Still Longing For Autumn, And It's The Middle Of October

Looking back at the journal again.  It's what you do when you write.  You try to salvage something from the bits and pieces your muse gives you every now and then, when it's feeling generous.
So far, I haven't had anything very long, but I have had a few bits I like very much.  I shared the previous gleanings, and now I'm taking a stab at the more recent words.

10/16/16

Some days Summer seems as relentless
In its grasp upon us in Autumn
As Winter does in Spring
As though reluctant to release its prize
To cooler days and chilly nights.
Much as Winter hates
To let us thaw in Spring's
Delights.













On delicate orange wings
The souls of the departed
Overcome many things
And soothe the broken-hearted
As they Southward wend their way
Getting to Mexico
By All Saints Day.

Or, as it is celebrated
 Dia De Los Muertos.
Day of the Dead
When graves are decorated
With favorite flowers and foods,
And even some small items
Depicting favorite activities
The families come
And have a picnic
And remember those gone before.
Life is celebrated,
It is not a mourning of loss
But a celebration of having
Had that person in their lives.
And the butterflies come
In their thousands
Every year
Souls coming home
To share the celebration.

10/17/16
Invisible
A poem about Beauty and the Beast (1987) For Cindy
 By C.K. Armistead
Often he feels invisible
The man inside the beast 
The soul behind the visage
Is human.
If any cared to look
A few loved ones know
They see him
They love the warrior/poet
In his soul.
But only SHE sees him
REALLY sees him
The noble poet
The ferocious warrior
The sum total
Of his burnished
Beautiful soul.
Only SHE sees it ALL
And loves unconditionally.

10/18/16

"Listen! The wind is rising 
and the air is wild with leaves,
We've had our summer evenings,
Now for October eves!"
-Wolfe

The above is one of the best  quotes I have ever seen about Fall

If only our weather would catch up-  
The wind rises all right,
But the temperature is too high
And not many leaves
Are aswirl on the wind as yet.


Bits of arias stuck
In my head
A throat too gunky
Yet to sing
Trying to loosen
Things up with medicine
And herbal tea
Don't know how successful
It will be
Hoping this is all
Finished before recital
Only singing one little
Aria
But I DO want it to
Come out as well
As I possibly can sing it -
I fear I sound far worse
Than anyone lets on
I don't think my pitch sounds right
When I listen to
Recordings - I sound flat.
At least to myself.


Yet another warm day
As if Summer is trying to say
I will not go- I refuse to budge!
Though Autumn stands ready
And Winter is a solemn judge.


10/19/16

When did personal responsibility
become a thing of the past?
Why do so many seek always
To blame someone else
for their mistakes instead of admitting
and learning from them?

Not my job
Not my fault
Always excuses
Never responsible
This generation
Accepts mediocrity
Instead of striving for greatness
Our parents felt
Obliged to sacrifice
For the benefits they enjoyed
Their generation
Survived Depression
Fought WWII
Won the Cold War
 Made the way
For all the good things
And Freedoms we enjoy
That we are busy
Squandering
By not being willing
To think of others
Of the greater good -
The needs of the Many
As Spock would no doubt remind us.



Cold quality to the late evening light
Soon our clocks will be set back an hour
To reflect this new reality.
The sunlight is golden, but pale
There are heavy clouds
But they do not cover the sky
They rumble with thunder as they
Sail by
While yet the sun
Does shine.

10/20/16

So long sitting
Need to move-
Alas, meetings.

  










10/23/16

I do hunger for food
For my body
But more so for my soul-
My spirit.
Something is lacking
Some voice needs
Strength
In order to sing.
A swarm of words
Batting around inside my head
Like moths around a light fixture,
Hitting the barrier,
But still striving,
Knocking into each other
Causing disruptions
Disconnects
Lost ideas
Fluctuations in the
Brightness
Of the light
That tries to shine
Through
To guide me out
Of silence
So unproductive
And into bounteous,
Joyous song.


That brings us to today.  When I sat in church, enjoying the liturgy as always, feeling part of something greater than myself, something ancient, ongoing, alive and vital still. 
Words and ideas battering my brain,
When I was constrained to remain
Silent
And listening.
Listening is good
Many times you hear what you NEED to hear
In that silence.
The silence where God speaks.
If only my mind would quiet down enough
To listen.