
the window to my imagination is open
revealing an inquisitive mind
on the other side
a parade
a spectacle
wonders
fantasies
celebrations
exposed
for all to see
for those who
want to know me
***
the window to my imagination is open
revealing an inquisitive mind
on the other side
a parade
a spectacle
wonders
fantasies
celebrations
exposed
for all to see
for those who
want to know me
***
Like leaves falling off of trees with the advance of winter
my Dad’s memories are caught up in the winds of change
as he struggles to remember my name
I watch his eyes wander off to other times
back to the “good old days”
when he was young and viral
a proud Marine and father of three
he will always be
my hero
sometimes his eyes are clear and when he looks at me
I can see the man he use to be even though he’s ninety-three
sometimes suddenly he talks rationally
but those days are fading away
as I watch him every day
waiting for a miracle to come his way
I wait
and pray
***
He rocks back-and-forth on the rickety wicker porch chair. He’s everyman, late in life with wrinkles distorting a once smooth face, and body. His life wasn’t spent seeking redemption in real time. His subconsciousness never gave a hint of being interested in the subject.
Memories did sometimes rudely intrude upon his daily routine and reality. As a combat veteran he was intimately acquainted with death. The sight. The smell. The moment he fired at a human being. The horror.
But he just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.
He isn’t plagued with regrets on not being “saved” by any religion, or by being led to redemption like a sheep on the way to being sheared.
Freedom is his redemption for being alive and having survived many perilous times in his long life. His arthritis a badge of honor. His physical scars medals earned during a long life of adventures. His silver hair a crown of achievement.
He makes no claims of having redeemed others from sins and stupid moves in their lives. He never wanted to lead others to the top of any proverbial mountain. He’s unaware of ever being anyone’s leading light in life.
He just keeps on rocking in his wicker chair every day, a modern response to Old Man River who just kept rolling on.
the end
Focus inward if you will
to that inner voice
that whispers be still
listen
breath
inhale
exhale
be open
to what’s
spoken
from the
heart
murmers
in the mind
listen
breath
inhale
exhale
be still
and learn
to be kind
and expand
your mind
it’s always been there…
my flirtation
with a runaway imagination
a cozy affair unhindered by reality
everything I wanted it to be
worlds opened like oysters
in the fertile fields of my mind
mysteries solved uninhibited
access to a fantasy land
that does not sleep or confine
the affairs in my imagination
which are open for all to see
my ideas wander on the verge of reality
I know the end will come for me
soon enough my body will be free
to fly where my imagination
can’t currently see
I hated getting up in the morning when I was in school
giving up delicious dreams to attend classes wasn’t cool
when I was on my own and working nearly every day
dragging my body out of bed in the morning wasn’t child’s play
but
now that I’m retired and have no place I have to go
I wake up early to watch the sunrise’s beautiful tableau
left behind
a lifetime
of regrets
no more
senseless
moments
to answer
for
I’ve closed
that door
and cleaned
that slate
forevermore
in the dream there was an emerald glow
that enveloped me
as I walked
through the snow
seeking the mystery
that led me
into an unknown land
guided by the emerald glow
I sought answers from the gods
and wizards I didn’t know
my dream guiding me
into unknown country
where I walked on clouds
to see what I could see
it’s always exciting to me
when my emerald dreams
take me to new places to see
and I begrudge the long days
that are reality
waiting
patiently
for sleep
to envelope me
I knew an old lady who use to say
“Ain’t it grand?“
Every day
about subjects big and small
on local people
and the town hall
her positive attitude
on all subjects
earned everyone’s gratitude
and the local newspaper ran
her column about the community
and her love for this land
readers looked forward every week
to read about their town’s activities
that were so unique
alas!
all good things come to an end
but she’ll always be remembered
as a godsend
it hung in the light from a nearby window
a black and white portrait of an old man
with wise eyes and a flowing beard
he was an elder and he was revered
oh, the stories he could tell
if he hadn’t died and went to hell!
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