LIKE A CRICKETER

Posted on October 1, 2019 by admin

LIKE A CRICKETER

H. W. Bryce

Age is Perspective

When you are very young,
You are in awe of all ages.

When you are a teen,
You can’t wait to age…
But you think thirty is old.

When you are thirty,
You think 60 is old.

When you are sixty,
Eighty is what is old.

When you are eighty,
You think to hell with it,
I’m shooting for a hundred.

—
Life is Like Cricket

Now that I’m old, I’m shooting at that goal.
Like a good cricketer, I’m batting for the century.
No rush to speed there, don’t need no record;
Just getting there and checking out the horizon
Will be good.

If it looks promising, set a new goal. Why not?
The perspective of the past wil guide me.
Was it worth the ride? Did I do well?
Can I still contribute? Don’t want to be no burden,
Not to no one. I will cherish each moment,
As I do now. It’s good to be alive! It’s good
To have you with me.

It’s good to have my turn at bat. Everybody deserves
A turn at bat. I wasn’t always ready, shame on me,
But the experience taught me a lot about life anyway.
So, for this turn at bat, I’m shooting for that century.

Image by Lisa scott from PixabayAge is a cricketer

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Advocate, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Caring, Dementia, Poem | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Posted on September 16, 2019 by admin

 

Hallowed Halls

THE HALLOWED HALLS OF MEMORY

H. W. Bryce

The sanctuary of my memories reside

In the hallowed halls of Memory Place,

A library of my life, my loves, my legacy…

A record of my former self, my childood life.

 

But alas, like life itself, troubled times have struck.

It lies in ruins now, abandoned on the hill

Of lost souls and saints, alongside my childhood ways,

Each room empty, each book of memory amolding,

Each memory dribbling out like life aseeping

Underneath the door with all the years gone by.

 

I mount each staircase lost in echoes of the past,

The writing on each step now faded, also lost,

Maybe stolen by the ghosts that will outlast

The memories that I made, sometimes at great cost.

 

Once noble, always reliable, this

palacial edifice now    lost within itself

making love with the / like mistral wind

whooshing through its hallways, rattling the broken

windows, teasing the childish ghosts, make love

with empty spaces where once the memories lived.  lodged

 

Ceilings peeling, walls grafitied. Purpose besmirched

Now a hollow hall, like an empty mind of yore

Sans, memory, sans name, sans          sanctification.

The spiders spin their webs and sup upon      my

Memories

Image: https://pixabay.com/…/urban-urbex-lostplace-abandoned-6282…/

As this is Alzheimer’s Awareness Month, I ask that you pay tribute to all care givers everywhere,

–H. W. Bryce, author of Chasing a Butterfly: A journey in poems of love and loss to acceptance

Posted in Advocate, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Memories, Poem, Remembering | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

YOU CAN’T LIVE IN REGRET

Posted on September 6, 2019 by admin

 

You Can't Live in Regret

H. W. Bryce

 

You can’t live in Regret.

Regret is a mean old town,

It’s full of red necks and hate,

Accusations, self loathing.

It’s an unhealthy milieu,

You will not thrive there.

 

The air is full of static – little

Particles that act like germs —

And they will infect you

Soon as you breathe,

And you will become sad and morose

And your friends will shun you.

 

So, give it a moment, give it a sigh,

And although you really cannot deny,

Step out of its cloud, rejoin the crowd,

Learn from it and live your life out loud.

 

You’ll never regret the saying goodbye

To regret; it isn’t life that you’ll deny,

It’s the sadness and and lethargy that drains

That you’ll overcome; just you think of the gains.

 

 

Do not give up and float down The River of Regret

 

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

Posted in Advocate, Alzheimer's, Author, Care Giving, Caring, Dementia, International Author, Loss, Poem, Remembering | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Smoky Jazz Bar

Posted on September 2, 2019 by admin

 

Smoky Jazz Bar

SMOKY JAZZ BAR

H. W. Bryce

Old-fashioned smoky jazz bar,
After hours, we find a stool at the
Horseshoe counter semi-circling
The stage. The buzz of anticipation
Is physical. The intro act is tinkling
The ivories and the player’s hoarse
Voice is licking each note.

My wife tingles excitement, she who
Loves the chill and the thrill of
Coltraine and Brubeck, Clark Terry
And the Duke and the Count. Tonight
It’s the Count, only it isn’t the Count.

But then the explosion that is Joe
Williams, standing in for the Count,
Who is unaccountably incapacitated…
And the opening strains of the
Count’s band and the sheer beauty
Of it all brings tears to her eyes. To
Hear it alive!

And then Joe steps into the limelight
And then he opens his mouth and
Those unexplainably magnificent
Notes pierce the smoky air and
Hang there, a collective of a
Bravado cloud of sound.

