Category Archives: Memory

The Gypsy Rover

Her silken touch in dance across the twill’s uneven strand,
graces so her slender wrist as beauty’s stem and giving’s hand.
Poised in quiet pleasure, she works the loom in quickened throws
of shuttle passing twixt the threads which capture kind the weft in rows.

Her mind and heart deny the task that binds this simple weave,
permits her drift on whispered tones of gypsy songs that pitch and heave
through stories of the rover, of hearts won true seduced by song,
of verdant green and rolling rills that tempt a maiden’s heart strings long.

Between the woven threads of twill she hears a whistling soft and sweet
that slowly grows above the hill, its timber and its tone complete.
She feels the green wood gently ring in echo ‘cross the valley’s rill,
till nearer from the shady lane she feels her heart give rise, then still…

“But for gypsy rover!” she laughs and pulls the warp lines tight,
“One day he’ll yet come for me!” smiles and casts the shuttle’s flight
between the warp suspended threads, sweetly bound by loving hand,
blended with the rover’s song still tempting maidens through the land.

In honor of and inspired by the song “The Whistling Gypsy” also known as “The Gypsy Rover”

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Filed under Memory, Mountains, Nature, Poetry, True Love

This Aging Garden Gate

Hung in hesitation’s poise,
this iron gate denies no friend,
creaks and clangs in phrase of welcome
whenever one walks in.

Here amidst the cold stone wall,
now overgrown in moss and vine,
hangs this aging garden gate,
held to dress this walk, quite fine.

Beneath the years of layers black
in sacred paint applied in trust,
cracks the skin of age and wear
exposing blisters filled with rust.

The slapping latch is worn quite thin.
Her angles softly sagging.
The spring to bring her closed again
strains beneath her weight, just lagging.

Yet through this temporal portal streams
the futures past in longing dreams.
Through her kindest stance has come
the sweetest loves, the greatest sums
of all a man desires…
…angels swept in summer dress…
…devils danced in fire…

Through her constant threshold drifted
words of war, hopes of peace,
worries of life’s certain failings,
prayers for a sweet release.

Now as I, with aging hand,
caress her subtle arabesque,
I quietly gather dreams recalled,
some living, most at rest.

Oh dear friend, my fortunes flowed
across your gentle grace,
calmly calling to this path
that since has aged this place.

Once more I pull her toward me,
my life resounds her echoed call
that soon our futures beckon
toward the fade, toward the fall.

God bless you little gate,
my colored life’s been marked in time
by gracious clangs and creaking,
so set, by you, to living’s rhyme.

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Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

WWII – in memorial

Once upon a battlefield
I stood where heroes fell,
where brothers, sons and lovers paused
to hear death’s tolling knell.

Once upon an open sea
I sailed where deep remain
the bodies of courageous men
who, by war were sadly slain.

Once upon the azure blue
I drifted through the crimson cloud
where valiant fighters dealt with death
to die alone in sullen shroud.

I’ve felt the moments summoned.
I’ve seen the grave despair.
I’ve witnessed every breath so gained
and every soul laid bare.

I’ve shed a tear not meant for me,
but for the uncaressed
that ne’er again felt warmth of love
before their final rest.

To their souls my prayer,
my honor and my truth,
that they be blessed eternal,
and blessed in memory’s youth!


Filed under History, Memory, Poetry

For Those I’ve Lost

This time in life is granted only excerpts from the greater toll
that beckons in its rhythm, moments for a wanting soul,
to live, to gain, to give through pain,
to know the love of those who love and in it never feel the drain
of moments bound to dust.

For time is short in living, our pleasures mount our memory,
that in the end at final breath we count them all in reverie.

The souls we touch are here for us, each blessing granted in return,
that when we give of what we know we share the things we most must learn.

Some I’ve known have slipped beyond the current’s blood of beating heart,
yet each in turn gave gracefully a blessing sweet, instilled as art
in loving what their time did grant, in knowing kindness true,
in setting place for time again to sit and talk a few.

I know in true reflection that my silence seems quite empty now,
but grief is for the living, yet through it, all I see is how
they touched me with their gentle hands, and smiled form their truest source,
so granted me a piece of God in whispers held along my course.

Yet still the echoes’ silence rings when by their empty home I pass,
and sadness fills the emptiness that I must hold for them, alas…
it is my purpose rent for them, recalling all the times we knew,
recalling conversations long, now seeming much too few.

God grant them peace and blessings, grant the love for them I show,
hold them close in comfort knowing that the best in them is what I know.


Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

WWI – Remembrance

Cold the wet horizon lies in silhouetted waste
that runs from where my footsteps fall in hesitation’s haste.
Upon this pitted road of ruin, blackened earth from bombs and blood,
my destination’s certain claim is death here in this mud.

In Liege the madness started, as all declared their stance to war,
that by autumnal equinox the fallen rose half million more.

The stench of death in mix of gas recoils my stepping’s gait,
yet onward to what’s still undone denies this bitter state.
The brazen mud and field works bare the corpses of the dead,
yet standing forest memories form the lamp posts of this hellish stead.

Gallipoli, Verdun, ring fallen echoes home,
yet nothing ranked the senselessness of what we faced in Somme.

The spring of 1918 held hope for millions dead,
yet those of us who stand here still, returned this hope with dread.
Now upon this backing rush storm troopers raised in ire,
whispers of remembrance rekindling this fire.

Now we drive in final push, Amiens and silent Somme,
knowing Hindenburg awaits with more of hell to come.

I count the eyes remaining of the faces that I’ve loved,
these brothers mine, some traces of their angels raised above.
I feel the dank of weary hearts held in courageous hope,
I sense the end is near now, and pray that I can cope…

one more push, one more trench,
another bloodied night in stench
that fills my nostrils sorely with a pain I’ll never loose,
resolve to carry on in strength, relent to those I choose
to aim a fatal blow toward or drop to sudden cover,
waiting for that one last breath in life or as death’s lover.

