The Forest

Posted on April 26, 2021 by admin

 

The forest...

THE FOREST

 

H. W. Bryce

 

The forest thrives, grows and goes on for miles.

Its beauty lights up the satellite’s window for

The encircling astronauts              whose food supplies

Are almost bankrupt.

This vast green of trees was their home when they

Left it so long ago. So swiftly the forest grew.

Now there is no human pollution to cripple it.

 

Where have all the smoke stacks gone?

Where the diesel engines, the long haul

Trucks – the truckers? It all looks so peaceful

Down there. This was their home. They lived

And breathed fresh air down there; they worked

And played and loved and LIVED down there.

 

The satellite’s last oxygen tank splutters,

Fizzles…out. Pfffft! The astronauts exchange

Their love for each other. Their communication

Links all remain silent, even of comforting static.

The astronauts’ last words hang there                     in space.

 

For all of time’s

continuum.

 

The forest lives.

 

IMMAG:  https://www.facebook.com/swapna.behera.315

 

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Long Distance, Loss, Lost, Love, Poem | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

My Life is Weatherbound

Posted on April 15, 2021 by admin

 

MY LIFE IS WEATHERBOUND

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Red mini comp of Feb 21/21

My life is weatherbound.

First, the snow, then the rain,

The frost, the sleet, the hail, the sun.

Can’t get free of this weather.

 

How am I?

I am weather bound.

It’s always there.

When it storms, I must stay in;

When it suns, I bake.

Two days are never the same.

–sometimes the weather dictates

My mood: During a storm, I brood;

During the sunshine, I tend to shine.

Much like Shakespeare’s characters.

Weather and witches rule.

For sure, my life is weatherbound.

 

My life is whether bound.

Whether I decide to go or come,

Be here or where I’m from,

Go for the old brass ring

Or stay and fight the day’s sting,

Whether I do or do not,

About every little thing.

Whether I love you,

Or if I am just smitten and I do.

Whether I am up or upside down.

For sure, my life is whetherbound.

 

Whether I live by the weather

Or live by my life depends upon

Whether I can weather the storms

Outside and the storms within,

Stick to my goals or dash off to

The beach, Work on my work/poem/novel

Or work on my tan.

 

Calm the inner storm; brave the outer.

 

My Life is Weatherboundhttps://pixabay.com/photos/street-person-walk-snow-winter-1209401/

 

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Advocacy, Author, Caring, Poem | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Dear Daisy

Posted on April 5, 2021 by admin

 

Dear Daisy: I missed the spring

Dear Daisy

 

From grn mini comp bk Apr9-17—May 4-17

 H. W. Bryce

 

I Missed the Spring this Year

 

I missed the Spring and flowers this year

and life seems so much less magic,

Like being invited to the ball

And not being able to attend.

 

The air was so much poorer

For the lack of their perfume,

Even the pollen in my eyes

Seemed so much thinner this year.

 

The daffodils were late this year,

Their colours were somewhat pale.

The rhododendrons dropped their petals

Far too soon, the roses lost their allure.

 

Love was absent in the air this Spring,

There were no lovers here around,

The scent of love’s affection

Was missing from the atmosphere.

 

The Hyacinth was but a shadow, and

Like the rose that died upon the vine,

The lilac lost its colour, the snowdrops

Failed to show as usual through the snow.

 

The cherry blossoms were not here,

The ground flowers were still under snow.

When the sun will come out again,

There is no way for me to know.

 

Yes, I missed the spring this year,

And for this I must confess, I shed a tear.

The saddest loss of all, the birds I did not hear.

But what I missed the most, you          were not here.

 

 

Given that the Covid has had us all (law-abiders) trapped inside, and Spring was a little late in our parts, I thought I would resurrect my little poem from 2017. I had lost this poem to the mysterious ether, and while I attempted to retrieve it, over and over, it was mostly gone. Only a scrap remained.

So I have reworked it. I thought it apropos.

I hope we can all reunite with our loved ones very soon.

Please be careful out there. And be thoughtful of each other.

 

Image:  https://pixabay.com/en/rose-thorns-bloom-flower-red-297348/

 

 

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Advocacy, Covid, Friendship, Grieving, Poem | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Now that You Have Cried Freedom

Posted on April 5, 2021 by admin

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Grn moni comp of Mar 8/21 –

 

Now that you have cried freedom and lost

OR And now that you are lost

 

Now that you have cried freedom and lost,

Now that you have orated,

Now that you have protested,

Stood up to fire hoses and

Rubber bullets, the batterings,

The bruisings, insults and putdowns,

Now that you still hold your head up

With honest pride – more than the

Perpetrators can say, for such brutality

Is not a given for forgiveness –

What now? How can I help?

 

I cry for your plight

How can I help?

Will a poem in support

Help?

 

It is written that since George Floyd, 1,300 blacks have died in similar brutal attacks.*

*Susan Ormiston in a CBC news report from ‘the battlefield’ in the USA.

 

Now that you have cried freedom,

Endured the slings and arrows of

Unkind humans, you still walk

Tall, honorable you, who has been

Singled out for third class citizen,

Classified as unworthy despite

Your stellar service to your country,

Your family, your work.

