Posted on December 17, 2019 by admin

 

 

Short Nights

SHORT NIGHTS, LONG DAYS

Short nights, long days.
They’ll make you long and lean
And hungry, like yon Cassius.

They’ll wake your temper short,
Earn distrust from the many.

That long day’s night makes life a fright
Your eyes will be bright, but not your sight;

And so, like Caesar, I sleep unwell at night,
Fearing the omens of Fate a-hovering in the air,

Fearing that my words may be misconstrued,
My intentions misinterpreted, so touchy are
The people in these unquiet days. Their eyes,
I see their eyes a-scanning and their brains
Accounting scores that do not exist. Such
Are the times we live in, dear conscience.

Ah! Beware the readings of the entrails…

Beware of bad-mouthing friends, lest friends
Turn on you. So says my inner think.
Suspicion scorned, suspicion invented,
Suspicion hanging about, despite my better
Thoughts. Ha! Keeping score. A thought
Unwell, my friend. Amend that thought.

Thus runneth amok the thoughts of man
Ever attempting yet ever fighting
Ever contradicting self,
To be the better man.

Long days, short nights.
Beware the ides of life.

Balance. Find the balance…

— CAESAR
(aside to ANTONY) Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
(1950) He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
ACT I scene 2

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

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I Found a Dime

Posted on December 9, 2019 by admin

 

I Found a Dime

I Found a Dime

H. W. Bryce

 

I found a dime on the street today,

I heard a tinkle bell chime,

I took them both as lucky charms,

And I wore my heart upon my arms.

 

These arms, they are for hugging,

And sometimes also for lugging,

And these lips, they are for kissing

And throwing kisses to the missing.

 

It’s not hard to remember that hug that you gave to me,

It’s not easy to forget that feeling I felt in your arms.

 

Oh, how highly do I value your trust and your love,

You have me singing like that biblical dove.

 

I wish for you this day and far beyond,

Good wishes and good luck with a tinkle bell,

A lucky dime and pearly times, a lifetime bond,

True faith and wisdom to make your heart swell.

 

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

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Posted on December 4, 2019 by admin

 

The magic is in you

The Magic is in You

H. W. Bryce

Little children believe in magic,
Some adults do, too.
Everybody should believe in magic,
’Cause the magic… is in you.

You may not believe, but it’s true,
You have the magic inside of you.
Look back for signs you may have missed
And feel the moments you have been kissed….

Be bold, be generous, make your magic
In the lives that you know and meet,
Be true to your heart, grow the love
That is in the spirit of magic.

When you see a need you must react,
You want to help, you find a way,
For the spirit’s alive inside of you,
Because the magic… is in you.

You are a magic person,
you have the magic inside of you
You do not need a magic wand
You have a magic heart, stand.

Opportunity is fickle and it will jump
Here and there and everywhere, like my rhyme,
So be nimble and be quick, be you!
Jump in with the magic you have inside of you.

Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Caring, Love, Magic, Poem | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Tempest in a Teapot

Posted on November 28, 2019 by admin

 

Tempest in a Teapot

TEMPEST IN A TEAPOT

H. W. Bryce

A disagreement is a tempest in a teapot
A fight, a murder, is a storm
An argument over little things is but a high wind
Blowing and can be measured as a norm.

To not forgive is to stir the tempest, blow the waves
Higher, over the rim of the tea cup.

To harbor a grudge is to leave the tea leaves
A mess in the bottom of the cup, your fortune
Too confused to read. Be calm. Make a better
Cup of tea.- stir gentle tea in pot, be sure
It settles quiet in the teacup.

Yes.
Life is a tempest in a teacup,
It’s either boiling hot or growing
Cold and you become either
Meek or wild. Sometimes a cold
wind blows, and who knows,
you might be that tempest;
and sometimes that cloud of
hot steam may soothe you and
you might be tempted to lay
back from life for a while.

In the scheme of Eternity,
Life is but a blink; long time
To us, an iota, a mote in the
Eye of Infinity. Life goes on,
But not for us. Invest wisely
In the short time that you have.

Love well, give generously,
Take only what you need and pay it on.
Live with respect for all,
Dignity for self and others,
Leave a lively legacy.
And all the while, ride the waves
Of this tempest in the little teapot of life.

A cup of tea, a quiet hour,
Alee of the tempest storm.
Such respite ought to be
absolute daily norm,
For sure enough another
Storm is absolutely sure to come.
Ride the storm.

A tempest in a teacup is no excuse
To cut the ties that bind. You may
Disagree without drawing out the knives.
Take is all as a great adventure
And ride those stormy waves to
The ultimate shore, the Cove of Peace.

So go ahead, share a cuppa,
A pact of peace and tranquility.

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Hearts and Flowers

Posted on November 21, 2019 by admin

Hearts and Flowers

My Memorial Day Hangover

Every day is Memory Day
Do not walk away from the cenotaph and forget your duty until next year.
The struggle for peace, worldwide, local, person to person and in your heart,
Is a daily task. Walk lightly and carry peace in your heart
To share. Otherwise, we will continue to kill Mother Earth.
And then what?
There is no known planet fit to accept us, or able to hold all of us.
Do not let this tragedy happen.
Listen to the scientists.
Act now
For Peace.

