Sunday, March 23, 2014

Poem: Life Is Still There

Life Is Still There

She said be happy
Relax and enjoy
But rosy shades gloss
The constant sorrow
Within the knowing
That life is still there

She said it works out
Good will come your way
But illusion breaks
On shores of a truth
Feeding on the pain
That life is still there

Life ... Life is still there

Copyright SGW 2011

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Poem: Ostriches

Ostriches

They are flat-earth in thinking
For no proof will provide
The reasons for changing
Toward the facts they’ve denied

Our climate’s been altered
What we’ve done is at root
A snowfall in winter
Doesn’t make this point moot

Half-wits won’t notice
‘For their head’s in the sand
While our ice caps are melting
They pretend all is grand

Sandy served as precursor
For the floods will soon come
As the coastlines we live on
To the oceans succumb

Temperatures rising
To unmatching, new heights
Earth-cracking droughts
There is no end in sight

We consume, we devour
And we squander at will
Unless we evolve
Our demise we’ll fulfill

With unfettered destruction
And the fools of FOX “News”
The threat is expansive
There is too much to lose
  
Copyright SGW 2014


Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Poem: Monsters

Monsters

They resided under the bed
I knew they were there

Lift the bed’s apron … twice
Quickly!

Nothing

They were there
Trust me

Never a threat
Until a finger to a light switch
So all went dark
And they were there

Run to the bed!
Tuck the blanket in fully around me
My only defense

Yet here I sit today
Having warded off the monsters
Hidden under my childhood bed

They were there

Copyright SGW 2014


Footnote:  Poetry prompt #243 in Melissa Donovan’s “1200 Creative Writing Prompts”


Friday, January 3, 2014

Poem: Ends

Ends

Moments pass as clocks spin
Little nooks of happiness reveal
Warmths of joyful pleasure
Linger in these pockets of sanctuary
For their finite nature is absolute
And they fade from view
As life moves to other destinations

Consciously, one must breathe in these jewels of time
Mental images marking what has come
And gone
The sadness of that which is lost …
Is it lost?
Or just embraced within
While some new adventure gestates

I will miss what has ended
But also rejoice in the beautiful memory
For then it lives forever
  

Copyright SGW 2013

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Poem: War On Christmas

War On Christmas
  
“It’s wartime on Christmas,” says the charlatan voice
Reveling in tantrums instead of godly rejoice
Each year like clockwork comes the passionate fury
The attack on what’s “holy” in their self-righteous glory

In a nation three-quarters Christian it is hard to conceive
As to who’s actually threat to exactly what to believe
Perpetuation of fraud lies at root of the frenzy
To whip up the masses, requires indignation aplenty

For where is the gospel in these preachers of lying?
Lacking of love holds intolerant plying
Demanding that all must comply to their stricture
Unbending beliefs seem quite removed from the scripture
The populace shopping to capitalistic vulgarity
Where is the outcry to our moneyed depravity?
And all of the symbols from a pagan’s beginning
Since no origin in Jesus, is a Christmas tree sinning?

The truth is the message is meant to divide us with hate
The fake war on Christmas:  Deceive … Inculcate
It is all an illusion by the worst of the lot
The one thing assured; any God they’ve forgot

 Copyright SGW 2013

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Nelson Mandela

I have always felt that it is somewhat excessive when we make a big deal out of the death of famous people. Plenty of "regular" people die every day, too, and many of them were good, caring, decent people who made a difference in the world that will be lasting and positive.

Today, though, Nelson Mandela, has passed and the world has lost something it has rarely held. Nelson Mandela had his flaws and warts, I am sure. However, we would all be hard-pressed to find many people who have lived a life that was so given to good works, noble causes and decency. Mandela sacrificed much of his own life and pleasure for a greater good. In doing so, he never seemed to succumb to hatred, loss of dignity or corruption of even the slightest bit. Hopefully, he has left a path for not only South Africans, but all of us, that shows how we should live with each other and treat each other.

There are few people from history who I genuinely consider heroic. Nelson Mandela was one of those people, and I am truly saddened by his passing because I miss knowing that I share this world with such a great person.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Poem: Red Molly

Red Molly (Red Molly)
  
Harmonious beauty from angelical sounds
The rhythmic flowing of the music astounds
Eyes closed in wonder as the notes cast their charm
Melodious ocean of these songbirds disarm

The healing vibrations breathe a life-giving force
A three-part performance is the stage and the source
Warming of spirit can be felt in their presence
For the purest of pleasures, represent the quintessence

The listener leaves nourished with remarkable calm
Sustained by the power of mellifluous balm
Which finds me next morning with this pad and this pen
Inspired to writing ‘til I hear them again



