Portrait of a Mood

Posted on March 12, 2021 by admin

 

PORTRAIT OF A MOOD

Portrait of a mood

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Her face reflects a melancholy mood,

Thoughtful, gentle, kindness of soul, exudes

Patience and love, rejuvinations.

Her face is a portrait of peace.

 

Slowly, she reawakens from her thoughtful

Mood. Slowly, each limb unrelaxes,

Slowly, she rises, stretches, throws her head

Back, inhales, then, slightly shakes her lithesome

Body back to life, and goes forth. Zen

moment released, The power of zen

walking with her.

 

Her soft voice speaks, “Coming darling.”

Slowly, she paces into the bedroom

Where, lying in bed blinking, her mother

Reaches out open arms to welcome

Her loving daughter, whom she thinks is an

Angel come from heaven to take her away,

Away from the misery of this dread disease

That is punishing her because she is

A bad person. She thinks. Tears stream gently

down her wrinkled face. And the lithesome lady

With the melancholy face, enters her

Care giving self, with loving devotion,

Her face a portrait of a mood.

A mood of peace within.

 

Thoughtful.  Pensive. Devoted.

Love.

 

Mother smiles.

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People Just Rattle On

Posted on March 12, 2021 by admin

 

People just rattle on

PEOPLE JUST RATTLE ON

 

Red mini comp Spt 27-
Prompted by my missing things, like #s and names in e.g. newscasts
and I thought I could hear, but I miss details, while people just rattl on.

Co-incidentally, I had just submitted to Rattle Poetry, in which I said

About missing ticking a box in the submission form:

My second submission (the first didn’t go), the tick had moved on, as tics do!

 

People, me included, sometimes tend to blurt. Ooops.

 

People Just Rattle On

 

Blu mini comp Nov 23-Dec 23-19

 

People just rattle on, about this and that,

Inadvertently revealing their biases as they

state and restate, and repeat, their own POV

things through!

                      

People gather round every day.

People in cafes. Coffee shops are

Filled with them,

People who just rattle on with

Gossip, news, jokes, et al.

They fill the days with it, the need

For connection, the desire for

Fellowship, a way to fill a mystic

Emptiness, for respite from the need

To fill every crack in every day with work,

Concern for their own success…

 

They feel the need to putty over

The cracks in their windshields of

Progress, band aid their weaknesses…

 

And so, they just rattle on, feeding off

The glazed responses reflecting back

At them, blinding them from the windshield

washer solution they doubt will clear

their vision…

 

Sometimes, though, when a person

Need medical help, perhaps serious surgery,

Or has lost a loved one to disease or disaster,

The rattle is welcome balm and helps to shake

The person out of it and into a calmer state.

 

Yeah, sometimes when people just rattle on,

It helps.

 

Sometimes this gift of the gab can be

Channelled.

Sometimes, it just means

I love you.

 

—H. W. Bryce

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All People

Posted on February 17, 2021 by admin

 

All people become brothers

“All people become brothers

Where your gentle wing rests.”

—Ode to Joy by Beethoven

Now join the women in their choir of peace

Ye men who march off to war

To make a living killing fellow men.

What a way a living to make!

Pity the slaughtered you leave behind

In your wake, pity those they leave behind.

 

— —

 

Calling all souls that are tired and weary.

When your spirit is used and feeling dreary,

Retire your weapons and pick up your good will.

Pass on a compliment, hold your heart still

Let “All people become brothers.”

 

Come forth and join us, sing in our choir,

No one is to pay, no one is for hire,

Membership voluntary, love for a fee;

In return, my friend, all hugs are free

“Where your gentle wing rests.”

 

When you let yourself down and want to cry,

Don’t know how to let your bygones go by,

Join the choir, forgive yourself and live again,

All are welcome in the brotherhood glen.

Let “All people become brothers.”

 

We, the Brotherhood of Man, hand in hand,

Hear our hearts sing, one universal band,

Each singing our part, together greater than each,

Each an essential part of the whole, the whole world to teach.

 

For “All people become brothers

Where your your gentle wing rests.”

 

—H. W. Bryce

 

 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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Courage

Posted on February 9, 2021 by admin

 

Courage needed

COURAGE

H. W. Bryce

–from Chasing a Butterfly
–Alzheimer’s or Coronavirus, courage is needed.
–I wrote this during my  wife’s struggle with Alzheimer’s

–Readers have found it helpful

 

When adversity calls

(and you don’t have the balls)

And the world gets into your face

And makes your heart increase its pace

And your body screams “time to take flight”

‘Cause you’re too scared to fight—

It’s time to take hold of your courage

 

When the fates are against you and winning

And you’re the one who’s taking a skinning

And the tunnel looks black

And you yearn to go back

But the world won’t let (you) go

And you know repercussion will flow—

It’s time for the birth of your courage

 

For your courage will save you from that

If you fight for the victory hat

For proofing from such evil diversity

Is taught in life’s big university

And you learn by the practice of valour

And you gain respect and esteem and power—

Yes it’s time to call on your courage

 

So come on all you timids and hear,

It’s no shame to be feeling the fear,

Remember that facing it full

And fighting in spite of its pull

Is exactly the meaning of valour

And there’s salvation in practising valour—

So walk right up and show the beggars your courage

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Posted on February 9, 2021 by admin

 

The Brush Pile

H. W. Bryce

Some people saw the symbolism of the

‘brush pile’ bulldozer residue, ‘waste,’

From clearing the land for farms. In the

piles of driftwood washed out to sea

and washed back upon the shor int

random piles.

