put in words what I can’t say?
Who’ll make it all seem relevant?
Find celebration in a party
That’s never had a celebrant?

Sick and alone with hopes in ashes
Bottle of pills to ease the pain;
Finding a path to wet redemption
Clambering through the rain

Horatio Alger’s rags to riches?
Will that, one day, be my history?
Or, a life written by Thomas Hardy?
I don’t know now
We’ll just wait
And see
 


Photo credit: © Inarik | Dreamstime.comChild Looking Through Fence Photo

 

(“Who’ll Tell?” – 3-23-2015)

The Introversive Way

A brief primer on introverts, for you extroverts out there.

The extrovert, whose daily life
Seems naught but dull routine
Will seek adventure when they can
Amidst a crowded scene

For people give them energy
That work just drains away:
And so they need excitement
When they get a holiday

But me, I am an introvert
And people make me tired;
It’s not that I don’t like them
It is just the way I’m wired

So when I get a holiday
From busy working life
I will go someplace peaceful
By myself, or with my wife

For yes — I do like travelling
But don’t like hue-and-cry:
I like to sit and watch the world
Just watch it
Going by

 

(Inspired by this prompt.)