HERE TODAY, GONE TOMOROW


EVANESCENT

Over periods of time people have taken their told,
Some in search for gold,
Some because they were bold,
Some for reasons that were never told.
A large lake, fed by large rivers in the San Joaquin,
Was the lifegiving force for thousands of years
To Indian tribes, trappers, and explorers.
Over one thousand square miles,
The largest fresh water lake west of the Mississippi River,
A large fishing industry, the land of giant beaver and otters,
A lake that took three days for a schooner to cross,
In a very short time, became evanescent,
Forgotten by all who used to admire.
Along with the native tribes, the gold rush turned the heads
Of miners, then vast farms that appeared and went, farmers
Spent the water reserves.
Today the great desert waits for a drink but its throat remains parched.

May 24, 2017

Truth and I


walking together
walking together (Photo credit: Leonard John Matthews)

 

Truth and I

 

 

 

“Truth,” said I, “let’s spend the day,

 

Walking together wherever we may.”

 

 

 

“Are you sure,” she asked, “You want to be with me?

 

For I go places you’ll never be.”

 

 

 

“Truth, you’re beautiful,” I vehemently claimed.

 

“Throughout the day you’re always the same.”

 

 

 

I thought I could sway her with flattery and flowers,

 

But she remained unchanged despite my powers.

 

 

 

She said, “You don’t understand my heart or my mind.

 

I’m out in the open but hard to find.”

 

 

 

She said, “I have many faces and I’m rarely the same.

 

I can be rampaging or be quiet and tame.”

 

 

I believed in one Truth so I laughed out loud.

 

I ignored the levels of Truth because I was proud,

 

 

 

Truth stood before me stark naked and plain,

 

If I embraced her, would she be as cleansing as rain?

 

 

 

“I love you, Truth, I won’t be denied,”

 

But I exaggerated a lot, and, of course, I lied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are We There Yet?


Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, by Viktor Vasnets...
Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, by Viktor Vasnetsov. Painted in 1887. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Are We There Yet?

 

I often heard my children ask, “Are we there yet?”

 

On a trip we had just begun,

 

That was their way of saying,

 

They weren’t having any fun.

 

 

 

When I consider we’re all kids,

 

Traveling the same kind of road,

 

“Are we there yet?” means to me,

 

Someone is tired of his load.

 

 

 

We live in a smug cruel world,

 

Where we claim everything is under control,

 

But it’s time we search our hearts and ask,

 

Have we really reached our goals?

 

 

 

We haven’t found the ways to peace,

 

Though we tried with flowers in our hair,

 

Even SGT. Pepper could not stop the wars,

 

Even though we tried to care.

 

 

 

A white horse appeared on a cloud,

 

Its rider clutched a bow,

 

Representing conquest and a destructive force,

 

Sending peace reeling with a mighty blow.

 

 

 

Famine spreads across the land,

 

While food supplies dwindle down,

 

Animals and people fight to live,

 

But little grows on bloody parched ground.

 

 

 

A black horse stepping high,

 

With weighing scales at his side,

 

Famine strikes fear in all hearts,

 

While hope disappears worldwide.

 

 

 

A fiery horse gallops with color aglow,

 

Mass slaughter is his game,

 

His rider lets persecution and pain go free,

 

War is still the one to blame.

 

 

 

Pestilence still sweeps the world,

 

While we turn our heads in vain,

 

Trying to ignore terrible diseases,

 

That keep third world children in pain.

 

 

 

Death still stalks each of us,

 

We won’t leave this world alive,

 

But couldn’t we try to slow death down,

 

Allowing us a few more years to thrive.

 

 

 

Astride a pale horse with sunken eyes,

 

The Grim Reaper wears a grin,

 

He scans the earth looking for those,

 

Who have already died within.

 

 

 

Are we there yet?

 

It’s a question we should ask,

 

Have we done all we can possibly do,

 

Before we give up our chosen task?

 

 

 

The Four Horsemen continue to ride,

 

Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death,

 

With sword and gun they sweep the land,

 

And steal each feeble breath.

 

 

 

Are we there yet?

 

The question echoes on,

 

We can’t stop to boast or reset,

 

Until the battles are won.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s Unique!


 

1805-courtship-caricature
1805-courtship-caricature (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

She’s unique in every aspect,

 

She stands out in any crowd,

 

I can’t find words to describe her,

 

Except she makes me proud,

 

 

 

She’s a patriot to our country,

 

A mother to our child,

 

She’s the heart of our family,

 

A friend who drives me wild,

 

 

 

Love bubbles over in conversation,

 

There are sparkles in her eyes,

 

Things she does and things she says,

 

Always catch me by surprise,

 

 

 

Why do I think she’s special?