Over the top boys!


Filed under History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry

Grandfather Clock

Silence drones the space between
the ticking of the clock,
grants eternal patience
swept in pendulum’s play to mock.

The tension of the winding spring
stands the air to crème,
as hopeful hesitation calms
the pensive chimes to dream.

Built to serve a purpose.
Left to witness life.
Counting every breaking hour
twixt sweeps of joy and strife.

Dusted here in tender care
by shaking grey and lucid hands,
in hopes to hear its chimes once more
and toll this hall’s passing, grand,
for yet another hour.


Filed under History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Surrender – an elegy

Surrender to the evening shade
that creeps from blind to blind.
Surrender to the deepest fade
that grants sweet peace in kind.
Surrender with each aching bone
drawn tight through day’s duress.
Surrender to this moment lone,
and to your soul confess –

For deep the shadows filter long
as silence stirs the mist,
where whispers in this aging song
breathe the gift of day’s end kiss.

Release to time eternal
that immortal may your soul become.
Transcend in blossoms vernal
through waves of thought where dreams do run.
Grant the ether heart’s release
from all that’s earthly bound.
Rise to home in sweetest peace
that there in love your soul may drown.


Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul


My pen stirs slowly ‘cross the page,
searching, longing, reaching,
in hopes to find the worldly sage
to calm the word’s beseeching
this moment’s hopeful pause,
a chance to turn back time,
one fleeting glimpse before the dawn
‘midst crossroads held in rhyme.

Alas the ink bleeds fatter
where stuttered, grasping strokes belie
the struggle toward a good phrase turned
to sing this last goodbye.

~ for Debbie ~

She held us cherished in her heart
as brother, sister, child and friend.
She stoked our inspiration’s fire
and to our effort, kindness lend;
a point of hope’s reflection,
a tender smile in “dear”,
a spark to poet’s self-inflection
to boldly stroke the ink, less fear.

She echoed, full, life’s lessons,
inspired by Abuela’s love.
She carried true her value’s strength
and whispered thoughts from God’s own dove.

Her life steeped rich in courage,
her words and songs on waves still send
her fruits of truth, “I Have a Voice”,
from The Girl With the Pen.

Faithfully, my friend.

J. Blue
In memory of Debbie Avila


Filed under Memory, Poetry, Universal Soul

In Loving Memory of Debbie Avila

The girl with the pen – (aka “I Have a Voice“)

It’s hard to believe that Debbie is gone. I know that for so many of us, she was not only our dear friend, but also a constant inspiration and source of continued motivation.

Her writing was always inspired and usually pointed toward helping us rise above, toward asking us to live life in its fullest.

Underneath her eloquence was a very kind humor. I once made a crack to her about a comment she made on one of poems where she likened me to Walt Whitman. I said something along the lines of “yeah, that’d be me, scraggly long haired bearded guy”, to which she replied, “ah, but you are much more handsome”… I will miss her.

Her wordpress page was entitled “Ye Shall Know Me by My Fruits”. I think we can all resoundingly echo that her fruits were many and her gifts true, through which we all came to know her well. And I personally like the subtle small warning of her page that states “Words Make a Difference. Use Wisely

Her most recent post, 8-Jan-2014, “Squeeze Tight!” echoes the truth of Debbie’s soul.

an excerpt worth keeping –
I do not believe that life was designed to DO or BE everything in this life span, not for one-self or anyone. (Thank goodness, or I’d never want to see another dawn!) Can you conjure how sweet and fulfilling an individual hug can penetrate your whole being? We all like, need, and deserve individual hugs, don’t we? Why…? Because we are only ONE; that singular moment should be fully experienced, claimed and LIVED in all its glory as our FIRST kiss! What do you think, my friend?

Take my word, you are farther ahead on your desired journey than you can see! I applaud you and urge you onward and upward!

So, my friends, gather your ageless dreams enthusiastically and happily, pick those sparkling stars that have been calling your name, take a handful of moon dust, and add a few cheery cherubs to keep you dreaming and aiming UPWARD.

In September of last year she posted “I’m Not Dead, Only Waiting to Sing”…

Oh my dear friend, how I know you are singing now!  God bless you!


Filed under Memory, Poetry, Universal Soul

Year’s End

Amidst these tolling temporal bells
I pause to point’s reflection,
stir my ether’s constant frame
and search at length through recollection
of moments past the marker’s knot,
for pleasures granted and instilled,
for smiles brought of challenges
and what the strength of spirit willed.

Echoes gently flutter by,
stolen ‘neath a sacred tending
that holds each fixed to point in time
as if there stayed for mending.
But slowly in procession,
in recounting all the rights and wrongs,
entreat I each as specter’d witness,
relive I every moment gone.

What points of purpose rent here,
twixt ignorance and learning’s way?
What broken ties of prejudice
softened in compassion’s play?
What fits of anger cast to air
that quickly time did mend?
What tender moments loving shared
that through this life did sweetly blend?

By symphony’s silent sweeping roll
imbibe these portents of the year,
as sharing all their luscious steps
in bowed and curtseyed waltzing near.
Their smiles kindly greet me
as they pass in memories golden glow,
enrobed in holly season’s mirth
with winter’s rosy cheeks to show.

So I in temporal witness,
last station ‘tween the poles of years,
regard no hesitation in
tomorrow’s subtle unknown fears.
But at this point’s enlightenment
I gather wholly what I’ve known,
count each memory sacred,
blessed by what their dance has shown,
and what of me I’ve come to own
amidst the bells in tolling here.


Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul