At the Crossroads

Posted on February 22, 2023 by admin

 

AT THE CROSSROADS

 

H. W. Bryce

 

At the crossroads of last year and the new year,

I stand looking back, looking forward.

Which shall I be? Last year’s old man, all

Worn out and disillusioned, distraught,

 

Or the New Year baby, alll hope and energy,

Everything new and sparkling, dripping with faith.

 

Last year’s new tracks became familiar ruts,

Confidence wore down by ifs, ands and buts.

Next year’s trail is yet to be broken, through

The long grasses, thick forests, raging streams

And high peak mountains. Through it all, reams

Of chances. Do I take this chance or that?

Do I need a steel-lined hat? Is my compass true?

 

Standing at the crossroads of last year and next year,

In that nebulous, silent traffic stop of Time,

On the eve of Night, or Break of New Day,

Not knowing to be nostalgic or chance that continuum of Time,

To be captive in my habits, or to set new rhythms – to rhyme,

To play it safe or dare to face my fear, and all of that

With but a nanosecond to decide,

 

To admit to my weaknesses, confess my wrongs,

To play the fiddle and listen to the gongs,

Or hum my OHMs and own my pride, take that ride,

Chance that wave, make new life songs…

 

I know you find it difficult to imagine such a world

Where Love is offered in spite of hate aswirl,

But there are still good people left in this crazy

Troubled world, good things are being done,

People are still having fun.

So go ahead, my friend, Imagine. Set your mind to

Imagination, ride the bumpy ride and take the crossroad

To the right, and help to build that brave new world.

 

Leave the mundane rut-filled, troubled time,

Set new pathways, invite your friends

Hold out your hand, and I will take your hand,

And we will help to lead the way to that

Imagined new way of living, loving, helping

Each other out, in good times, and in bad.

 

But, true to its nature, Time awaits no one,

And so I am drawn into the future, willingly

Or unwillingly, and so, I decide to go, yes,

Willingly, into that waiting future of my life.

 

With hopeful expectancy and pregnant thoughts.

 

So go ahead and imagine. Imagination will

Take you to where you need to go. It will.

If you can imagine it, it can happen.

Learning new traffic patterns—

 

Hey look. Young people, and old, are still falling

in love. Nuses ae still braving the virus,

Hour by hour, doctors are still doctoring each case.

 

There are revivals in embattled USA

of the old random acts of kindness, eh!

 

Countless people are still taking lost folks in,

Shelter from the storm, respite from the war.

 

Yes, my friend, you, too, may dream, so go right ahead

And imagine. Imagine that better day and make your bed.

 

Countless acts of bravery under duress are

Being made each and every day. Police are still

Protecting, children are still childering, helpful

Hands are still helping, loving hearts are still loving,

People are still seeing you, and you still matter,

And you still have love in your heart to scatter,

 

Yes, and a helping hand is still more powerful than

A fist, an encouraging word is still more helpful

Than a dressing down, music is still a healing

Force, more powerful than any storm awheeling.

 

So go ahead my friend, dream. Dream big. Yes,

Go ahead, Imagine. Imagine that magic world

Beyond the road to peace. Go ahead, imagine.

Yes, you have that right. The future can be bright.

 

Imagine!

 

Image by Stefan from Pixabay

 

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The Road to Peace

Posted on December 31, 2022 by admin

 

THE ROAD TO PEACE
H. W. Bryce
© July 2022                   (re-)blogged Dec 30, 2022, for Dec 26, for New Year
—
–As read Sept. 12, 2022, London International Empathy Conference, and at Adelaide International Empathy conference Oct. 1, hosted by the Virtual School of Adelaide, gratitude to Paramita Ray, co-founder and president.
The road to Peace lies along
Forgiveness Boulevard,
Where minds come to meet
And lead their masters
To Understanding Street at
Mutual Square, where hands
Tend to shake other hands
In friendly greeting, and lead
Each other to Huggers’ Lane,
Where compliments are served,
And invitations are exchanged,
Where candles are lit only in
Celebration of Life itself, and eyes
Shine with delight to see you,
Whoever you are, for this is the
Centre of Friendship State, a
Country of conviviality and grace,
Where celebration replaces
Disputes and wars. This is where
Kindness is stocked in abundance
And granted free, in exchange for
One’s misery and grudges, and
Putdowns and threats…
This is where Freedom Cross is
Located, to greet all pilgrims
From anguish and disillusionment,
From cruelty and torture and
Bombings and shootings…
In this Land of Peace,
Smiles have dominion over hate,
Are given freely instead of
Having to be smuggled in.
Come, walk with me along
Forgiveness Boulevard,
Where dreams are built—
This is the land of incense and roses
Where one’s nose follows its dream,
Where feelings are warm and good
And touch becomes more sensitive
To the human inside the human,
And the eyes see more clearly now
And on a clear day, one can see
Forever, can see into another’s soul
And see oneself there, a unity not
Otherwise recognized in daily toil.
This is where the taste of honey greets
The pessimistic trait and shares
That sweet nectar of love. This is the
Home the soul it is destined to find and
To dwell in with fellow converts from
Wild abandon and indulgence and
enmity. The seven deadly sins
Do not dwell here…
This is faith without prejudice. This
Is where lives Nirvana, Zen, and all
The gods of peace and love and
Respect and dignity, and eternal
Love of thy neighbour
Welcoming all who flee evil…
This is the ultimate peace.
Come, walk with me along
Foregiveness Bouleavard,
Where the sun always triumphs
Over the rain and the hail of hatred
And the Lanes of Transgression
Are foiled by simple love of
Fellow being.
Simple choice, life over strife,
To Life over death of will and lousy choices.
Choice of survival made possible.
Peace, the easier, wiser path.
—
age Walter from Pixabay
May be an image of sculpture
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We Three Kings