 

It was

USA inaugural day, a new president

Come to sweep out the detritus of the old.

And they were right.

 

But

I saw beauty in the piles of broken,

Stacked up tree limbs, and roots.

 

I saw death and destruction,

I saw renewal, reconstruction,

I saw greed and I saw goodness,

I saw the darkness, but I saw

The Light peeping through.

 

I saw the worst in men,

And I saw the best in men.

There it all was, pushed aside, piled

Up high, waiting for the match to

Light up the revolution.

 

I saw Adam and Eve there in their Eden,

I saw the serpent and the end of Eden.

 

And yet…

And yet…

 

There was the Evil brought down by God

And Goodness shall prevail in all the days of our lives.

 

I shall follow the light.

 

—

 

It was a vast and endless land

And I saw so many brush piles

Left in remembrance of those

Vast and endless forests that

We cleared for the farmland,

And left to rot into that rich soil at the

End of the field, ready fertilizer

for the weeds.

 

We were opening up this vast

new land. Its vast new vistas,

to fill (back) up with dreams.

 

I don’t think that we thought much

About the consequences of our

Actions, only about our futures.

After all, this new land was infinite,

And we needed space to plant those

Dreams, to grow crops to feed us, and

To sell to support us as our dreams grew.

 

And we filled them.

What else mattered?

At the time?

We had to survive.

We had not where we came from.

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Tangled Web

Posted on February 9, 2021 by admin

 

Tangled web

TANGLED WEB

 H. W. Bryce

 

“What a tangled web we weave when at first

we start to deceive.”* Learning to Dissemble

at our fathers’ knees to bulldoze giant trees

and leave a pile of tangled roots and thirst.

 

But through it all, there is a chink of light

that lets the sun shine through upon the dust,

reveals the rust that sits upon our blemish—

IF we are wise enough to heed that light.

 

There is beauty in the pyre of death

as phoenix flames renew fire of the soul

to burn on as shepherds for the fire of good

to fight for right, even to your dying breath.

 

Life should be more than a pile of rubble.

Let us resolve our efforts to redouble.

— —

My sincere thanks to Xenia Tran at www.whippetwisdom.com

For her remarkable photgraph and haibun, and for her generous

Permission to use this picture, which inspired this poem.

 

* NOTE— The quote “Oh what a tangled web we weave when at first we start to deceive” is not by Shakespeare but by Walter Scott in his poem “Marmion.” It refers to the effects of lying and how as one lie leads to more the lies multiply, and we become trapped in the dishonesty.

 

(Alas Humans!)Tangled web

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All My Memories

Posted on January 20, 2021 by admin

 

ALL MY MEMORIES

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Grn mini Nov 18/20 –

Inspired by the winners’ poem in Poetry London

 

As I remember it, I was ten feet tall,

The strongest man on earth,

And there was never any dearth of things

To do; and we did the ‘wellest’ of them

All. I did feats of strength never to be

Forgotten, or surpassed.

 

Yes, I remember this quite clearly.

There was always music accompanying

My feats, music such as Unchained Melody

And Climb Every Mountain. There was

Always the candle wax and the scent

Of the wick burning for atmosphere.

 

Yes, I remember, I was about ten

Years old at the time, and I recalled

Being born…

 

All of my memories these days seem to

Be of my childhood. I remember…

I do not remember if I had breakfast

This morning. I guess I did, for my

Stomach tells me it isn’t hungry,

And I don’t remember the taste.

And my body says these aches cannot be

Childhood arthritis, though it sure feels

Like it is.

 

I remember I wanted to grow up

To be a teacher. I wonder if I did.

Hard to tell. The silence is deafening.

For sure, I am still on the hunt for new

Cliches to invent and to teach to the

People. Hard to tell, my memory

Being stuck in my childhood like this.

 

Still, it is quite agreeable, being

Young all the time. So much to look for-

Ward to, and no worries about that work-

Ing thing my adults are always griping

About; no need for money, no need not

To play. Food is free, and frequent. I like

That. I like the desserts the best, al-

Though, I can’t eat them now…

 

Oh! Excuse me. They tell me they have to

Measure me for my coffin now. I guess

They’ve made up a new game for me. They are

Always doing that. They have already

Lit the incense…

So, so long, for now. See you next time…don’t

Forget…

 

https://pixabay.com/photos/man-child-baby-grandfather-grandpa-3552247/

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