The Mill Pond Musings: 2015

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Merry Christmas - 2015

Christmas comes but once each year
with short lived joy and short lived cheer

the gift I'd share, if mine to give;
Spiritual peace for as long as you live,

family close, friends held near,
faith, and love throughout the year.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Let Freedom Ring

When in the course of human events
   We the People did say
A government required restrictions on it
   So Freedom could have its way

The founding fathers independence declared
   O’er the summer of seventy-six
King George reinforced his army here
   Rebellion to crush and fix

But Old Ben, and Tom, and John, and James
   Wrote a Constitution to define
How Government should work, and what it could do
   And where it would cross the line

To further assure that the plan was clear
   A Bill of Rights they did make
To clarify what the gov’ment was forbade
   To do, enforce, or take

And so began an experiment unique
   In the history of common man
As to whether a people could wisely choose
   To self-govern by careful plan

Take three minutes this holiday,
   To read the short Bill of Rights
Think them over, to understand
   How they define your citizen’s might

The words are few to read and know
   What the framers had in mind
Make the time to consider them so
   Freedom won’t be confined

And again before each election day
   Reread those powerful words
Keep them fresh within your mind
   To help you evade hazards

Of nice sounding thoughts and well-meaning goals
   That can captivate and enthrall
But end up restricting individual’s rights
   Thus choking freedom for all

Remember this grand experiment
   Each time your called to vote
Don’t let the blood and tears that flowed
   Become a mere footnote

In history’s parade of man’s struggle
   Against tyranny’s sting
Assure each vote continues to
   Let Freedom Ring

Friday, June 26, 2015

Rambling On

A wonderful thing is a Dutchman,

A Dutchman’s a wonderful thing

Our heads are filled with intellect

We tell stories ‘bout everything

We’re talky, talky, talky, talky,

Bright, bright, bright, bright, bright

The most wonderful thing about Dutchmen is

Listen and we’re sure to delight

A Dutchman the good lord made me

A Dutchman that’s what I am

A Story telling son of my father

A thoughtful and talkative man

I cut my teeth on real stories

And debating ideas over a meal

Logic and color and excitement’s

The crux of this storytelling deal

When asked once how I remembered

Tales from the long ago past

I pointed at scars on my left hand and arm

And said that the memories would last

From long before, to long from now

Yet richer with every account

For each time a story is told

It grows by the least amount

Now I rambled and roamed as a young man

But some day I will ramble no more

Yet my stories will ramble on without me

Over some windswept distant shore

Retaining my youth and my spirit

As I fade to the end of my ways

Extending my life immeasurably

Beyond the end of my days

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Just a Touch

Hollow being

Spirals inward

Facing oblivion

Eternal separation

Clawingly grasps

Mankind’s single

Greatest tragedy

Crushing isolation

Weeping souls

Violently flail

Rage exposed

Failures bare’d

Fear alight

Consuming life

Charred embers

Widely scattered

While restitution

Awaits activation

Lost opportunities

Before blossoming

Soul’s enriched

Reason’s justified

Love’s affirmed

Human touch

Imbues within

Individual hearts

Nourishing energy

Prompting salvation

Manifest ascendancy

Easily accomplished

Gentle contact

Reclaims forlornness

Seven Billion Souls

Seven billion souls

Persevere in constant

Intimate physical proximity

While most individuals

Refuse healing contact

Residing isolated within

Miserably endured life

Tragedy

The single greatest

Tragedy of mankind’s

Recent evolutionary history

Soul crushing isolation

Mercilessly self-imposed

In Barren Wilderness

In barren city

And Industrialized world

Mankind walks alone

Naively ignoring all

Evidence of devolution

Ever closer destruction

Steadily crushing civilization

Under wanton disregard

While vitriolic rhetoric

Violently gathering those

Humans slow dying

In barren wilderness

Friday, May 1, 2015

Tired

Tired
     the only horse
     in the trace
     full loaded wagon
     weight bearing full
     on tender shoulders.

Tired
     pulling each day
     alone forward into
     a distant scrubland
     of dusty rock.

Tired
     investing limited life,
     receiving unlimited nothing
     everlastingly in return.

Tired
     exhausted and spent
     drained of being

Tired
      crushed under deathly

Tired

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Dreams

Too fast, too fast

           Approaches the dawn

With it my dream time

           Will be gone

Gone, dreams of a world

           And a life that’s new

Gone, dreams of love

           Of me and you

Can You See Me?

Are you now blind?

     Or will I find

     I’ve been left behind

     Purged from your mind.

I Can't Live Without You

Noble words

Yet so painfully untrue

For living without you

I continue to do.