Posted on December 31, 2022 by admin

 

WE THREE KINGS
On: Nikki’s card                                    Blogged Dec 30, 2022, for Dec 19, for Christmas
Walking through the desert
With nothing but a star
For a guide
And faith in their hearts,
Three diverse men of distant lands
Passed with confidence through
the desert sandstorm,
Perfectly assured that they would
Meet their destination safely,
That they would be blessed
And feel honoured to have visited the
Hope of the World in a foreign
Country filled with foreign people.
And thus it was, three Foreigners were
greeted by Arabs, Jews, in Peace and
tranquility,
Midst troubled times.
And so, the wish for it to be thus, in all of Time,
For this people and that people, and
For all of the peoples in the world.
There was a pause in 1914, midst troubled
Times, Christmas Time in the war, and both
sides put down their rifles and sang of such
A meeting about such a babe born
To serve all peoples for all Time…
Such faith and deep beliefs, were enshrined
In the hearts of these three universal travellers
As their true story of Christmas, of Faith
In Humanity, for the good in each other
In Love and harmony, and their ability
To walk through the sandstorms of life
To celebrate, new life,
blessed life…
These three diverse sojourners became
Kings on their trek, just people
At heart, kings in their deed, honour
In humility, to bow to the shifting dunes
Of life to honour a babe, a future.
A Future…
–to walk out of the sandstorm of life
And into the acceptance of each other,
Of the daily spirit of Christmas
For all
And for always.
And may your God and our God bless us,
every one.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
everybody.
From H. W. Bryce
Painting by Nikki Bryce – Christmas 2014
on hand crafted Christmas card;
absolutely beautiful.
Note: the sandstorm effect is the result of
me spilling a cup of coffee all over it.
May be an illustration
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There is Hope

Posted on December 31, 2022 by admin

 

Herb W Bryce

 

Shared with Public                           Posted Dec 30, 2022, for Dec 12

Public
THERE IS HOPE
H. W. Bryce – Herb W Bryce
“There is hope in every sunrise…”
–Lilian Woo in Motivational Strips, Dec 7/22
There is hope in every sunrise,
There is melancholy in the moon,
In between the day thrives, with or without you;
With gratitude you’ve escaped the doom.
There is hope everywhere you find it,
If you keep your eyes sharply peeled,
It’s there in open spaces, hiding without disguise;
Grab it when you see it, and hope is sealed.
Yes, there’s hope in every sunrise,
Its rays light up your darkness,
Its rays lead you everywhere but stray;
You will know it by its starkness…
Yes, there’s hope in every sunrise,
The moon’s melancholy fades and flies.
— —
Short url to Wildfire Magazine
I am thrilled to have my autobiographical Christmas story included
in the Christmas edition of Wildfire Magazine. I am gratefully indebted to
Publisher Susan Joyner-Stumpf and her briliant staff.
Merry Christmas everybody.
— —
Sunrise water colour “Done by Eunice Olsen in Manning Paul Rowe
School, Alberta, Nov. 1978/79, Grade 10.”
May be art
Betsy E Wurzel, Janet Kvammen and 63 others
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I Used to Be

Posted on December 30, 2022 by admin

 

