Tag Archives: Family

The Marker

Marker

How did the stain of past life find its place upon this silent grave?
What aged the emerald crescent’s arc, kindly blotched the written stave?

What of its words and heartfelt kiss
that left a summer’s rain amiss?

What countenance divine embraced
this site befitting, this resting place?

Through what redacted soulful truths
did heaven ride to seal the proofs?

Who stood upon this sullen ground
in saddened prayer, in whispered sound?

What happened here? Who knew the scene?
What time sustained and held between
the moments of the resting?
What moments from the fight?
Who stoops above this sacred stone,
in haunt and love each night…?

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Filed under Angels, Family, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

The Waiting Room and the Aftermath

Time compressed a lifetime to a single moment, drawn slender, nearly warping the second hand, yet each escaping stroke pounded heavy, a muted hammer against the polished anvil of time’s progression.

The waiting was over. Wringing hands and silent prayers were done.

You entered, unwelcomely wanted, through an angel’s open door. It was June. Iowa June.

The air clung thick. Soundless single syllables just heard beyond the pounding blood of my ears, beneath my mother’s panicked hopeful breathing, against the ironic tapping of your white Florsheim shoes, covered in blood.

Our suspended sanctuary broken with your nod, and respectful question. Yet our vigil held a moment longer, well over the precipice. “I’m sorry,” you said, “he didn’t survive.” All point of reference, gone. Asking, “What!?” You repeated yourself scratching at an explanation. My mother’s orchestral voice raised in tension, sweet timbre of violin strings, disbelieving, could only sing, “Oh no! Oh no! I will never hold his hand again! Oh my God! Oh no!”

To a pinhole view the world resolved. In haunting hush my brother’s sweet tears were all I heard to comfort a life’s long loss. The room devoured, swallowing breath in its labored breathing, Jonah in the whale. Details smeared in fresco, glossy, distorted. Every step, every word relaxed along the corridor, penetrating, piercing my battled grasp to cling on. You there, browning blood rooted in the piped white stitching. Your words, soundless.

Disdain revolved my iron neck, begging to turn away, only to see her there, slanting through hell’s door; a pig in squalor, a nurse in white, makeup of a whore. Piercing the fleeting glimpse of any dream with, “You need to gather the belongings. Come with me.”

Fleeing you, this trap, I followed her. Fat, short, squat legs pounding busy hallway tiles; purpose of a jack hammer. Spinning, burning in overload through hospital denizens, features stretched, some kind, some lost, some loud… An eon’s flooded blur slammed prostrate to clinical white doors. Another trap to open.

“It’s all in here”, she said, thrusting upon me the brown frayed grocery bag, clasped in sparkles of Swingline precision, his name in black, still wafting a Sharpied rush to the end. Would it ever end?

Heavy armed, I slowly turned to face an eternity lulled to desperate lows, stretching it’s Einstein’d moments illusively, forever before me, pressing mass upon mass, gravity surreally bending the tears to flood.
In memory of the waiting room and the aftermath, the day my father died in surgery, June 17, 1985.
Written for d’Verse Poets Pub – http://dversepoets.com/

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Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry

Ashes

The years upon themselves will close,
once folded then unfolded,
as unaged born, to ageless turns,
through aging’s twining scolded.

Through years of moment’s pleasures,
grafted to the ether’s breath,
whispered dreams in flags of prayer,
escape the truth of death.

When just the pyre’s ash remains,
when autumn’s hushing gently stirs,
when absence seems too stark to hold,
life’s long red thread endures.

Stitched through laughter’s echo,
knotted through a true love’s seam,
hung as memory’s bunting,
graces truths we’re left to dream.

For these will not escape us,
born free above what ash remains,
as time reclaims its holdings,
these memories, this life sustains.

for Judy Arterburn (July 25, 1944 – January 5, 2016)

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Filed under Family, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Uncategorized

The Silent Quiet of Age

Still the silent quiet of age steeps rich this moment, reflecting,
echoes just what hopes deny in truth’s cold introspecting.
No fear, here, within the pause caught and loosely locked.
Just awe respecting shadow’s keep amongst the greying, flocked.

Peace gathers warm in knowing,
treasured paths and journeys made,
rest in sweetened summer fields beside the rill and glade.

Ripened in the setting sun,
kisses’ pure, seduction brings
the whispered scent of lilac twixt my golden locks, in rings.

Oh! my heart weeps openly,
for home and love’s sweet hand,
yet aging now, my courting call,
returns my lust to dust and sand.

Shed not a tear for me, for I am ne’er gone away.
But find me in this whispered breeze upon a low and setting ray,
for I’ll see you there.
I’ll touch your young and flowing hair.
I’ll dance about you in delight!
I’ll raise the thrush to song and flight,
that you may sense me here…
my pipe and whiskers smiling, dear.

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Filed under Dreams, Memory, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Eternal Patrol

O’er the western sea she gleams,
the dawning sun in diamonds bright,
gold in silent solitude,
brilliant hopes adorned in white.

I stand upon the rolling hills
above the gentle sleeping bay,
wondering what’s become of you,
quietly wiping tears away.

To sea the dawning stretches west
across these verdant hills of green
that hide between the misty rills
cascading on to ends unseen.

O’er sleeping gentle wave below,
my heart gives rise to your return,
yet no reward of sailor’s share,
no treasure granted, no fires burned.

My brother! Oh brother!
Upon the deck your name is notched.
The boson softly calls eight bells.
Eight bells to end your watch.

Unto the depths your earth returns
upon eternal patrol,
in service to the ones you’ve loved
and those since called to roll.

Amidst the blinding glints of dawn
the bay stands still revealing you,
there upon the deck with pride,
your courage smiling through.

Peace be yours my brother.
Calm seas to you forever more.
To you we are indebted.
May you, dear sailor, rest your oars.

For my brother Mike – 21-Dec-1944 to 12-June-2015
United States Navy – Submarine Service
1962 – 1969

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Filed under Family, Poetry, Universal Soul

Of Passing…

Ashes drift across the page,
smudged in ink that lies in rage
left loosened by these blotted stains,
so holds the moment thick.

I sit with silenced, emptied mind
denying few the words I find,
yet nothing blunts the pain
that bends these lays in pages sick.

There is no hope in honesty,
when to the last, emotions fail.
There is but lucid clarity,
that paints the final moments pale.

Flesh deprives the man behind.
Sickness ebbs the soul in kind,
but still the eagled spirit shines,
so baits us to the end.

Moments pass as prayers drift
until the spirits seeking, lift
his deity’s smoky lines,
that in our presence mend.

All life is left in moments played
between the poles of death and birth,
yet left perplexed in passing’s sum
we stand here heavy on this earth…
Waiting our return.

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Filed under Family, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Quiet Now…

Quiet now the sighing comes as day’s extent is done,
and here I sit in corner’s chair that by this pen might cull the sum,
the sum, that is, of life and love that passes through the day
and pulls the corners down to fit among these thoughts that stray,
that stray through life’s long memories with children gathered home,
who share sweet smiles in reverie, recount the years we’ve come to roam.

Can there be a heaven blessed beyond a peace as this?
Can there be some greater gift than drifting through this day’s sweet bliss?

I pause to see their faces, feel their hands from small to tall,
hear their laughter’s timber and the path that each one’s life does call.
By grandkid’s eager smiling eyes, by children’s happy grins,
my life in purpose rounded whole sets full within my soul again,
blessed to know the kindest fabric of life in fullest stride
where time grants blessing’s happiness to those I love and hold in pride.

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Filed under Family, Perspective, Poetry