And that saxophone, that magnificent
mellow old beaten up travel-worn saxophone
Wails and moans its jazzy, throaty wail
And the smoky atmosphere dances with the beat,
And worms its way into our very souls;
And the drums pick up where the sax leaves off
And our hearts skip every other beat,
So in love we are.

And Joe’s aide come up behind my Annie
With one single red rose…and presents
It to her. And my Annie is ecstatic, and she
Hopes the sax will never cease wailing
And that Joe will sing to her for ever…

And how sweet was that night!

We had fed our souls and come
Away renewed and refreshed
And incapable of ever forgetting
That magic night. Even today
That haunting sax and that deep
Blues voice wail in my head…

And that big fat cloud of dancing notes
Hangs softly in the air, laden with memories…

And I still see Annie and Joe Williams’
Single red rose…
And the happiness on her face.

Image by Social Butterfly from Pixabay

 

 

 

Posted in Being there, Birthday, Blues, Caring, Friends, Jzazz, Memories, Poem, Remembering, Reminiscing | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

From these Hunched and Aching Shoulders

Posted on August 27, 2019 by admin

 

From these hunched and aching shoulders

From these hunched and aching shoulders

Let drop the onuses of work and duty,

Worries, fears and fretful tears. O merciful

Gods of health and welfare, ease up the

Ache of pressure, introduce me to the

Odes of pleasure. Weary am I of worldly

Cares, and dream I of shores with sands

Aplenty; wash my sweat away with your

Fresh young waves, drink me in to your

Warmth of acceptance. Punishment, I

Do assure you, will not make me stronger

Or more efficient. Send in the fairies of

Fairness; there ought to be fairies of fairness

To fan their wings and blow the fear away.

 

From these weary hands please remove

Merciless calendar dates of chores, that

I may do good with what strength is left

To shore up the good in man and hold

The aches and pains of others at bay. We are

Born as fellow man, not as foe; foedom

Is an artificial reef in life, set to trap

And to destroy the weaker ones and mild.

Such imbalance does not serve.

 

From these tired eyes take these scenes

Of hurt, the pain of the bullied, the cry

Of the weary, the ache of the lost, the crime

Of murder and mayhem. These old eyes have

Seen enough – nay, way too much of such

Tortured souls and unhealed hurting. Let there

Be no more, it is so very wrong.

 

From this world take away the sins of Man

And heal the holes in souls they have hurt.

From vocabulary, erase the power of words

That wound, that Man may not know how

To desecrate and wound and kill.

 

From the Heart of Man, scale the weighty scales of

Infidelity, distrust, suspicion, jealousy and

Hate. Infuse him instead with the kiss of

Kindness. Let him understand the true

Meaning of

Peace.

 

From these hunched and aching shoulders

Let drop

The fate of a Prometheus Bound.

Let them wear the mantle of Peace.

 

­–H. W. Bryce

—

Image by intographics from Pixabay

 

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Alzheimer's, author site, Care Giving, Dementia, Fatigue, Featured poet, Life, Poem | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Furled or Unfurled

Posted on August 19, 2019 by admin

 

furled or unfurled

FURLED OR UNFURLED

 

Furled or unfurled, life outdoors is ecstasy,

Refreshment for the soul re-minding minds

How wonderful is Gaia, how breathlessly

We are taken, how beautifully designed.

 

How gifted we folk are to live here and be free

How close we come to reaching the sublime

Such a pleasant Eden, I’m sure you will agree,

Pray that it will be here for a forever time

 

These sails they are my friends, they take me far away,

Far from troubled minds and far away from toil,

And out upon the lake or docked inside the bay,

Take me far from nerves that always seem to coil

 

Come Monday morning, back to grinding stones

But never mind, the lake is bound to stay

You will heed the call of sails, be they furled or nay,

Next weekend you’ll be back , once again to play.

 

Furled or unfurled the sails are spirits free,

There always is a treasure somewhere for to spy,

That is why I keep these sails standing at the ready,

The treasure of my dreams is peaceful harmony.

— —

Image by Walter Bichler from Pixabay

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, author site, Choices, Life, Peace, Poem | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

THUMBS UP

Posted on August 12, 2019 by admin

 

Thumbs Up

THUMBS UP

A thumbs up is a
treasure trove, a mother lode
Worth a thousand words

A pat on the back and a nod
Is encouragement enough
Like hugs and kisses from Mom

A handshake by way of thanks
Builds up a man’s worth
And makes him stand tall in life

A kind word can cure the blues
Change all the sad parts
It’s a lift for a sad heart

It’s not much to ask
For a job well done
Simple acknowledgement

For recognition lifts the heart
Straightens the spine
And makes a fellow feel good

And there’s a joy in life
That warms the heart
Of such a one who gives

To give is generous
To receive sublime
The balance of life, divine

Such is yin and yang
No fists or guns required
The very path to peace

–H. W. Bryce

Image by Tumisu from Pixabay

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Being there, Caring, Celebration, Peace, Poem, Remember, Thank you | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment