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Pondering.

First Day/ Last Day?

When I awoke this December morn,
I pondered on the year I was born.
Back then did I wonder, as I do now,
What Life would be like and how
It would end, when my days were done?

I sleep every night in honest belief,
That tomorrow I’ll awake with relief
From aged related aches and pains!
That I’ll still possess a few brains,
Though times I think they’ve run out!

Each awakening heralds the start
Of my remaining days. My heart
Though sound, may give out over night.
My morning thoughts may not be bright
But if alive? Doubtless I’ll be happy!

I wake: gingerly place feet upon the floor,
Then dress, and head out the bedroom door.
Firstly a bathroom visit – so essential!
Next my caffeine “fix” it’s quintessential,
If I’m to function efficiently another day.

Frequently I’ll check my pulse. If faint?
That’s great, but if none is felt? It ain’t
A good sign and I’ll get another evaluation
From my wife, as to my present situation?
Or carry on in my inimitable way,

And try to smile, so folks think I’m elated.
This precludes them thinking I’m belated,
Or even found moribund? As if they’d care!
Whereas a smiling face, says, I live, “So there!”
Saving a lot of tedious explanation.

When day is done, and I’ve survived,
Perhaps on occasion, even thrived,
I can face the future, but I must confess,
I’m saddened, for one more day, leaves less!
It’s my logical and considered evaluation,

I’ll enjoy the time that’s left for me.
It could be short, or seem an eternity,
But I’ll make the most of every day,
And fully enjoy Life in my own way.
To be worried about what might be,

Is of no concern to a fatalist like me.
Whatever happens was destined to be;
I’ll live each day as though it is my last!
The future may be unsure but the past
Was enjoyed, and really good to me!

If tomorrow is the beginning of my end;
I’m given opportunity on how to spend
My last days? Some might think it strange,
But there’s little I would want to change,
For my lengthy Life has been lots of fun.

But should I not make it through the night,
And not see tomorrow’s dawning light?
Then there’ll be no complaint from me,
Despite it having been, the last day I will see,
For tis only then, I’ll know my life is done.

Rhymer.

My Quiet Place.

My Quiet Place.

I oft take me to a quiet place, and there will sit me down,
To search for peace and solace, and enjoy the beauty found.
Once there, I consider how best to use the talent I possess,
Which sometimes proves a burden and, this I must confess,
Behoves me to restore my muse, in this quiet, placid way;
Where Nature works her magic, when inspiration is held at bay.

Should words come not readily, though a purpose would be filled,
She soothes my tardy passion, until angst and frustration are stilled.
With the peace I find within this place, it is my firm held belief,
That quiet contemplation always works to bring inspired relief.
So for times when intent is thwarted, and a cure desperately needed
The stimulus this meditation brings, is always found and heeded.

Rhymer.

In Warren Wood there stands a special tree
A Beech that for long has meant a lot to me
For carved in its ancient bark, that all can see,
Are the entwined initials of my wife and me.
Fifty years have passed since it was first done;
With vows exchanged, we pledged to live as one.
A promise that two Lovers did with one accord,
Consider a most fitting, sacred moment to record.
Though scars have long healed, passing glances
Show that although the years and age advances,
Initials carved upon the trunk, that fateful day,
Remain a token of the Love we pledged that day.

Rhymer

A Thin Band of Gold.

Poignant are the memories which are now told
By a frail little Lady, now growing old.
As she softly speaks, on her finger she’ll hold
Her greatest treasure. A thin Band of Gold!

At first, life was harsh, and her face betrays
That sorrow. But she knew happier days.
Times when she received Love’s bouquets!
Flowers with a message, to lighten her days.

Lost in reverie, her mind often returns,
To that Love. Wistfully, her heart yearns
For him! Though friends have no concerns.
For deep inside, a candle ever burns.

It was not lit for he, who offered his name:
Gave his word they would wed; but to his shame
Left her waiting at the church, and never came!
She was nothing to him. Just a passing game!

But lit for he, who became her beau!
In whose arms, she found Love seeds to sow.
Tenderly nurtured, they would then grow
And flourish, with impassioned glow!

Their wedding took place in mid-August.
Pledged with a Band of Gold. – Simple, unfussed.
Her chosen man was thoughtful, kind and just!
Not once, would she ever betray his trust!

Year followed year. Days were a total bliss.
Though sad was the day if she was remiss,
To start his day with a loving kiss!
He’d worry all day! What could be amiss?