To Be A Man

The boy eagerly yearned to be a man

To bend the world to his very own plan

He could not understand why his father wore a frown

And acted as though he had been beaten down

The boy, you see, had the confidence of his youth

While his the father had aged and learned the truth

That life can be trying, grow weary and old

To all young men who start out determined and bold

Spent

I have spent

My life

Foolishly

Valuing only

That which I earned

I have learned

Know this

I was wrong

The real value

Is in how

Life is spent

Airport

The concourse smells of:

        Partings forced

        Reunions awaited

        Tearful separations

        Nervous greetings

And happy moments

        In the stream of being.

Miles, Days, Moons

Once,
      a lifetime ago,
      pleasure was found
      in the simple physical touch of her.

Just her
      Presence changed the flavor
      of each
      drawn breath.

Her aura lit
      the darkness and shown towards
      future joys,
      contentment, and wonder.

Now,
      her presence cast harsh light on
      dreary toil til death slips silently
      from the shadows to bring the pleasure of release.

Each breath
      is drawn, labored,
      against the foulness
      of this dank atmosphere.

The best of times, once,
      were pressed up close,
      merging body
      with body.

Now,
      they are when
      miles, days, moons,
      lie between.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Not the Big Dog

My name’s not on the building’s door

In no meeting do I hold the floor

I’m not the CEO or even Boss

I share no gain, but absorb all loss

No business plan is authored by me

To the various locks I hold no key

Each workday begins with new complaints

Challenges, failures, and imposed restraints

I can pay no bill, I sign no check

Yet on my shoulders falls each wreck

The direction to success lies so near

I voice it often, load and clear

They tell me; “clean up every mess,

that precludes advances and success”

But despite how they rant and rail

I’m not the dog, I’m just the tail

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Future Release

Too many,

with far too little time;

the days crush one against another,

pressing, forming, filling all of the possible moments.

Suns rise,

moons set,

tides ebb,

and still the meager time eludes.

Once a future

bright with seductive promise

of unknown pleasure has faded

into the pattern of joyless existence

Physical demands

mean nothing,

pain has ceased to

exist.

Life;

extends beyond the horizon

but is shaded with the light

of a setting sun.

Emotional wounds

weep long after the tearing injury,

drenching each day

with vile stickiness.

Healing is prolonged,

messy, demanding;

all the while the mind and body reach

for the promise of future release.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Isolation

Isolation leans on his shoulders

bearing down with the full weight of silence

slowly crushing his spirit and grinding his soul

into the black tar sands of eternity

Joy has fled

from the relentless stress

of carrying all of the burdens

of life’s living on his own

Hope has long since wilted

under the drudgery of daily duty,

responsibility,

and neglect

Why he awakes each day has grown to mystical proportion;

there is no pleasure,

no recognition,

no support.

But, with each approaching dawn, he rises from fitful sleep,

drawn to the graying horizon,

to stand tall;

aches, pains, fears, and all

One day,

he will fail

to answer the call,

but not today.

　

The Banjo

Thumb,

Fore,

Middle finger

begin the transition.

No longer hesitant,

not yet confident;

they think not of the pluck, roll, or strum,

but of the transition from one to the other.

Not yet smoothly automatic

an errant twang

and buzz

now and then.

Limited as it is,

it is the first sound that can be called

music

struck by this hand in 50 years.

Countless hours before these three digits

can be considered novice banjo pickers, but,

they have taken the first inching steps down the pathway

of the long held desire;

and they feel good

about the possibilities

that lie

ahead.

　
　

Death Will Come

He grew up

wilderness in his heart

vast

wild

open

He sought adventure,

joy and challenge in

hills,

rivers,

forests

The cities assaulted

clawing gashes in his

happiness

spirit

soul

Life flew past

rushing years of toil

decaying

adrift

alone

He looks back

As end steals forth

seeking

personal

peace

Death will come

Only to find him

all

ready

gone

Monday, February 9, 2015

Consumed

The past 35 years have consumed me;

eaten

my core;

absorbed

my very essence.

Time and events have eroded the man;

corroded the confidence,

ground future anticipation,

crushed hope,

suffocated joy.

My body is marked with a full record of the physical wounds I have endured;

scars lie prominently

on the surface of hands,

face, arms, legs

and torso.

But those scars are the only remaining source of joy in my life;

they recall adventures lived

challenges met

and most often

bested.

They, and the wounds that created them

have had no hand

in the destruction

of who I was

to be.

The teeth, jaws, and acid that has consumed my present and my future are relationships;

unseen disfigurements within

destruction of dreams

disappointment in plans

and diminishment of soul.

Blisters oozed the force of life that

once buoyed my future,

leave me calloused

and awash

in the detritus of a life gone awry.

Translate