Post 187: Traci R

 

While lovers kissed the boat got closer,

While the wind blew it came nearer.

 

It crossed my line of sight,

The sails streamed by, but had no flight.

 

It moved on the power of gasoline,

Not currents, not wind, not even the human machine.

 

I smelled the scent of the sea,

But the gasoline was silent to me.

 

The ship dwarfed the others as it blew it’s mighty horn,

Not of vengeance, not of frustration, not of scorn.

 

The birds circled, but drew no further,

The water moved slowly, and the white was mirrored.

 

In the distance I saw the city down south,

And on the water was reflected the land and myself.

 

I heard the crows, the crashing of waves, and the wails of children,

I heard my heart softly beating,

And the bliss of the moment was captivating.

 

Slowly, slowly, the ship faded away,

But the moment was inside me now and would most definitely stay.

 

 

Art from the Heart · Traci R

Post 186: The Saddest Picture I Ever Saw

The saddest picture I ever saw was of my friend when he was three or four.

He was riding his father’s shoulders, and exuded a sweet smile,

No one could possibly know it would end in a short while.

He died inside his car you see,

He didn’t believe he should go on and breathe.

He didn’t think life had any meaning left,

But when we saw his pictures we all felt bereft.

And yet I see him every once in a while,

He is on the face of people who rarely smile.

I don’t need to see their faces or hear them when they speak,

I just look at their bodies, which always talk to me.

And when I get down I think of the sadness his death brought,

I think of my life, and all that it has taught.

So instead of doing something rash I call family instead,

But inside I wonder who is really at their end?

Who could really use a friend?

That’s why I keep on writing to save even one life,

The Talmud says it can save the world, and somehow that would make things right.

 

Post 185: Witness to Winter

I watched the hard compact balls of snow pass by me

Moving like bullets from a gun.

The battle waged savagely on the grounds of SUNY Albany

With volleys and parries, attacks, and counter attacks.

Fighting with such ferocity at this time of night you would think you were on the front lines of a world war.

Movement back and forth like stampeding cattle.

Yelling and shouts of joy, and then crushing defeat.

The thump sound of balls hitting their intended target,

And the softer sound of the ones off track.

I wonder how many of the participants are smiling.

I couldn’t tell in the cold black darkness, but I could imagine.

An image so large of so many imperfect smiles that it would give my orthodontist fits of joy.

I was a witness to all of this when a geodesic mini moon nearly made me unconscious.

I was saved by the thick glass windowpane and wind controlled-door.

Then smiling I peered underneath the white mark and gazed on in eagerness at the ensuing battle.

Participating vicariously, I dance back and forth while sitting in my cold but comfortable wheelchair.

Post 184: I Walked the Beach

I walked the beach to find a shell to keep,

But no matter how far I walked I could not find a representative of the ocean deep.

One that sparkled or shone with fire, and that could be seen alone in the dark sea,

I found out instead that nothing was more beautiful than what lay inside of me.

A clam, a pearl of potential, lies in all of us you see,

They speak of one thing, what makes one truly you, and truly me.

When you feel hurt or sad try to harvest your pearly gift,

Because your treasure is enough to always bring a certain lift.

And if you can’t find a pearl,

Why man give your imagination a whirl.

Think of all those sad faces that could use some cheer,

And if you found out how to change their lives you could cast away your own fear.

A bit lip never bleeds forever, and a broken heart can be mended,

A broken pot can be put back together, and as you tap your inner strength your troubles will seem like feathers.

Do not fear dying, or pains you imagine,

Just give of yourself, and anything can happen.

Post 183: I'll See Tomorrow's Sun

 

I’ll see tomorrow’s sun that I assure,

It doesn’t matter how much pain I must endure.

 

I feel like a painting because my limbs are attached to the wall,

But in my mind I am Monet, by a field of verdure.

 

Listening to Mozart instead of listening to others scream,

Picturing a different reality is something I dream.

 

I cannot hear my captors, but I hear them when they laugh,

And I think of my children, and I think of the past.

 

I think of God, the bible, and the book of psalms,

I think of heaven, Job, and the things I have done so far.

 

I dream of goals I will certainly attain,

I think of people I’ve met, and my last trip to Spain.

