#hemingwayshoax

It’s Been...

It has only been a week since we played the last card I didn’t think it would be this hard to start again without you. I can’t begin to say how I miss you. It’s been a month now since we parted and I feel so brokenhearted and I realize how much you meant to me. if only I had opened my heart for you to see.

It’s been a year since that fateful day I still see, hear and feel you as I wipe the tears away Oh how I wish I could go back in time. If only I had surrendered all to make you mine.

It’s been 40 years since our love was lost The tears still blur memories treasured, and the cost and yet my heart longs to have you here. If only for a moment I would give my life to again call you dear.

The Long Night 

It  was night a very long night with no end in sight.

I wished it would pass, that it would get lost in a shot glass that it would be a part of my past.

Each day was like the one before, each breath a worrisome chore, my life darkened to its core.

My only path was ever down, My prayer was to drown to be buried in the ground.

Life a never-ending heartache, an ache wrapped around me like a venomous snake that nothing could ever shake.

then a light broke through the dark, a word that lit a welcoming spark on a new trip I did embark

the spark grew into a fire its light all around did inspire me to reach out with new desire.

It led me in a new way into a bright new day under heaven’s sway.

Missing You

I close my eyes and I see you sitting in a chair New Year’s Eve standing beside me at a dance coming out of the water after a midnight swim smiling at me. I turn off the TV and stereo and I hear you laughing because you are happy telling me of your future and mine singing along with a song on the radio become silent as we start to kiss

I forget where I am and I feel you holding my hand as we walk through the fair gently comforting a worried spirit in me hugging me as we meet to go out growing in passion as we clasp each other in erotica

I finally open my eyes to see a distorted world before me out of focus a world swimming like looking into a pool of water an empty chair waiting for someone a world that can not see me

I turn on the TV to see what’s on people laughing to canned humor making inane conversation that is meaningless songs that echo sappy melodies or challenge musical lyricism for all the noise it is just that - noise

I orient myself to where I am again, to feel the world around me my hand wrapped around a glass of tea my melancholy mind is mine alone a sweater wrapped around me to keep me warm a tear slowly coursing down my cheek

What Can Be Said 

What can be said that hasn’t already been said in so many ways over a million days? Whether my words be esoteric or may they be mesmeric will my thoughts be bereft of words or go unheard?

I can make rhymes poetic or make them prosaic but will anyone hear the true meaning or will they find them demeaning?

Will words come to me while I am in bed will they be said before I am dead will they make any difference will they be given deference?

In the end if no one is listening the words will be useless jingling but I will keep on writing what’s in me and maybe someone, sometime will see.

Just what I mean.

If I Could...

If I could sit on the porch watch the force from the west come in with its thunder, lightning, and cooling rain with a glass of gin and lemonade in one hand a cigar in the other. talking about life, work, jokes, society, whatever with my dad.

If I could swim under the moonlight the gentle waves blown by a gentle breeze lapping our bodies, caressing, soothing, washing  the sweat away with hands clasped cooing words, talking about love, respect, futures, hopes, desires the day, whatever with my girl

If I could drive on the Lost Nations road with it’s straight tempting ways daring a race to the end Spider Monza Chevelle, testing our nerve, our metal taunting, betting, Maybe our last race, before college, the service, deployment, future death whatever with my brother

If I could dig the hard, untilled field with its rocks and vexing tares conquering it, our youth, testing our strength. to plant carrots, beans, peas, and corn. Stopping to get a drink of water from a hose. Chattering about, school, girls, baseball, bullies, a party, tomorrow, whatever with my best friend.

If I could... ...go back in time.

I Didn’t Let Go

When I was young I had a dream I grabbed onto that dream and didn’t let go Throughout my life whether in the light or in the night I didn’t let go

As I grew I held it tight Neither turning to the left or right I didn’t let go

As the years went on I made it my goal It grasped at my soul It didn’t let go

I worked hard and long to make it my own I strove and toiled, into my being it was sewn It didn’t let go

In my later years I still followed my dream it remained my passion, my guiding beam It didn’t let go

Then one day I woke up and it disappeared and my eyes slowly cleared I relaxed my grip

I looked at the world all around Where had I gone so wrong I relaxed my grip some more

I had missed the blue of the skies I had missed the tears in your eyes I relaxed my grip even more

All around there were flowers and rivers, and mountains and laughter, joy, and smiles like refreshing fountains I relaxed my grip more and more

There were birds, fish, and wildlife of all shapes all new and people, co-workers and family that I hardly knew I relaxed my grip just a little more

I looked at my hand that once held a dream Before my eyes it crumbled and blew away in a silent scream I should have let go!

Stones

I stand in a lea where stones grow Planted and raised with care in rows. They mark the passage of minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years. Watered long ago with both rain and tears. Stones etched by man, wind, water, and time. Inscribed with numbers from less than one to ninety and nine.

As I stare at the faint markings I wonder about the space, and the dash between the numbers that my fingers trace.

The faint name tells me that it was a man of long ago. Was he good or bad, his life happy or sad. what did he see or know?

Is he just a name on some ancestral list? Born here, died there, was there a time when he was missed?

Does anyone know more than I about the space and dash? Has all his life turned to just a box of ash?

Did he leave some unmarked path other than a dash on a stone that history followed by many though he remains unknown? The time will come when someone will plant and water a stone in my memory. The stone may last for years, decades, maybe even centuries.

But in the end will all I’ve seen and done be reduced to a space and a dash? Or will some deed leave a trail that others will follow and hold fast?

A trail even if its beginning is lost to those living a long time from now. A trail that will continue on, and leads upwards somehow.

An act or word that stands the test of time as solid as this stone I see. A life that leaves no mark, no stone to stand upon is not for me.

Whether my name or history lives on is of little worth. If I did nothing to lift the lives of others out of earthly dearth.

But...