But Life’s blackest day was when he died.
Her heart broken! Bitter tears she cried!
But Time tempered the anguish inside,
She found courage, patience and pride.

Secure in the Love of those she holds dear,
Her days are complete, when they are near.
But as her family gathers close to hear
Her life’s story. She often sheds a silent tear!

As her eyes grow dim, for she is old
The years weary her. Tired bones grow cold.
Hands which knew hardships,- better left untold,
Lovingly caress her thin Band of Gold!

Rhymer.

Winter Villanella.

Overnight the snows fell:
Sometimes heavy, sometimes light,
Drifting o’er hill and dell.

Winds herald a colder spell,
Dawn, a sparkling sight.
Overnight the snows fell.

Clear chimes from a distant bell,
Signals more arrives tonight,
Drifting o’er hill and dell.

Silence reigns, that bodes well,
The moon, in muted flight.
Overnight the snows fell.

Winter’s here, as signs tell,
Snow dervishes delight,
Drifting o’er hill and dell.

Older folks stay where they dwell,
By their fireside, warm and bright.
Overnight the snows fell
Drifting o’er hill and dell.

Rhymer. January 16th, 2011.

My last Blog – September 2010 – is long forgotten and as my avowed intent was to add further commentary, fell by the wayside, it being Sunday 20th March 2011, I am well prepared to welcome the spring equinox, which arrives later. To add a few explanations. Spring could not be more welcome and timely, for it has been a brutal winter in more ways than one.

Firstly of course, winter weather has been a cold, snowy up-and-down progression of storms. We experienced – wouldn’t say enjoyed – a couple of short thaws when snows turned to slush and rains added even more misery to our daily lives, before plummetting temperatures turned the sloppy slush, into rigid sculptures of ice, more reminiscent of those found in the Arctic wastes than Southern Ontario. Roads became dangerously hazardous, for even the simple chore of walking the dog. On occasion this was more challenging than making an attempt upon Mount Everest. Cleats on our boots, became the norm for without? Walking would have been extremely dangerous and almost impossible. Although there were times when it was regarded as hilarious to see Scamp, our ageing Cairn Terrier, slipping on ice and snow – and him with four feet nonetheless – we had a great deal of sympathy for his inability to walk safely.

But the more apposite and troublesome part of this past winter, has been the sequence of health events that one hopes never to experience at any time of the year, but finds even more difficult to tolerate when days are continuing cold and dull. Insidiously the non-stop succession of events, can and does whittle away one’s resistance and for myself, the dreaded S.A.D. syndrome begins to intrude, adding further to the woes and myseries of winter. Fortunately, some progress in the stemming and overcoming of its effects have been made, and I for one, have proven this for myself, this past three months. By the purchase of a “Day-Light” contrivance and its use, I have stayed the worst effects of S.A.D. and hope with spring returning, to return to receiving my daily dose of needed sunshine. I honestly recommend to all, or any who suffer from this form of winter deprivation, to seriously consider buying such a device. For myself, it has made life tolerable and far more uplifting than that enjoyed for more winters than I care to remember.

Finally, at least this is my hope, a series of small but debilitating accidents, took their toll and was something I wished to have avoided. For more than a year, my health has been in a low state of affairs since I was stricken with a bout of pneumonia in late 2009. After being misdiagnosed, which delayed my recovery, my elan for living stood at its lowest level ever. Later, both my wife and I contracted another outbreak of shingles. This was the third such outbreak in five years, but added to the irritating effects of this disease, came an attack of Meniere’s Disease for me! Vertigo being its most obvious, primary effect is one that, believe you me, is not to be treated as some light, passing inconvenience. Fortunately there is a drug (SERC) that helps one so stricken, that controls its worst effects. Once my Meniere’s was diagnosed, and the drug prescribed, the vertigo attacks were, to all intents and purposes, no longer a primary factor, but not before depression began to exert its presence with strength! I am convinced, that had it not been for the constant love and close attention of my wife, I would have sunk further and perrhaps reached a dangerous level.