I remember family, and friends from the past,

I remember mistakes, and overcoming them at last.

 

I think of my wife, and the women I have known,

I think of lives I’ve touched, and the things I 've owned,

 

But most of all I think of tomorrow’s sun,

How warm it will feel when I finally go home.

 

 

Post 182: Its Hard to Be a Kid

It’s hard to be a kid these days,

It’s harder still when you are hurt for something that you say.

Hurt for what you do, and hurt for what you did,

Hurt for no reason and hurt because you hid.

They hit, they yell, they cast you glance,

They hold you so close, but could you ever enjoy that awful dance?

Like a python and its prey, what can someone trapped say?

Talk to a friend like a teacher, a coach, a priest, or some other,

They can really listen to your troubles like a devoted brother.

You think your life will get worse, but sometimes things get better,

Change your life, make that call, text, or email that letter.

Post 180: A Found Sunrise

This poem is dedicated to anyone in the world dealing with the difficulties such as the Covid epidemic, and and climate change.  Stay strong!

If you listen very closely,

And slowly open your eyes,

You can experience it very clearly,

Every morning sun at it’s rise.

Purple, orange, and a glint of green,

Are made daily by God’s great machine.

You can taste it in the dew,

You can smell it in the air,

Sweeter than a sugar beet, and oh so much more rare.

It tempts the inner soul to go to heaven’s gate,

To climb a forest tree, and share it with your mate.

Rainbows are infrequent,

Flowers come and go,

But give me a sunrise,

What a glorious show.

 

 

Post 178: Malfunctioning Gaydar

 

I just posted in the featured post area (Hoodie) about assumptions. I think it happened to me again  last night. I was out for dinner in Westchester, New York with a male friend whose wife was away in Vermont. We went to a nice Italian restaurant and had a seemingly good meal. Unfortunately later in the night after I had came home I became violently ill and made the bathroom sink look like a Salvatore Dali painting....Sorry Imelda (Our cleaning lady) She just cleaned it a few hours earlier.  One of my family members heard me vomiting and wanted to know if I was ok. Which I was for the most part.  I just didn't sleep well.

And to think I didn't go to a friend's party. Perhaps that would have been better, and less drama. Anyway, back to gaydar, I don't know if this has ever happened to you that you go out for a meal with a same sex friend and it seems that you are being perceived as gay and treated worse than if you are heterosexual. It took forever for our waiter to take our order. Maybe it was because it was a Saturday night and the restaurant was quite busy. I don't know.  I just feel that discrimination in any shape or form is wrong.

Unfortunately this was not the first time this has happened. My friend Pete and I once went to Jackson Hole diner in Bayside and struck up a nice conversation with a blond-headed waitress.  My friend sometimes is a little too effusive with praise, somewhere along the lines of "You are beautiful...etc." He even gave her his card when he found out she wanted to be a teacher to see if he could help her in her career path.  That turned out to be a mistake.

Apparently, she told one of my co-workers, Big John, that "Two gay teachers" came into the diner.

"What did they look like?" John asked.

"One had spikey hair and the other one was bald."

That created a great deal of laughter in our office, and anger from Pete and I.

"Bald!" I said to one of my friend, "I may be balding but I am not bald."

So that became the running joke that I was upset that I was perceived as bald, but didn't mind being called gay.  The truth is I am confident about my sexuality, but bald seems over the line.

There seems to be too many double standards in life.  An young male dates an older woman is perceived as fantasy for some but an older male with a young woman might be seen as a dirty old man.

A woman sleeps with a lot of guys and might be thought of as a slut or other bad word but a man who does the  same thing is a gigolo, a player, a boss, but really they are doing the same thing.  It's all how society looks at males and females.

A man kisses another guy and he is gay, but a woman who does the same thing with another woman is "experimenting" or "hot" double standard.

A man ages he is getting more mature or distinguished but a woman who gets older is just getting older. Double standard.

Life Lesson: I really don't know the answer to this all I can say is that society should treat men and women with equality and that we should be free to be ourselves, not prejudged, treated with courtesy, and that it is not what you have on your head, but what you have in your head that makes all the difference.