One More Moment
• 04/17/24 at 11:53AM •One more moment,
is all I ask,
to be with you again.
One moment is the past.
Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.
One more moment,
is all I ask,
to be with you again.
One moment is the past.
Memories are pushing out,
from my brain.
Memories of love
and an occasional disdain.
No one prepares you
of the loss of a life.
In my case, it was,
the loss of my wife.
Ive been told to feel lucky,
in this play, life,
for all of the time,
I spent with my wife.
While the information is true,
except for the rest of your life,
please understand, your loss,
cuts like a sharp knife.
Please spare me the platitudes,
they don't help my wife,
and certainly do nothing,
reduce my sadness and strife.
When this life is over,
it will never be,
for I've lost her,
for an eternity.
Love knows no limit,
Love knows no bound.
Love is now missing.
Love cannot be found.
Here I am,
yearning for love.
A friendship to secure,
forever my trove.
What is the life,
which we feel each day?
Should we join in
or find another way?
Words written,
then read as we
become smitten,
for what we see.
The words are so many,
I write down a few.
How do I capture them,
When I think of you?
Words appear in a mass
of those I must undo,
to capture all the meaning.
It's what Poets will do.
Writing of words, over time,
searching for one or two,
finding words which will rhyme.
Words pouring out, so quickly,
those sublime, one more time.
Writings will fade, after ink
becomes old, with paper brittle,
thoughts now forgotten, they sink.
No one reads; very little
as I say now to you,
no matter the day it's
here now for my friend, you.
Life can be funny,
Life may be bland.
If you enjoy laughter,
you must understand.
Hands of red,
heart of gold.
Telling this story,
will never get old,
unless our daily routine,
which is done in life,
is useless work,
with little strife.
When I was young
and very small,
I discovered,
a small door behind a wall.
The door about 3 feet high,
and 2 feet wide,
was found behind a wall,
in the basement, the right side.
The door with a door knob,
was locked, with a key.
No markings on the lock,
which I could see.
I played in the basement,
every day,
never seeing another
there to play.
One time, after dinner,
I'd gone to the basement.
I fell asleep, waking to
a sad lament.
I wish I knew someone,
I could play,
with, for I was lonely,
almost everyday.
The noise was coming
from the small door.
I knocked, saying,
please tell me more.
(continued)
It was silent,
without a reply.
So I knocked,
for another try.
The door swung,
open wide and inside
was a young boy.
His name was Clyde.
Clyde was small,
about like me.
He said he was from
across the Sea.
He was 18 years old,
about 10 years more than me.
We played together,
incessantly.
When I left, to go
away to school.
College was the
dividing rule.
Many years later,
I returned and went
to the small door,
behind the wall in the basement.
continued
Many years later,
I returned home,
and went to the basement,
where I found the door.
I knocked on the door,
it opened wide,
and there was my
old friend, Clyde.
He looked the
same to me,
a proud member,
of the Minihane.
Minihane, a small Hawaiian,
reported be from another
world, coming to Earth,
and part of Hawaiian Culture
and now of Hawaiian Legend.
Words become a topic,
when used to describe,
a collection of words,
into a finished document.
This was what I was trying to
convey in this December 2020 writing,
Many of the words, unused before,
lay as castoffs on my writing room floor.
Wrinkled, dried as leaves from a tree,
waiting, still waiting to be used by me.
Words forgotten, well past their age,
can be returned to life; to a page
in a notebook, a paper, using a pen,
to be written for the reader again.
Sometimes, historical events,
become a hysterical "bent",
when emotions, seize the day
and citizens, want to vent.
Talk to me about the agression,
you see in people's eyes,
just before they succumb,
and innocents dies.
What kind of world, do we live in,
when among the hues and cries,
and one side is in chaos,
while the other side dies.