Hearts and flowers seduce the soul
And when I die, place them on my tomb,
Carry them in your womb, give birth
Anew, these few gifts of ours, let them bloom
Loud and proud, hearts and flowers, no dearth,
Like a clarion call To Arms, To Arms, embrace
The arms of discord, melt the heart of hate,
Keep this date with Destiny, where is felt
The full force of concord. Tighten your belt
of resolve place our faith where love is felt.

Lay the hearts and flowers in peaceful rest
At the foot of graves of the the braves
Who fought to defend the morals and the
Morale of the besieged by the evil ones.
Grow the flowers of peace, grow your heart
In and for love and peace, go, arm in arm.

Remember the ill and failing, recall
The caring carers, support the mourners,
Encourage the stumblers, the short and tall.
Plant the flowers, grow your heart, fill the bill.

Image may contain: flower and plant
Richard Doiron, Barry Plamondon and 34 others
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  • Niharika Naik What a beautiful poem !! I felt its murmuring so close to my soul.My heart covered with colourful flowers and only flowers..lt was so peaceful!We need a planet full of love and peace. No violence no cruelty ..only peace and peace.You have created an aura dear poet.lt is amazing.Hats off to you and to your stunning verse.With heartfelt regards.
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      Herb W Bryce Dear Niharika, you are so kind. Thank You with Bells on!!! Your words lift my spirits. Bless you, dear friend. ❤️❤️❤️🦋🦋🦋
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  • Marie Geral Beautiful poem Herb
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  • Cecilia Parkinson I have posted this to all on my list!
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      Herb W Bryce Holy Wow Cecilia. Just WOW!!! and thanks ever. Hugs and kisses. ❤️❤️❤️🦋🦋🦋❤️❤️❤️
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    Herb W Bryce To Benedixio Moore Khoti, my thanks to you, friend. May your future be bright. 🦋🦋🦋🦋
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Posted on November 21, 2019 by admin

AN IMMIGRANT COMES

Think of it as a sports team, manager
Brings in new blood to bolster the strength of
The team. New blood to contribute to the
Success of the team. And let all present
Fight that much harder for success. Team
Work, together we win, but, of course, apart
We’re gonna fail. Common truth. This we know.

Drop the puck. Play ball. On with the game. Go.

—

Some words jotted while Remembrance Day was interrupted by the firing of our famous hockey commentator for alleged racist comments on immigrants not wearing remembrance poppies. That was the story.
There is a better poem buried in there somewhere.
Can you write It?

Stephen Karr, Barry Plamondon and 13 others
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Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Discrimination, Immigrant, Peace, Poem, Wanderers | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on

Posted on November 9, 2019 by admin

 

ONCE WE WERE SOLDIERS

H. W. Bryce

Once we were soldiers, now we are not.

We were wounded. we died;
Now it is trouble is all that we got.

Once we fought on the battleground,
Now we fight the battle at home.
We sleep on sidewalks, cardboard
For sheets, pillows of newspaper domes.

Stuff that we gathered we carry for trade.

Once we got free cigarettes,
Now we scramble for butts on the ground…
This is the booty of freedom we’ve found.

The contract is broken, our faith tossed aside;
We agreed to fight for you, for our nation’s pride,
You agreed to “hold and to keep” us in times of peace.

But here we all are, no tent for our keep,
Only lonely old sidewalks and eyes that peep
As we straggle along, no longer in step,
No pride and no hope and broken hard sleep.
Oh, king and country, we stood on guard for thee…
Where now is your compassion for we
Who stood at arms and fired the gun?
When the enemy threatened, we did not run…
Once we were soldiers, who stood proud and tall.

Once we were soldiers, we stood so proud and so tall!
We marched into battle, our nerves did not rattle,
We stood up to barrages, we saw comrades fall,
We prevailed through skirmishes, we won that war’s battle…

Brother, can you spare me some time? I’d like to talk it all over,
Find me some peace for a while inside. I have these cold nightmares
Inside where I live, no house or no home, cardboard for a bed…
An hour, a meal, hot coffee and I’ll tell you my tale,
Just please, if you just give me some time.

Once we were soldiers, we marched with such pride,
We stood so tall, and you favoured us then;
Why have you forsaken your favourite sons?
You say you will help; we’re asking you, when?

—

I salute all veterans from all services this November 11, 2019.
Thank you all.

Inspiration for my poem, and its title, courtesy of Once We Were Soldiers, a charity organization in Coalville, United Kingdom, which is dedicated to serving homeless veterans.

They are at https://www.facebook.com/OWWSoldiers/

Only now, last week of October, 2019, some 75 years after the close of the Second World War, do we hear about a 35-unit village specifically for the homeless vets, in Calgary, soon to open.

And yet, the vets still don’t think they deserve it.

My sincere and loving thanks to my cousin Cecilia Parkinson for sending me the Once We Were Soldiers website.

We remember her grandfather, who fought in the First World War, and her father Wilfrid and his brother Dick, who fought in the Second World War.

I salute my Dad, Leslie Herbert Bryce, and two of his brothers, Ray and Alfred, who fought in the Second World War.

THANK YOU All Veterans.

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