 

I cry for your plight. I cry because

You are right, and they are wrong.

They have been gifted with power,

And you have been used. And still

You hold your head up high. Pride

Justified. And although sorely abused,

You teach your children of love and

Of charity, and of peace everlasting.

 

I honour your valour, your ethics,

Your compassion, your sense of duty.

How you hang in there, riot after riot,

Surely is a lesson in humanity.

Though downtrodden, you still believe.

Such faith. Such strength. I can’t

Help but admire you. I should be

So strong. May your God watch

Over you for now and forever.

God speed. Cry Freedom!

 

IMAGE: Pixabay

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Blogging, Caring, Life, Lonely, Poem | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Posted on March 22, 2021 by admin

 

ABOUT MY OPERATION

 

System slowing down

All jammed up

Feeling the pain

Guts are shutting down

Begging for more time

 

Emergency trip to hospital,

Doc says surgery required ASAP.

I panic during prep time

After a lone, long wait for

Suitable donors. Donors

Because my guts need several

New parts. Essentially, they

Are planning a full gut replacement.

 

Finally. Finally, a suitable donor

Declared a match. They wheel us into

Th ER after a brief hello encounter.

I can hardly breathe. Time becomes

The Essence.

 

Then the world turned black.

 

When I regained consciousness,

After the fog cleared, they told me

It was indeed a full gut transplant.

That they ripped mine out and

Threw it away. They

Gave me his, the donor’s, he who

Was dying from fatal injuries in

A motorcycle crash. And parts from

two others, whom I never even saw

 

I had declared that I wanted a goat’s

Gut. But what I got was really

The greatest of all time, anyway.

 

Why oh why didn’t I watch my diet?

Why did I always overload? Well,

The new, slim me sill watch that.

 

Still feel a bit dizzy from it all,

A bit wobbly, and a bit optimistic,

I get the call to be sent home.

I’m ready for the world again.

 

Thanks to Dr. Don.

 

Hello Herb. I’m back.

At your service.

 

—Welcome Home Lapdog One.

I’ve missed you terribly. I

Couldn’t blog without you.

It was torture. OH, but not

The kind of torture gut

Replacement must have been.
Any way, let’s go to work.

My typing fingers are ready.

I will massage you daily.

 

 

Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay

 

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, author site, Blogging, Humor, Memories, Poem, Remembering, Waiting | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

MISS PICKARD

Posted on March 22, 2021 by admin

 

Herb-Worthing-Pickard

MISS PICKARD

 

Recently, I posted Memory Is on my blog.

This week, well, how is this for a memory?

Early days with Ann. We have one child, a boy.

We are expecting a second child. I decide

It is time to return to Journalism, my Dependable.

I send out applications. I get an offer. Sounds

Good. We move, to Worthing, West Sussex,

On the English Channel.

 

I get to report on City Council. I get to report

Court Proceedings; I get to do general reporting.

I get to stand in for the columnist while he

Is on holiday. And I get to do the Theatre beat.

I loved it all.

 

I cover the school of dance annual concert.

I write a review. I write a balanced review.

I praise what was good; I suggest this and

That about the no-nos, such as the kids

Peering out on the audience between the

Curtains, a practice so frowned upon in the

Theatre world. So amateur!

I can still see them. I still feel my disapproval.

 

That is to say, it is not professional; and if

You are not professional in your activities,

You are not doing it right. No matter your

Status or classification.

 

Well, the picture says it all. The school

Owner, coach, director, took issue with that.

Why, she even went to the lengths of

Writing to the editor about it. Then,

She came to the office to confront me.

Her defence was, “they’re just kids.”

Mine was: “Basic discipline.”

Okay, that was harsh. But, like the dance,

You have to start them young.
I, too, had had to learn not to peek

Through the curtains.

 

I was never chastised by the editors.

 

—H. W. Bryce.

 

See ya.

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, author site, Decisions, Memories, Poem, Remembering | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Memory Is

Posted on March 12, 2021 by admin

 

Memory Is

MEMORY IS…by H. W. Bryce

 

Grn mini comp Feb 21/21 – ……

 

“Memory is a kind of accomplishment…”

            —William Carlos Williams
The Descent……

 

Its tendency is to come and go,

A rise and fall.

Some are at the ready

Awaiting your beck and call,

Some play hide and seek,

Some tease with a furtive peek;

Sometimes they are as a dream,

Sometimes clear,

Sometimes clear as mud.

Sometimes memories are reminders

And they make us cry,

And sometimes, it seems,

The dream factory runs dry.

 

So, to recall a certain memory, clear,

Is a kind of accomplishment,

And, like memory, your chest rises up

With pride;

Then relaxes in descent…

 

Sometimes you forget what the memory meant.

Little memories are little victories,

But they loom large.

 

Think of memory as a muscle.

It needs its exercise.

Memorize a poem,

A song,

 

Make a rousing speech

Verbatim…

 

Accomplish

Memory!

— —

 

I had written in grn mini of Feb 21/21:

.  – for 12 Stages?

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Alzheimer's, Caring, Hope, Inspire, Memory, Poem, Remembering | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment