survivor guilt – February 26

2.26.2018

in wartime guns rattle,

ied’s level the guys next

to you, and some come

home in pieces,

while others in only guises

and varieties of a whole.

 

why me, why not me

why them, and I’m

still here

haunts;

survivor guilt infecting

the soul.

 

late in life it strikes again

 

about friends who ended up,

at the side of the park

we played cards in and smoked

as wanna-be-thugs,

with a needle in their arm;

 

or just fell down between

the stacks in college

for no apparent reason

still dressed in their

three-piece suit.

 

not to mention all the poor

and hungry and bombed

and tortured and maimed

in all those other parts

of the world

or just down the street.

 

and why me, why not me

why them, and I’m

still here

still haunts.

 

survivor guilt.

===================

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at some moment – February 20

2.20.2018

Mortality is a tricky beast.

At some moment I will feel

a catch, a stop, an instant,

and my eyes

will blink or close,

my mind stop registering,

to not open again.

 

I may hear briefly

the ones I love

or the world around,

whatever the sounds are,

but it will stop.

 

And I pray that in that moment

the one who created me

will be faithful.

That at some moment

I will open whatever eyes and sight

are appropriate for

the new moment.

 

And that I will be with

those I love

and the One.

+++

I’ll see you darling.

See you in the morning.

——————

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Hi Friends, Sabbatical – January 19

Hi friends,

I’ve been on a bit of a posting-sabbatical. Still writing, but working more on editing and putting material together for some possible chapbooks, as well as working on some longer pieces. I still read and appreciate many of  your posts on your own sites… and will probably start putting up some more poetry  here come mid-February.

Best & Blessings.

Len

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nightmares come – November 3

11.3.2017

nightmares come

of fears and terrors

places, faces

that know no

mercy

 

that smile at evil

and play no face

to honor

 

fears of a world

not open to

the One

 

such that waking

is to prayer.

==============

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halloweenies – October 31

10.31.2017

little tigers, dinosaurses,

ballerinas, and princes of yore;

butterflies and dragon feelers

spidermen and turtle lords;

 

batmen, batgirls,

spidermen

and wonder women

but barely a goblin or

a devil galore.

 

perhaps they’ve learned

the mighty lesson

the one that matters

when we all grow old

 

that we tend to

become what we

play at playing

that we tend to become

the masks

we’ve worn.

————

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late in the day – October 20

10.20.2017 [late in the day]

late into the day

aches

neck, shoulders

heart.

============

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concerted concert – October 15

10.15.17 [concerted concert]

wrinkling faces alive
in song, not professional
but intent to make
music

out of simple gift
within.

housewife, grandma,
bookkeeper, teacher
nothing pure;

just holy.
====================

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the garage door froze – October 12

10.12.2017 [the garage door froze]

the garage door froze
and I had to stay
home.

joy.

noplace having to
go
no meetings having
to attend

just things left undone
around the house
that have been
waiting, haunting

that a good sandwich
some beans
and a fresh cuppa

make fun.

sore muscles after
doing the leaves
but so what

accomplishment
serenity
and a glass of
irish.

hooray.
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a godly conversation – October 8

[a godly conversation]

I cannot speak to you
as I would or
rather could
should
my mouth is
wood
when I open it to
say my heart
and roots
drop out
of things
that never quite
touch what it was
I was hoping to
hoping to
hope

so I hope, in my
hoping, in my trust
in my faith

that you know.
———————————-

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Hoppy come home – September 20, 2017

Hop-Along-Cassidy smiled

his hard smile, eyes

like diamonds,

so deadly and cool.

 

Hold it or else, were

the words left unspoken

no need to utter

the message was clear.

 

Where has it gone now

that either-or clearness

the warning of danger

that held us from harm

 

Bad guys stepped back

the good folks encouraged

knowing that Hoppy

would not fool around.

 

I miss that hard goodness

the laugh and the calm

that looked out at danger

and stood up alone.

 

Hoppy come home now

we miss your clear story

our range’s gone missing

our vision’s turned lame.

—————-

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