1/1/12
The hour chimes and so a brand new day,
Will shine upon us in the dawn's pale light,
What may await us next we dare not say,
Great blessings and success or bitter fight?
The world to which we wake,we cannot know,
Once, on this hallowed night, we close our eyes,
Their lids, dream leaden veils, shall lift to show,
A life of but one constant- pure surprise.
Yet, one prediction we may take as fact,
Despite what comes, great joy or misery,
Whatever life delivers, we will act,
With perseverance, love, and bravery.
12/31/11
The end of year brings final reckoning,
And bears as witness to this life evolved,
A time when we may match our shortcomings,
With faithful pacts to which we are resolved.
We make a promise to our former selves,
That must be kept by those we shall become,
For which fulfillment, only time will tell,
Once we again assess the next year done.
And so, I too have pondered my own place,
My largess and arrears in life's accounts,
And vow to grant less fear and greater faith,
To tender more forgiveness and less doubt.
I pledge my greater love and charity,
The first recipient of which, is me.
The end of year brings final reckoning,
And bears as witness to this life evolved,
A time when we may match our shortcomings,
With faithful pacts to which we are resolved.
We make a promise to our former selves,
That must be kept by those we shall become,
For which fulfillment, only time will tell,
Once we again assess the next year done.
And so, I too have pondered my own place,
My largess and arrears in life's accounts,
And vow to grant less fear and greater faith,
To tender more forgiveness and less doubt.
I pledge my greater love and charity,
The first recipient of which, is me.
12/30/11
The year's long course is finally almost run,
And as the day approaches nigh, I find,
This book of poetry is almost done.
This daily challenge, I myself assigned,
At last, shall be complete and put to rest,
This journal's journey reached it's fateful end,
And yet, i feel i haven't passed a test,
So much as lost a dear and constant friend.
The year's long course is finally almost run,
And as the day approaches nigh, I find,
This book of poetry is almost done.
This daily challenge, I myself assigned,
At last, shall be complete and put to rest,
This journal's journey reached it's fateful end,
And yet, i feel i haven't passed a test,
So much as lost a dear and constant friend.
12/27/11
The strangely still and quiet time that falls,
'Twixt Christmas night and after new years day,
Of unexpected cards and happy calls,
As obligations drift and schedules stray.
All business is conducted half asleep,
Deferred, adjourned, extended and postponed,
By those who stop the ticking clocks to keep,
The season, safely hidden in their homes.
The days are long and lasting, soft and warm,
Like twilight's edge, suspended in the cold,
An eye in life's relentless raging storm,
A chapter closed, before the next is told.
12/24/11
Why are my childhood thoughts of Christmas eve,
So full of happiness and free of care?
Perhaps it was the myths which I believed,
Of sleigh and reindeer flying through the air,
Perhaps anticipation through the night,
Of gifts that made their way beneath the tree,
By steady glow of softly blinking lights,
And snow swept scenes appearing magically.
Yet, as I grow, I think such memories,
Must issue from a youthful innocence.
As I have lived my daily destiny,
I know more of this world and trust it less.
And so on Christmas, I think i must try,
To put aside my disenchanted woes.
To see this earth as through a child's eyes,
May be the greatest of all gifts bestowed.
12/22/11
One last chance before the coming storm,
To execute the lengthy list of chores,
To clear the clutter of our daily norms,
With only fleeting hours left before
The frantic winds of celebration start,
And carry us away in happiness.
We shall proceed with love within our hearts,
Providing they don't give out from the stress.
12/21/11
Once every year we happily,
Explore the attic and retrieve,
The dressings for our Christmas tree,
As we festoon its boughs and leaves,
With ornaments and artifacts,
Collected over time and stored,
All bric-a-brac which harkens back,
To times remembered and adored,
Bright points of life, lit on display,
That tell of ages come and gone,
Like trees, so we shall wilt away,
But through these trinkets linger on.
12/18/11
An antique sofa seat
It's inner springs gone askew
The padding once soft and replete,
Diminished and almost worn through.
It's threadbare fabric strains,
And pulls against weakened seams,
Held rough on a weak creaking frame,
Of damaged and shifting beams.
And yet, one still may find,
Great pleasure that is to be known,
When taking a beat to recline,
And think about each separate home,
This furniture has seen,
Grand moments in life it has shared,
Idyllic days,calm and serene,
And comfort from darkest despair.
Agreements and dissent,
The happiness countering tears,
The jubilant cheers and repent,
Of long passing months and quick years.
A resting point for souls,
Who stop for a moment and stay,
To catch a quick breath and then go,
As life leads them off on their way.
12/14/11
A year of long planning shall end tonight,
The hour resolves our worried wait.
The realization of our foresight,
All hopes and all fears shall culminate,
This one moment holding all potency,
Contained in the instant of a wish.
Although there's no knowing of what will be,
For better or worse it has come to this.
12/9/11
We may worry all we wish,
We may wring our hands and fret,
But reality is this,
And what hasn't happened yet,
Will transpire as it will,
Though we wait with tortured souls,
We will never know until,
Future hours chime and toll.
'tis far better to reflect,
On the best of all that's been,
Than to painfully expect,
What is still yet to begin.
We may meddle to no end,
We may writhe in agony,
But for all we may pretend,
Nothing changes what will be.
12/8/11
The earth is angry 'neath it's shifting soil,
It's heat is seeping through rough broken seams,
Releasing clashing forces long embroiled,
In elemental pressures, belching steam.
The billowing of gasses to the sky,
Will tell us of a fury forged below.
The passions of creation never die,
And shall provide a shrine where we might go,
To be reminded of our fragile place,
Where, for the moment, we're allowed to be,
And live upon this skin by nature's grace,
As masters, only of fortuity.
12/6/11
As I was floating aimless in the ocean tides,
Between the windswept surface swells and teeming reefs,
An aged passing turtle happened swimming by,
While crossing through the endless waterways beneath.
He fanned his flipper limbs and turned about to see.
Through curious black eyes, he gently set his gaze,
Upon this strange invading, abnormality
Who's home did not belong at all beneath the waves.
This chance encounter, intimate yet far away,
Like somehow reaching through a wall of solid glass,
Connection, precious, but not ever meant to stay,
Two oceans overlapping as the currents pass.
12/5/11
I met a man who lived in paradise,
And on a simple whim I asked him this,
What place on earth could possibly entice,
More than his own abode, what would he wish?
Where would he choose to go if he could fly?
What other vistas might he long to see?
And so this lucky, lonely man replied,
That he would visit friends and family.
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