I USED TO BE
H. W. Bryce                                            Entered Dec 30, 2022, for Dec 5
(from my files)
People visit, my people visit,
but they only come and go
The in-between’s a boring flow
Of sleep, of eat, forever sit
I used to be so busy a very busy one
I used to sell folks homes
I used to volunteer with kids
I used to be the one to set the tone
I used to run a business
I ran a corps of kids
I raised five kids and taught them right
I was the one they came to I was the president
What happened that I’m not allowed to do?
I can do. I want to do there’s life left in me yet
Who took my get up and go, get up and got? I’m ready and I’m set
I try and what do I get but what a lot of to-do
Now I sit anonymous
Now I’m looked upon as one who’s just a fuss
I’m here. I know I am. I feel. I think.
I used to be. I used to be.
I want to be again, I try to be…
But now I see I’m just a missing link.
———-
So here I am. So what?
So I do what I still can do
And do it to the best of my ability
You think you’ve won Mr. Disease
Well, let me tell you something,
I’m not done!
And I’ll not end with a whimper
I’ll go out with a bang
And I’m aiming at you, mister,
I’ve got my sights on you
And make no bones about it
Give me your best shot
And I’ll give you my cannon ball
You’ve made me mad
And you’ll be glad
When I finish mauling you
Never mind I used to be
Yes, I used to be of peace,
But you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!
— –
I know we have had a couple of Alzheimer’s awareness
months, but when the past speaks to you, you must
pay attention. Punctuation follows the loss…
May be an image of 2 people, dog and text
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A Touch of Midnight

Posted on December 30, 2022 by admin

 

A Touch of Midnight
H. W. Bryce
There’s A touch of midnight in the air,
And, a touch of cold shoulder showing.
She would not dance with me.
No nod, no hello, and me not knowing
What the matter might be
Dusk has fallen, darkness now sets in,
Malancholy couples with the night,
Forlorn as falling leaves into a bin,
I wander, chewing on my plight.
There’s a touch of midnight in the air,
The chill runs up my spine.
The streets are blank, the lights are out,
And all I can do is pine.
But
The empty space is not as empty as it seems,
It is filled with air, the wind is there,
It’s filled up with melancholy sighs
That the wind passes on to the trees.
Yes, there’s a touch of midnight in the air
Wearing the patina of age, slightly worn,
Lightly rusted and I
Sometimes feeling busted, yet…
Yet, I walk,
And yet I talk,
And yet…I AM,
And what you see,
And it ain’t necessarily so,
What you see,
If you look a little closer,
Is ME.
I’m still Alive !!!
Oh, but there’s a touch of midnight in the air,
It can chill your bones to the marrow,
Yet midnight comes before the sunrise
And melts away in the morning air.
Listen to the sparrow.
And yet I walk.
And yet I walk.
I walk right through the midnight air,
I walk off that mighty chill,
That chill that comes with the midnight air.
I walk away from that chill,
That touch of chill in the midnight air.
Image by Aryok from Pixabay
May be an image of 1 person and sky
You, Betsy E Wurzel, Edith Wilson and 90 others
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Everything Old

Posted on December 30, 2022 by admin

 

EVERYTHING OLD WAS NOT BAD
H. W. Bryce                                               Entered Dec 30, 2023, for Nov 21
(Notes)
There’s a tendency to abandon the old
Not just old people into institutions
But imprtant traditions, institutions,
Buildings, genres in music, story-telling
Formats. Poetry, for examples, has swung
From formal formats to practicaly no
Format and they call it free verse. It has
Pendulummed from rhyme to blank, back
To rhyme or semi rhyme to blank, to the
Point where slurs and insults are being
Cast upon rhyme.
In the olden days, rhyme was honoured.
In the old days, there was land and farms
And gardens and happy toiling farm families.
Today we have corporate crop growers run
By city dwellers out of board rooms.
Everything old was not bad.
In the old days, crops were crops and they
Were healthy
Today we have genetically modified crops
And we don’t always know what we are eating.
Everything old was not bad.
In the old days, the old people stayed with
Their families, and when they died, the
Families washed the bodies and prayed over
Them and gave them decent, reverend burials.
Today, we burn the bodies, put them in a pot
And scatter their ashes to the wind.
Everything old was not bad.
In the old days, children learned the cyle of
Life on the farm; they played freely in Nature.
Today, children think milk comes from the
Store, many have never been to a farm or
Seen a cow and think gardening is slave
Labour. They play on cages, concrete pens.
Everything old was not bad.
In the old days, babies went where mother
Went, into the field to work, into the theatre
For work and was breast fed to weaning.
Today, babies are bottle fed, grow into communal day
gatherings, being taught basics by hired hands committe
Everything old was not bad.
We lived with horse and cows, chickens and sheep
We gathered wood for the wood stove, we melted snow
For the zinced family bath tub and went to the
Outdoor viffy for relief. We never overate,
we got plenty of natural exercise
and wore rosy red cheeks in winter
through shoulder high drifts. We walked miles
to the one-room school house and played
outdoors come what may the weather.
And we were one with Nature.
Everything old is not bad.
Image by Michal Jarmoluk from Pixabay
No photo description available.
Betsy E Wurzel, Edith Wilson and 70 others
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