anguish

ANGUISH AND FRUSTRATION

When nothing is all that comes,
When “nothing” dulls the brain,
It’s time to ask why I fail the task.
I know that I need to move.
I know that I need to act.
Life is passing by.
Is it time to ask the question “why?”
No!
It’s time to act:
Take pen to hand and write
Whatever
Comes
To wash
Away
The emptiness
Of the night.

Cy, 1996

Amusin' Me

Cottontail's feedin' 'neath the apple tree, apple tree, apple tree.
Cottontail's feedin' 'neath the apple tree;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail's walkin' down the path, I see, path I see, path I see.
Cottontail's walkin' down the path, I see;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail, he don't bother with me, bother with me, bother with me.
Cottontail, he don't bother with me;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail, I see that you're so free, you're so free, you're so free.
Cottontail, I see that you're so free;
Just amusin' me.



Cy, Mon., May 8, 2006

The crickets sing amidst the tall, grey grasses,
Amidst the field of Queen Anne's Lace,
Amidst the rustle of poplar leaves,
Amidst the warm, August sun,
Amidst the easterly breeze,
Amidst my thoughts which take their ease
Amidst the earthy smell of peace.


Cy, August 9, 2007

ABUSE (ON THE BUS TO TOFINO)

I saw your little boy
Hit you, hit you, hit you!
Little boy, spoiled hitter
Becomes big man, spoiled hitter,
Because you knew not
What to do, what to do, what to do.
Can’t say “no!”,
When appropriate “no!”.
He learns:
Your feelings hurt,
Your body hurt.
But don’t despair,
For he can care.
You can hug and
Take the time
To say:“I care.”.
Can’t say:”Don’t hit me!”?
Or: “It’s wrong to hit me!”?
No control, no control:
Controlled before self-control:
He hits:
You hug
His little fists.
You care.
He is loved.
You hug
His little fists.
He learns C Control, control.
He learns
Self control.
No more shame,
Abuser’s shame:
A sociopathic,
Evil child,
Or,not?

A SUMMER EVENING

The cool, sweet, moist,
Summer, evening smell
Of clover
Settles on me,
Even as darkness
Settles on the earth,
Cloaking me
In peaceful exhilaration.
The music of the many crickets
Fills my ears
With nature’s energy and rhythms
At the close of day.
The misty moon haunts me,
Hanging there,
Amongst the silhouettes
Of weathered pines,
Evoking an emptiness,
So I close my eyes,
And my ears are filled again
By crickets chi-chi-chi-ing,
And I find peace once more,
Rooted in the earth,
My home for now,
A stepping-stone to heaven;
But, for now,
I feel the cooling breeze
And the mosquito’s bite,
And fill my lungs with clover smells:
Just happy to be here.

A PATCH OF ICE

A patch of glistening ice

In the waning sunset;

A lake upon a lake;

A tiny lake upon the great lake;

A lake of light shining on the darkness,

Like a single small white cloud

In a great blue sky;

Like a small truth upon a great lie,

Shining like a beacon

In a dark storm,

Upon the shore,

So that we may know Him

Forever more.

A HIKE WITH WILLY (OUR DOG)
They passed by the cricket-call line,

Which was ringing loud and shrill.

They entered the sun-warmed, cricket-circle-meadow,

As the singing chi-chi-chi-ing,

Harmonized with the underfoot swish, swish, swish

Of crisp, brown, fallen leaves.

Passing through the field quickly,

Along the path of cat-tail and burdock

And goldenrod and golden aspen,

And sunlit sumac crowded there,

And fluffy, thistle seed, puffing and glistening silver-white,

And floating, silken, milkweed seed.

They do not hear,

Nor do they see

All of this.

They do not heed,

Like Willy,

Yet not like Willy, bounding here and there,

Hurrying home,

Worried about passing time,

Which I forgot,

While breathing the joy of this beauty,

Which, in dallying,

God presents to me.

A Eulogy To Princess Diana
Mother to William and Harry;
Affectionate and compassionate celebrity;
Sympathy, the mark of your charity,
Born of a heartfelt empathy
For the suffering of us sisters and brothers:
For, that suffering, you too, has smothered.
You have felt our many sorrows,
With no affectation borrowed,
And healed with your comforting touch,
Those who need it so very much.
You gave and searched for love;
Now you bask in it above.
Mother to Harry and William
And many needy millions:
We thank you for your love,
Which, to spread, you always strove.

A CHILD’S STORY

Oh! To dare to read those words
So deep within our minds,
Those words forever written
Deep within the lines,
On the pages
Of the book
Of our childhood haze.
Those childhood joys are easy,
But what of the darkened days?
Darkened with parental fear,
And eternal longing
For the love of our first love;
Painful sorrow of rejection,
Emotional neglect and disaffection;
Burning anger at the missing strokes;
Frustration of the spoiled child:
Over-indulged brain,
With discipline neglected,
Produce an over-stimulated pain.
Yet lacking in confidence
From an over-dependence;
Cared for, but little loved!
Ah childhood!
We carry the story still,
For deep inside it’s shrill.
We dare not turn the page,
For we dare not see the rage
Of an adult still in childhood,
Lest the tears shall cause a flood.