Wonderment (continued)

AAU 79 crpd

Author’s note: Because this had tones of a romantic walk, I had to go on with it. My roommate freshman year of college was one of my greatest friends. Though we came from different towns, we’d been friends since we were twelve, a rarity among foes at the time. That was due to our participation on AAU teams, and our coaches who had the wisdom to bring us together. Link to You Gotta Believe on home page.  Thanks for reading, A.S.

 

REMINDED of a white surprise so long ago,

Inches and inches of insulation — and isolation.

So beautiful, so unexpected, so tranquil, we just had to be a part,

Before it was invaded.

In the earliest winter light, a whole city in sight,

And yet, just quiet. So noticeably quiet.

Soft crunch underfoot, breathing, no wind,

A little laughter of appreciation.

Wonderment.

Capitol dome, the Kanawha, the future, my fall,

Equally inactive — and uninvolved.

As if the whole world stopped – unresolved.

So many mysteries yet unsolved.

We’d fought battles as foes.

We’d fought battles as friends.

We’d fought battles as teammates with victorious ends,

Though I’d miss the last one hundred twenty five.

I’d been to the funeral parlor for you,

You’d sat by my hospital bed,

Just before the first battle I missed.

This time the next year, I’d be gone.

Three times struck, no leg to stand on.

With nary a goodbye.

Soon to be

Out of control, lost, struggling, searching,

Wonder what it all meant.

© 2016

 

Wonderment

REMINDED of a white surprise so long ago,

Inches and inches of insulation — and isolation.

So beautiful, so unexpected, so tranquil, we just had to be a part,

Before it was invaded.

In the earliest winter light, a whole city in sight,

And yet, just quiet. So noticeably quiet…

Soft crunch underfoot, breathing, no wind,

A little laughter of appreciation.

Wonderment.

Capitol dome, the Kanawha, the future, my fall,

Equally inactive — and uninvolved.

As if the whole world stopped – unresolved.

 

© 2016

Aftermath Stew

Author’s note: The Lost Lantern, my second novel, will be available SOON on Amazon.com, through kindle direct publishing. The first, The Long Shadow Of Hope, under contract, just waiting, and waiting, and waiting. This is what I’ve been feeling the last 48 hours. Thanks for reading! A.S.

 

TYING loose ends before its launch,

A slippery, dangerous game.

Mind going twelve ways all at once,

Emotions at least half the same.

Pull hard, play dirty, suffer with worry,

Seems to be what they say.

Suffocate, palpitate,

Acid here to stay.

Tighten the noose, wind the clock,

Cause sand is slipping through.

Quit weighing the middle, beginning, and end,

Get this far behind you.

It was supposed to be fun, a journey to,

The pages of my mind.

If the content could touch this aftermath stew,

The reviews would read just fine.

© 2016

Wonder What Gramps Would Say

Gramps  bw g kids (2) Author’s note: A song, in the works for the last week, or a poem. That’s my grandfather, Roy Hall, who died on Mother’s Day,  May 13, 1967,  following a heart attack. (He’d had open heart surgery in ’61).  Also pictured (l to r) my sister Kelly, cousin Sheila, and me, probably two years old, on his lap (dog is Brownie). Happy times. The song may still undergo modifications, the memories though are set. Thanks for reading, A.S.

GRAMPS went Home early, due to no fault of his own. Three daughters, a wife, and eight grandkids, cherished memories, just not enough.

He saved a poor man’s last treasure, with a pool cue in his hand. Loved his hounds on the hunt, his line gettin’ sunk, and Cleveland, with tough ol’ Jim Brown. 

He’d roll a piece of sweet Teaberry, for each child on his lap. Say “Open up like a little birdie,” drop’em in, and have a grand ol’ laugh.

I remember Grandma rubbing, his tired ol’ aching back. Just a sleepy boy of three, but I could see, the love of the woman. 

Chorus: I wonder what Gramps would say about this world. Would he shrug it off, or load up his gun. Would he turn his back to the struggles and misfortune. Or would he circle the wagons for the family, he would love?

Bridge: His three begot eight, eight begot 18, and they’re scattered to the wind. Could he reign them tightly in, shake some sense in them, teach them honor?

Or is the notion just a memory, has the bloodline gone astray, is a cousin best a stranger, not a brother?

Chorus: I wonder what Gramps would say about our world. Would he lock his doors and load up his gun. Would he turn his back to the vices and abuses. Or would he circle the wagons for the family, he would love?

Gramps went Home early, those smokes they didn’t kill. For the family he left here grieving, it was a bitter pill…

© 2016

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