 

I love her more each day,

 

She always treats me like a king,

 

She’s a queen in every way,

 

 

 

How is she different from the others?

 

Why did I ask her to change her name?

 

I’ve always found her intriguing,

 

And it’s clear she loves me the same.

 

 

 

She Went Her Way


Annie & Susan Sorting Paintings
Annie & Susan Sorting Paintings (Photo credit: mygothlaundry)

There were a lot of harsh words,

We said to each other back then,

I hadn’t heard a woman speak like that,

Since I don’t remember when,

 

We tried to correct our bad deeds,

The ones we’d done to hurt each other,

We discovered our efforts didn’t work,

When we couldn’t forgive one another,

 

She went her way and I went mine,

When the war was over and all was done,

Two hard-headed, stubborn individuals,

Had lost too much and no victories won,

 

If I had treated her like a queen,

She’d still be by my side,

But that’s just between you and me,

That’s all to you I’ll confide,

 

She went her way and i went mine,

I was sorry to see her go,

My pride kept me from telling her,

So I guess she’ll never know,

 

As she went down that dusty road,

Along with her she took my heart,

I live here and she lives there,

And we’re still worlds apart.

 

 

The Battle Begins


Angel 013
Angel 013 (Photo credit: Juliett-Foxtrott)

Red angel wings were spread before me,

As far as I could see,

They were as red as sacred blood,

In an instant I understood,

What they were preparing for,

As they waited, score by score,

With talons sharpened and eyes of fire,

This hardened group would fight and never tire,

If I asked about the enemy they would grin,

For the enemy they fought took the war within,

From the east a small light glowed,

And as I watched it began to grow,

Angels with wings of pearly white,

Gathered the surrounding wisps of light,

I could feel the resulting vibrations of power,

And guessed the battle would begin this hour,

The chief red angel had a snarl on her lips,

And kept a few weapons at her fingertips,

Today the battle would decide my fate,

I pull my cloak tightly about me, it is getting late.

Trust and Hope


Unreleased Bitterness
Image via Wikipedia

When silence crept into the conversation,

She saw bitterness in his eyes,

When the truths she had claimed about herself,

Turned out to be just lies,

That’s when two broken people,

Decided to put their former lives behind,

And began building bridges made of trust and hope,

Choosing together to have a love that binds.

In a Bad Mood


British nurse in nurses' station.
Image via Wikipedia

“You have a hernia,”

My doctor declared.

“You’re going to have problems,

If you don’t have it repaired.”

On Friday the thirteenth,

My surgery was set.

“Be at the hospital at six.”

It was written so I didn’t forget.

I made arrangements with a neighbor,

To get me there at six precise.

But that early in the morning,

She’d have to sacrifice.

True to her word she was on time,

Though the morning was icy and cold.

“You don’t have to pick me up later.

I have a ride home,” she was told.

Checking in was real easy.

My paperwork was already done.

Yet I was a little tense already.

The thirteenth had just begun.

I got my instructions and undressed.

And slipped on my hospital gown.

It was tied securely but still drafty.

There was no back to be found.

An early shift nurse placed my clothes.

In a bag and in my backpack.

Out of sight, out of mind,

In a locker they were stacked.

Afterwards while I recovered,

I wanted to know when I could leave.

If it was going to be soon,

I wanted my clothes to retrieve.

According to my nurse,

I was recovering very well.

I could leave if I continued progressing,

But only time could really tell.

If the pain had lessened,

And I could finally urinate,

The surgeon said it would be okay,

For the nurse to release me late.

After much discussion,

A nurse said my clothes were found.

It wouldn’t be long before I was gone,

And I’d be homeward bound.

My thoughts were on my friend,

Who had driven from work afar.

She must be cold and anxious,

And tired of waiting in her car.

I passed nurses looking for someone.

That was my humble conclusion.

“Which way did he go?” one nurse asked.

“Over here,” I heard in all the confusion.

I followed, trying to stay out of the way,

But I lost them when I stopped to pee.

The nurses were hunting for someone.

I didn’t realize they were searching for me.

Strange things were definitely going on.

I heard them calling for “Dan”.

“What a coincidence,” I thought.

“I’ll help them if I can.”

Through the halls I wandered.

I was hot on Dan’s trail.

But the nurses couldn’t catch him,

And I was also destined to fail.

However, it was Friday the 13th,

And a full moon rose to boot.

I forgot about the fugitive,

Because it was time to scoot.

Disheveled and carrying my backpack,

A large bloody spot on my shirt,

I saw no one around to question,

Sir, are you badly hurt?”

