Mysterious Man

Posted on June 14, 2021 by admin

 

Mysterious man pic

MYSTERIOUS MAN

June 14, 2021

In light of the ethno-religious London, Ont., murder by vehicle recently, this poem, which I posted a year ago August, seems eminently relevant today.

I am African, I am Asian,

I am Caucsian, Hindu, Turk,

I am Muslim, Christian, Jew,

—I am so very much like you.

 

I am love and I’m compassion

I am hate, I’m destruction,

I am jealousy, I am rage,

I am in life’s middle stage,

—I am so very much like you.

 

I am French and I am Yankee,

I am rebel and I’m friend,

I am Algerian, I am Cockney,

I’m Canuck and I am Orkney,

—I am so very much like you.

 

Today is not our yesterday,

Our yesterday’s thinking

is now so very passé,

Yet our todays and our yesterdays

Seem to be so much the same,

Yours and ours. What a game.

We must get to know each other better,

Day by progressive day,

For we are so very much alike.

 

Take the mystery out, talk face to face,

Shake each other’s hand,

Wouldn’t it be grand?

Forgive each other, start anew.

What a view.

 

I am person; so are you.

I have compassion; so have you.

I love my family, you love yours.

I love travel, you take tours.

My heart bleeds for lives wrong taken,

You weep for your people all forsaken.

 

We can agree, the brotherhood cliche is true.

Together now, “I’m so very much like you.”

 

—H. W. Bryce

 

Image by HeungSoon from Pixabay

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All quiet on the news front

Posted on June 14, 2021 by admin

 

All Quiet on the news front

for June 7, 2021

H. W. Bryce

 

All is quiet on the airwaves

Not a word of news of the day

Nothing about the big event

On this anniversary day,

An event that turned the world around,

The big event that, in fact,

Saved the world from itself,

From ourselves, us, we, the Humans,

The so-called adults in the animal kingdom.

 

Lest we forget? JUNE 6, 1942.

We have indeed forgot

Forgot the war to end all wars

Forgot the           entire WWII

Forgot the vets, forgot the dead

Forgot the women they wed

 

Forget D-Day? How careless

That you/we have lost the thread of

Our mutual history, forgot the hate

That ruled then – do we still remember

The concept of hate today? Maybe. Little

Wars keep happening.

Are we really so busy navel gazing that

We have lost our memory, our link to

Actual progress, as Humans? Are we

So stuck on ourselves that we have broken

The ribbon from there to here? Are we

Really willing to repeat the spectacle?

We SAY not, but do we remember?

 

Alas, D-Day. Sadly forgot. Not a word

On the news before today, today, so most

Certainly, not tomorrow. Whole generations

Growing up without the knowledge of how

Evil Humans can be? Forgot that to forget

Your history, you are destined to repeat it?

Lest we forget.

Alas.

We appear to have forgot.

For all is quiet on the news front.

Another tradition has died.

A victim fallen to progress,

Another break in the chain of faith of men.

And we say Rest in Peace

To the tomb of the unknown soldier.

Alas.

There was no news today.

No remembrance.

So sorry.

This is Herbert Leslie Bryce

My Dad

 

 

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Time on a Rocket

Posted on June 14, 2021 by admin

 

 

TIME ON A ROCKET

Time on a rocket pic                                                             READ AT POETS CORNER MA for May 31, 2021 *

 

H. W. Bryce

 

As usual, I have got left behind

As technology has pushed forward

In leaps and bounds, by which I

Take it, bounds are longer than

Leaps.

 

Time is just walkin’ past me.

I am getting older and slower,

He is getting younger and faster.

Don’t know what his hurry is,

But he refuses to wait for me.

 

And I’m sitting on an airline

At the rear of row on row

Of similar seats, all filled

By similar travellers with

Similar needs and wants and fears.

 

And now we are floating in space,

Along with Earth’s own satelite debris

And useless shit that once made

Humans comfortable, down there,

With its once sparkling oceans and seas

And once pure rivers now filled

With dead fish and plastics…

 

And now we are headed for Mars,

That once mysterious bald planet

Recently seconded as a desert refuge

For us failed humans, who hadn’t

The wit to respect the fragility of home!

 

Space debris streaks by like close-up

Shooting stars that threaten to annihilate

Our inconsequential little ship. So

Magnificent they were, as seen from

Mother Earth, but startlingly frightening

Six metres from your window by your

Satellite seat as they rocket along,

Assembling like a vindictive,

Revengeful Army of Destruction.

 

Yes, time is just walkin’ past me as I sit

Shedding my memories as it speeds ahead,

Burning my history, erasing me from

My own relevance, even as I spit spiteful

Objections…

 

 

The rocket burns out

Pfft! There goes all memory

of me…and my kind…

 

Ah! But…

Must not while away my day

Must achieve something today

 

 

Must become part of the fray

Fighting for Peace this day

 

—while reading Rattle chapbook Adjusting the Light by Tom. C. Humley, of 2020

Image by ImaArtist from Pixabay

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Glorious Purpose

Posted on May 24, 2021 by admin

 

Glorious Purpose

GLORIOUS PURPOSE

 

“We are busy working all day ‘burdened with glorious purpose.’ ”

—Dr. Jed Bishop, in Transplant, TV series, Nov 29-20

 

 

Busy is as busy does and busy never stops,

Being busy means we never can relax,

Our actions then become robotic and futile,

Then ebbs the will and the soul begins to die.