But depression slowly began to lift, and with her constant love and support, I eventually began to see the light at the end of the very long and dark tunnel. Although there were corners and obstacles still lurking unseen, with her support and understanding, I have safely negotiated my way through. This journey was made all the more difficult and slower than expected as inclement weather conditions – for the summer of 2010 was the wettest on record – kept me from following and enjoying the ever healing therapy of garden work. This therapy has always stood me in good stead before, and is one found to be the perfect tonic to cure most of my ills. Especially those affecting my mental well being. But the summer was survived and daily, despite my lack of physical activity in the garden, there was improvement in my life. It did in turn, allow me to employ time normally spent in the garden when conditions are favourable, to return to writing more poetry. Writing poetry is a therapy in itself, as I have found, for one can distance themselves from the worries of the day, be they real or imagined, and become lost in the tranquillity of a poetic moment. As I slowly emerged from my depression, my poems became more upbeat and positive. Certainly obvious when compared with those written at the time of my lowest self esteem.

It would seem however, that my recovery was not to be without more set-backs. This time though, it was not myself that suffered, but my wife. The steadfast and unflappable rock upon which I have relied so heavily this past months, suffered a heavy blow to her right temple a little over two weeks ago. Nothing more than an accident which happened in a moment of distraction, it has nonetheless, long lasting consequences which are only now, beginning to lessen.

A light concussion was the diagnosis, but it was and remains, a slow recuperation for her. With days when all seemed to be returning to normal, there have been days when I in panic, have rushed her to the Emergency Room at the local hospital, when symptoms were such as to concern me greatly. Only after hours of waiting, with no scans or x-rays taken, were we told that ‘time’ is the only healing available. After seeing how long the recuperation time is for athletes who, one presumes are in far fitter shape than such as ourselves – senior citizens with a yen for sitting rather than chasing a ball or hockey puck – one is forced to accept the recommendations of doctors who, despite their being as conscientious as they intend, have a work load that overwhelms even the most stalwart. As most Emergency Doctors appear to be Locum Tenens gaining experience in the everyday world, one cannot help but sympathise and understand their inability to add much ‘bedside manner’ to their repertoire, whilst having some reservations as to their capability! I doubt many of us can truly understand the stress they accept on a daily basis, either.

So today, with some trepidation ever present, for one does not lightly dismiss any signs of possible further repercussions, howsoever they might occur, I look forward to a enjoying a substantial improvement in our lives, being determined the spring equinox will mark a change for the better, and the search for that, ever so important, ‘correct’ word, to use in a poem, is the worst it gets!

Ever optimistic. Rhymer.

Love Lies – Bleeding?

I’m tired of reading poems and prose,
Penned by those who write to disclose
Their one true love, decamped overnight.
Broken hearted, bemoaning their plight,
Bitter words flow from their acerbic pen,
With vows not to trust love, ever again,
Failing to understand, their lack of charms,
Drove their lover to seek comforting arms.

Being innocent and trustingly naive,
They suffer terrible loss, as they grieve.
Having no warnings love would fly away
Being sadly bereft, now have their say.
Feckle and faithless love leaves them grieving,
With no indication their love was deceiving.
Crushed beyond belief – for a day or two at least,
They see their ex-love as a monstrous beast!

They took love for granted, unstintingly given,
Now their verses, hint their soul is riven
By the trust they lost, and they are desolate:
Life is not worth living, in their nervous state.
With reams of trite verse, describing their pain,
They wonder if, they’ll ever fall in love again?
Truth is, tis naught but their delight of misery,
With which to burden readers, like you and me.

True love was found? Unrequited? A cursed dream!
A thousand poems written daily embrace this theme.
Cynics such as I, have heard it many times before;
Truthfully, once is enough, I want no more!
So you’re hurting bad: love cast you aside.
So what? Don’t bore me again, leave or hide,
I’m tired of hackneyed lines, constantly repeated.
Get on with life, seems you’re easily defeated!

Go find another, take a positive spin,
Get over what’s lost, face life with a grin”
You’re far better off to accept your fate:
The world is yours, move on ere it’s too late!
Look around and find one who, same as you
Has been injured by a love thought true.
You’ll be well suited, with your broken hearts,
Writing laments in verse, on tragic departs!

It seems many today are obsessed,
By the loss of the love they’d possessed.
That’s their cry till all too soon, someone new
Steals their heart, when they’ll proclaim anew,
Their love is sincere! Of this there’s no doubt,
Until again they are once more, without!
Losing a lover is not an indictable crime,
But a human trait, that happens all the time!

Rhymer. March 11th, 2011.