My friend eyed me suspiciously,

When I climbed in and asked to go.

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving?

I think they would want to know.”

“Where’s your nurse and your wheelchair?

I’m sure a release you’ll need.

I think they’ll all be concerned,

If the checkout rules you didn’t heed.”

My friend called the nurse in charge,

Trying to make things right.

In a short while the nurse arrived.

She said, “It’s been a long, tiring night.”

My friend helped the nurse whisk me inside,

So I could be officially checked out.

They both seemed a little peeved,

With the full moon out and about.

I said, “It’s been fun.”

And I tried not to sound rude,

Even though Friday the 13th,

Put my nurses in a bad mood.

We Built a House


English: Front and western side of The Farm Ho...
Image via Wikipedia

We built a house out of silence and words,

With deep conversations we built the foundation,

Sweet honeyed words that oozed and dripped,

Hardened into concrete passion and love,

Kept level for a time as we patched the cracks,

We let down our guard as the foundation settled,

That was our first mistake,

With polite greetings we built the walls,

Used small talk as we went about our tasks,

In the walls silences became trapped and used for insulation,

Keeping uncomfortable spaces between us,

We talked with our eyes without sharing our thoughts,

That was our second mistake,

With angry words we raised the roof,

We built rafters with the appearance of strength,

But empty and unlivable to those inside,

We chose barbed shingles in an overlapping pattern,

Beautiful to behold but they caught and tore the heart,

We lived in this house and never made repairs,

That was our third mistake,

If we had built our house with realistic expectations,

Knowing that marriage either grows or weakens,

We could have given it the attention it needed,

Sharing our dreams and goals as we stayed best friends,

Making additions, repairs and strengthening the foundation,

But we didn’t,

We built our house on hopes and dreams,

Thinking that the other’s faults would change,

Rather than learning unconditional love and acceptance,

Our house was built on the sand of our own vanities,

And when the storms came, and they always do,

The storms were stronger than a house of words,

And the only thing left is the silence.

 

 

 

“Sweaty and Dirty”


A German nurse in 2005.
Image via Wikipedia

Forgiveness is a Positive Virtue

She was trembling as she stood facing me,

Was there something she wanted to see?

Her hands were pressed against her chest,

Then I noticed she was cupping her breasts,

It was difficult for her to hide her fright,

Her small voice quavered ever so slight,

When she asked, “Are my breasts too small?”

She was exposing thoughts, fears, her very all,

She had pulchritude, talent, and intelligence,

Everything I thought was of the essence,

Her eyes searched mine hoping to find,

That I had forgiven her and made up my mind,

If I loved her, she needed desperately to know,

The question she posed was far different though,

I thought back three months to when we met,

The circumstances were very hard to forget,

I had been downsized with an economy shift,

Turned loose in the jobless current to drift,

Overqualified,” they would say to me,

“That’s just the way it’s got to be,”

That was the response I got from several firms,

Saying I had a doctorate opened a can of worms,

I needed work to keep paying my bills,

I finally found work by deemphasizing my skills,

A hospital laundry kept me from going deeper in debt,

And I tried to remain cheerful with no regrets,

Yes, I remember the day we first met,

My shirt was dirty and I was soaked with sweat,

I expected to be alone while I ate lunch,

Usually treated like a pariah by the hospital bunch,

Smokers gravitated to me because I was dirty anyway,

But I sprayed a can of freshener as two smokers puffed away,

“What are you doing?” one howled in dismay,

“You’ve ruined our air and now you’re going to pay!”

I moved to another table to avoid further trouble,

That’s when two nurses arrived bringing trouble double,

The cutest nurse spoke up quickly, she didn’t hesitate,

“That was brave what you did. I think that was just great!”

The other nurse nudged her forward, “Hurry up, we’re late,”

The cute one said, “Would you go to a party?  I need a date.”

“I’m just a laundry worker,” I quietly said,

“Why don’t you ask one of the doctors instead?”

Tears dripped from those bewitching eyes,

At first I didn’t believe she could tell me lies,

“Yes, I’ll be honored to go with you,”

Why she had asked me I had no clue,

But a hospital nurse of stature and style,

Had stayed and talked with me awhile,

There had to be a reason behind her smile,

Was there something about me that she reviled?

Or maybe it was just a set up for a cruel prank,

I couldn’t think of anything positive, I was drawing a blank,

In spite of my misgivings, I knew it was only a date,

If I continued to be positive I would determine my own fate,

I told myself I was just curious, I knew I didn’t really rate,

But I had forgotten about my albatross, my gullible trait,

(to be continued)

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