 

We work our butts away day after day

To earn our daily bread and pay our way,

Tit’s for tat and quid’s pro quo, at least upon

The surface as we work to Purpose Glorious.

 

But after all and in the end, what meaning does it have?

Rent is paid, family’s fed, we stand in goodly stead.

All the rest is pseudo glamour, trimmings off the tree.

What ultimately counts in life is that we’re free.

 

And when do we learn that life is not for competition,

Not the score of gold, the one up on your neighbour,

The fights we fought to win is empty victory,

It is to rise up off the mat, a goodly one to be.

 

All we need to justify, the measure of our soul.

If to count is counting all our goodly deeds,

All we really need to prove is the purpose

In our daily gift of glory that we be.

 

—H. W. Bryce

 

Image by Enlightening Images from Pixabay

 

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No Such Thing

Posted on May 20, 2021 by admin

 

No such thing

NO SUCH THING

 

 

The month of May is Walk for Alzheimer’s month.

 

“I thought I was prepared for her leaving the final time. I guess that’s not a real thing, being prepared. I miss her so much. “

–Robin Stewart Stone, grieving for her mother, lost to Alzheimer’s.

 

NO SUCH THING

 

H. W. Bryce

 

I thought I was prepared for her leaving,

I had said so many goodbyes, I miss her so much.

I guess that is not a real thing, being prepared.

 

“I thought I was prepared for her leaving,

She had been ailing for so long that I had

Become inured to the pain. I had said so.

 

I had said so many goodbyes, I miss her so much.

I miss her strength, her love and hugs, and such.

I miss our times in the kitchen, our coffee cups.

 

“I guess that is not a real thing, being prepared.

For with her goodbye sigh, I was broken and crushed.

I wept like an injured animal in a trap.

 

“I thought I was prepared for her leaving,

I even stopped visiting for a week

Just to prove it to myself, but I love her so.

 

I had said a thousand goodbyes, I miss her so much.

It’s the little things that grab me, reduce me to tears,

The way she fussed me without fussing, nursed the pups.

 

“I guess that is not a real thing, being prepared.

For try as I will, try as I might I wear the mourner’s cap.

I guess motherly love is an eternal embracing trap.

 

I thought I was strong, I thought I would last,

I thought I was prepared for that final goodbye,

But my heart broke with her farewell sigh.

I try so hard, I pray and practice, but I miss her so.

I guess that is not a real thing, being prepared.

I guess for all of eternity, we’re ever paired.

— —

Image from Pixabay (free photos, with thanks)

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Life and Death

Posted on May 8, 2021 by admin

 

Life and death

Life and Death

 

Life and death and death and life

Gone the elegant mother tree that

Stood so proud and long, giving

The breath of life and receiving the

strangulation of the ivy but living on.

Her leafy arms reached out in loving

Embrace of all who lived in this park

That was not a park because the city

Sold it to developers.

 

She sheltered the raccoon family,

Hosted nests of birds, Jays and Starlings

and Wrens; she welcomed the black and

gray scampering squirrels, smiled upon

the Robins, watched over generations of

cawing Crows; and she was a most gracious

hostess to we few, we fortunate humans

who live here next door and beyond who

cherish her presence and the presence

of the other trees and shrubs and the green,

green grass that thrives so bountifully

below, along with the cheerful yellow of

the dandelions.

 

A small army came and hacked her to death.

They cut her off t the waist. What waste!

 

Now she’s gone, and while the vista has

Opened up incredibly, so has my grief in

Losing her. In some sort of compensation,

The magnolia trees are magnificent this

Year, alike the May Trees, and the Oak.

 

I weep for you, my old friend.  Gone soon, too,

Will be the park, to be mown down in clear

Cut, gouged deeply as a well and built upon

To carry the weight of civilization in a six-

Storey structure that will have no soul.

 

Gone my daily commune with Nature. Gone

My sunrises, and me left to stare at a close-

Up blank wall—me and my five neighbours

With windows to the East. Somewhere out

There, Christ was born and Man was supposed

To behave…

 

—H. W. Bryce

 

Photo by H. W. Bryce

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Not Much in Favour

Posted on April 26, 2021 by admin

 

Not much in favour...

NOT MUCH IN FAVOUR

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Not much in favour I am of disasters.

I don’t much like them at all. They don’t do much

In the way of a good life, and don’t do much

To make life any better at all.

 

Given a choice, I would vote against all forms

Of disaster. Disasters are not my favourite thing.

And besides, disasters make such a mess,

They put you to such a test and what for?

Disasters make a mess of us, and are hard

To recover from. Disasters are just dumb.

 

Disasters are a waste of my effort,

I’m not a supporter of them at all.

I fail to see any good in them; they can’t

Support a gala ball. They’re less than highly

Educated; they can’t hardly even think,

Let alone reason deep. Disasters stink.

 

Be compassionate, loving and true.

It’s up to you to be human, despite

The long noses and down beats of

The disaster. The ones they hurt

Are going to be needing you.

 

So, for sure I’m not much in favour

Of disasters, I don’t much like them at all.

 

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Pic is  I don’t much like disasters

 

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