Copyright SGW 2013



Sunday, October 27, 2013

Poem: Fanatics

Fanatics
  
Fear takes its measure in infinite shaping
An ignorant basis there can be no escaping
Intolerant, fanatic, often religiously zealous
Cling to a panic that is fervently jealous

Limited thinking is the fabric it’s sown
Science discarded, fact-based reason disowned
Blindly accepting carnival barker’s lament
They preach as if righteous; somehow heavenly sent

They can only find comfort in what their mirrors reflect
Frightened by difference; twisted cause and effect

Racism bred from an uncertain dread
“Brown people coming and a black as our ‘head’”
Create boogeyman government to nourish their story
The more they can fear then the more to their glory

Twisted and tangled in deformity of view
The fear’s all they know, so they mindlessly do
  

Copyright SGW 2013

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Poem: Nothing

Nothing

Clock ticks
Counting down windows of opportunity
Until the squeeze is felt
It pinches
Chokes
And it leaves one with vanquished resolve

The aloneness is palpable
Any promise, but a lie’s nom de guerre
Eventually waking up
Taking in reflections
Seeing nothing
Nothing
Nothing at all

Some clouds have no silver lining
They are dark, wide and threatening
And when the rains come
They’ve always come
The torrent never relents

Copyright SGW 2013


Saturday, August 10, 2013

Poem: Pocono Mountain Morning



Pocono Mountain Morning

Pocono Mountain morning
Heavy rain beats down on roof above
Brushing and splattering upon the green scenery on display

Watch droplets on the window
Listen to the pat, pat, pattering
Kayaks sit idly for now
Near the sweeping waters aroused by the storm

Breathe in the morning
Wetness all around purifies the world
And me

Others sleep
I’ll sit in this chair
Shifted to a window’s view
Writing
That’s what I do

Copyright SGW 2013

Friday, August 2, 2013

Poem: Counsel


Counsel

Awash in emotions long-contained deep within
This perilous path must dig deep ‘neath the skin
The hiding in masks only serves to benumb
And parts need all parts to equate to the sum
Fear is the riddle ever twisting of thought
You’ve been found passing by what’s forever been sought
Where often the journey leaves indelible mark
The lessons of scars can be blessedly stark
Travel in circles, sometimes roads know no end
A map has been laid … and the world will amend
Answers yield questions too numerously given
The perfectly placed left subconsciously riven
The crossroads are met with a reckoning glance
Left yet unwritten – walk away or advance?

Copyright SGW 2013

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Khaled Hosseini: "And The Mountains Echoed"

This is not a review.  How could I presume to review Khaled Hosseini?  The author of "A Thousand Splendid Suns" and the classic "The Kite Runner," has now given the world "And The Mountains Echoed."

Whether the details of his previous stories remain whole or in part, the essence of Hosseini's work lingers.  It is alive and well again, in "And The Mountains Echoed," as he bring another tale centered around Afghanistan; a country for most of us that is nothing more than "the place where terrorists were and a lot violence remains."

Again, this is not a review; just some random thoughts I find myself holding after finishing reading the book only moments ago.  Hosseini's gift is the ability to bring to the pages extreme pains and hardships, yet blend in an unexplained peacefulness and serenity.  Then, in the tears of beautiful interweavings of life that yield promises that life has heart, hope and love, even within all the struggles, there is also the subtle, stubborn aching.

I loved "A Thousand Splendid Suns."  It is a story of incredible honesty.  It hurts and feels good at once.  As I cried my way through the final 50 or so pages, ultimately ending in a place of calm, sorrow, bitterness, warmth ... life, I am aware that it will be several days before I can even consider reading something else.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Poem: Storms



Storms

Storm on horizon is warning
Darkest of skylines now forming
Calm does not mask what soon beckons
Illy prepared will be reckoned

The heart, it can pulse through disaster
Rhythmic beat ever faster
But can hearts be alive acquiescing
To the death of the void coalescing

Wreckage is strewn all-surrounding
Listen for faintest of pounding
A mixture of living and dying
Spilled milk cares not for your crying

Copyright SGW 2012

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Poem: Dreaming of Mr. Rogers

Dreaming of Mr. Rogers

The story's from my youthful days
Recurring dream whose memory stays
Not bent of anger or violent mind
I more was mild and rather kind
The dream still lingers, is yet to fade
It's time I tell through poem laid

Of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
His virtues clear and understood
The scene is set with common thread
The homespun den, the sweater red
With sneakers tied and smiling bright
Yet strangely see was late at night
A knocking door, his head had turned
Who could it be would soon be learned

A lion stood upon the rise
A flowing mane and fiercest eyes
And poor old Fred with panicked feel
No make believe, but lion's meal
  

Copyright SGW 2006


Footnote:   Based on an actual, recurring dream I had well into my twenties.  I know, I have a twisted side.