Transient Dreams

Transient Dreams

I sleep, I dream, but momentarily away,
Are those fleeting images I wish to stay.
Nightly visits on which I set great store,
Are glimpses from happier times before.
Returning swiftly to whence they came,
On my awakening, I can recall no name.
These favoured familiars of times past,
Are but briefly enjoyed, for they fade fast!
Though I seek to know to where I’ve been,
I can recall but little of the fleeting scene.
Oh that I, emerging from the depths of sleep,
Could grasp my transient dream to keep.

Rhymer. March 12th, 2011.

Where do the days go? An all too frequently asked question, which seems to possess no logical answer! Time being a dimension that possesses nothing tangible: with nothing that can be grasped within our hands, and is considered fleeting at best! Little more than an abstract, man made convenience without substance, and yet, without we accept its existence, where we would be? How would we ever get through our daily routines? By what else could we measure our lives? Without time, chaos would rule the world as we know it today. For intangible or not, it plays such an important part in our lives, that we must, and do live and regulate our lives – certainly most of our waking hours – by its rules and tenets!

Whether we accept, recognise or plan our lives around the intangibility we call Time, when we are immersed in activities that require our total concentration, we tend to lose consciousness of its passing. This because we are so fully immersed in our activities, that our senses no longer (subconsciously) track the minutes and hours, and only when the hour becomes late, or our physical needs become more insistent – food, drink or whatever – are we surprised and cognisant of its passing! Then we find ourselves at a loss as to where time, as we call it, has gone? Those plans we so carefully detailed and laid out, possess no validity, and we find ourselves nonplussed and bemused. At times, this can be a blessing: at others? We become angered at ourselves, for allowing the minutes and hours to fly by, out of our consciousness which, in turn, compels us to redraft our plans.

All this preamble about time, is little more than a useful ploy, on my part, to excuse my recent lack of attention to my Blog. For me, despite various set backs, the year has flown by so quickly, although I can and will vehemently argue how slow it passes – at certain times! This most likely, when we I am bored or without incentive to ‘stir’ the proverbial literary pot, and excite response(s) from fellow Bloggers!

I often wonder how a Blog fares when there are no “takers?” A common enough happening, if my own Blog is any indication? Despite the odd, reply or ‘comment’ as the hosting site prefers to call it, without there is valued input from those who read what I post, and are then willing to add their own perspective to a posting, there can be little or no future to continuing on with such an exercise. Input from outside sources, is both invaluable and essential if it is to be seen a healthy and worthy exercise. Be it nothing more than confirmation of one’s views or, as one expects, argument in opposition. Without this activity, then the whole undertaking, is doomed to failure. One sees this all too often with Forums, which begin their existence, with a flurry of activity, only to see comments and opinions peter out, or conversely, become so boringly desultory or petty, that members no longer bother to add commentary.

Along with this problem, personal likes and dislikes, creep in, until one witnesses an angry outburst in confrontation with another member, as a clash of personalities manifests itself. Rancour and accusations fly back and forth, as more and more members take sides, in what at first, to rational people, is seen as nothing more than a trivial comment. Of course, there are those that delight in causing confusion and mayhem, but these are, by the more rational members, seen as trouble makers, and their comments, no matter how virulent or antagonistic, are largely ignored! Surely, it is foolish to pursue idiotic arguments, purely for the purpose of perpetuating ignorance and intolerance? One advantage of hosting a Blog, is that one can control what is or is not allowed to be posted.

So ends another observation of mine. I am hopeful of being able to generate some commentary and/or, restablishing contact, with the other few that choose to drop in at times.

May the upcoming Fall or Autumnal Season, be less stressful and more pelasant, than the Summer has been seen and experienced here in Southern Ontario. A mixed bag of weather with effects that suit few of us. Rhymer.

A Passionate Encounter.
Or
An Overnight Romance.

We met by chance in a shopping mall,
Could see you were “special,” the best of all.
I made my advances, which rang your bell,
That you liked me too, was easy to tell.

I said but little, as we walked round and about,
So took you home, for I had nary a doubt,
That you were ideal for an intimate tete a tete,
Being totally convinced our meeting was fate.

I sat on the couch, with you snuggled up tight,
That my arms now held you, seemed so right.
When it grew late, I suggested we share a bed:
With no objection from you, we went ahead.

I laid you down gently, holding you tightly,
And this passionate moment, seemed rightly,
One we should follow, for we thought it okay!
So every night, I cuddle up to my new duvet!

Rhymer. April 13th, 2010.

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