“Patience is virtue.”
“Time mends all things.”
Yes, yes.
But John Dryden warned in 1680,
“Beware the fury of a patient man.”
Because even the stretchiest elastic
will break when stretched too far.
Still
St. Augustine advised,
“Patience is the companion of wisdom. ”
So, I am fighting
to be wise.
Your priorities are
not my priorities.
Your time is
not my time.
Your hopes are
not my hopes.
Your deadlines
are not my deadlines.
But all
of mine,
depend
on yours.
What laughter echoes
through empty hallways
mocking joy
mocking always.
What song echoes
through empty places
mocking love
mocking faces.
What words echo
through empty pages
mocking peace
mocking rages.
A few posts ago I mentioned the talented Catherine Novak and how she’d adapted my poem, “My Tribute,” into a song back in high school. I sang in a gospel musical group called Koinonia with Catherine , and she composed a song that we loved to perform. It was bouncy and rocking and our audiences always loved it as well. It’s another one that only exists in our memories, but this is what I recall of Cathy’s Song. The lyrics are great, too.
One day a long time ago
When I had lost my soul
I knew I needed someone who would come and make me whole.
I looked around me and I saw Him standing there
He said that He would help me
my burdens He would bear;
and He said, I’ve got the time
If you will only follow me.
Come to my house, I will teach you to be free.
And you’ll become a part of one great family
and I said, “Lord, have mercy on me.”
We talked a long, long while, I told him of my fears
He comforted my soul, He wiped away my tears.
He said that he love me and save me from my sin
and if we just knock but once, you know He’ll let us in.
and He said,
I’ve got the time
If you will only follow me.
Come to my house, I will teach you to be free.
And you’ll become a part of one great family
and I said, “Lord, have mercy on me.”
And now I live my life in h a r m o n y with G o d ….
and He said,
I’ve got the time
If you will only follow me.
Come to my house, I will teach you to be free.
And you’ll become a part of one great family
and I said, “Lord, have mercy on me.”
I wish there was a recording for you to hear this, because it is really quite a wonderful song. It’s good as a poem, too, though. ;-P
Thanks Cath, for some great musical memories!
I am the best man you will ever find
Give me everything you have
I’ll wait here on this couch
hating that idiot who is the reason I’m not rich
Come here, baby. You know you want me.
I’m the sexiest man you know.
despite my size 60 jogging pants
—————————————
In case you’ve forgotten, they are Pride, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Lust, Vanity, Gluttony
________________________________________________________
As shared with the Poetry Garden http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/ If you’re here from the Gooseberry Garden, please leave a link to your own poem in the comments below. Thanks for stopping by!
When we were in Paris last March, I found a shoe sale. I ended up buying a pair of black leather wedge shoes (for just 12 Euros! John said, “How much? Why don’t you buy the brown pair, too?” lol) Now, I don’t really believe in plain black anything, and those wedges seemed to me to be a black board just waiting for something to be written upon them.
So I looked for some fine tipped, permanent opaque pens. I couldn’t find them anywhere within 100 km, so bought the Sakura pens on eBay direct from Japan, and waited for the day when inspiration would strike.
The day has arrived!
My plain black wedges are plain no longer! They sport the complete Petrarchan sonnet Canzoniere 61, in Petrarca’s original Italian. You might remember that this is the poem I translated for Grace Awakening.
Where there are inadvertent spaces (like where I needed to even up a line, and where the next word didn’t fit) I added roses. For each line of the sonnet I switched colours. I completely free-handed these, and I was quite delighted that the entire poem fit EXACTLY between the 2 shoes! Lucky fluke, eh?
I am quite contented with the result, and even more content that I did manage to get the project done before a year was up!
Spring’s promise whispered,
a twilight song warming me.
Buds broke joyfully
from bare, dead, winter branches;
Now they wear a snow blanket.
I wrote a lot of poetry as a teen, to sort out my feelings about a variety of things, but usually about a boy (the particular musical boy, my obsession toward whom was the beginnings of Grace Awakening, in fact). For his 20th birthday I gave him a book of my poetry (about him) all done in calligraphy. At the end there was extra space, and so I created a rambling poem to fill 3 or 4 pages.
To celebrate his 21st birthday, I had another musical friend compose the music and adapt that rambly poem into a song. During graduation weekend, on one rather emotional Saturday afternoon, after a swim in her pool, we performed for him (I had the descant part which I’ve essentially forgotten), she sang the melody and played the piano).
I find myself singing this song now and then, and it is strange to think that there are only three people on the planet who’ve ever heard this song, and I suspect of the three of us, I’m the only one who still knows any of the words and the music, since that performance is now far away in the murky mists of the past.
I could sing this for you, but you’d probably prefer it if I didn’t. I assure you that it’s quite lovely though, and I’m thankful to the talented Catherine Novak Schulmann for her efforts to take my poetry and turn it into a very meaningful moment of music, lo those many years ago.
Over the years, I’m sure I’ve mis-remembered bits and re-constructed others. Somewhere there might be a single cassette tape recording of it, but I doubt it. That means there’s no way to check if I’m wrong, but this is the way I remember it:
In my small way, I have tried to capture
The many facets that I know are you
And in doing so, to discover myself
And the boy with whom I grew.
Beyond the images, we conceived of each other
Honestly, fictiously, subconsciously
What me mean to each other
Beyond our concept of love (whatever it may be)
`til we accept the facets ingrained in you and me.
When I say I love you I say it with my heart
`cause this feeling is not fleeting, untried, or new
And even when I’m angry
Or when I’m crying and lonely
That doesn’t weaken my trust or my belief in you.
For you have always made me feel important enough
To care for, to share with and be there for
When times got tough
And I thank you for your friendship
I’ll thank you `til the end
It’s a joy and a blessing, that you should be my friend.
You have given me many gifts
Your friendship, music, and love
And these are gifts I’ll cherish for all time.
I thank you for giving me the greatest gift I’ve ever known
And this is my tribute.
♥
♥
Submitted for Poetry picnic on the theme of song, poetry, and art. http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.ca/2012/04/poetry-picnic-week-29-art-music-and.html If you’re here from the Gooseberry Garden, please leave a link to your poem in any comment you leave!
I stroll the mall, and check all routes
in search of perfect, tall, grey boots.
Store by store I search them all
On tidy shelves and crowded stalls.
I search the net in desperate state
At Fluevog.com The Boots await!
The perfect shape. The perfect heel.
The shade of grey, that’s dove not steel.
Alas, at five hundred bucks with tax,
My happy heart’s cleaved with an ax.
I check the site from time to time
To see if cost has dropped a dime.
But one sad day, the boots were gone
My face grew sad, my mouth was drawn.
.
The Grey Boot Quest began once more
Fruitless, I wandered store to store,
Til a clearance ad came to my in box
and now I can enfold my socks.
My Fluevog Logan boots, were on sale
A happy ending to the tale!
A single pair was in my size,
I quickly clicked, ready to BUY.
Soon from the store in Montreal
My boots will travel, pushed and hauled.
The first miracle was an end to the quest
The Second Miracle Logans are the best!
A week from now, or maybe two,
I’ll pose in those grey boots for you!
.
toes March 28, 2012
Tags: free verse, love, poetry
My toes travel,
shifting beneath the sheets,
searching for your warm form,
and encounter emptiness.
Where you were
there lingers
a memory of warmth
that leaves me longing,
lonely,
for your return.
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