Friend For All Seasons

 

 

 

 

I use to say that my best friend was my Mom,

Then later in life that my best friend was my lover,

Yet there has been a friend that has been with me longer.

A nurturer like a Mother,

A companion like a Lover,

One whose mood would fit my every need.

Mist and rain with new growth in Spring.

Sunshine, warmth and solitude of a Summer’s day.

The rush of a brisk wind with swirling leaves,

On a dull grey Autumn afternoon.

And finally the icy chill and drifting snow,

Covering every corner it can capture on a Winter’s evening.

Nature,

The friend of my spirit and lover of my soul,

Weaving it’s magic throughout my  life,

From youth to old age.

©2019

Shadow

 

 

Shadow

16 Oct 2008 – 4 Sept 2018

 

 

 

In the corner of the sunroom,

Toys remain neatly in the box

Ready to be picked as the favorite of the day.

By the side door,

Leash and harness still hang on the banister

Waiting for morning, afternoon or evening walks.

The window seat looking out over the bird feeders,

Empty from the many hours we spent watching

The outside family together.

Corners of the sofa and bed

Remain vacant but ever a memory to the loyalty

And affection you showed us.

A photo sits on the mantle,

Your silent gaze from the frame upon the room

Reminds us daily of your presences.

Squirrels still play under the Maple trees

Where in companionship we would sit together,

Watching in the afternoon breeze and shade.

It’s been only a year since you left us,

But we remember it like yesterday

With so many tears having fallen since.

I once wrote,

“Every boy needs a dog to remember as a man;

Every man needs a dog to bring out the little boy.”

Your passing took the little boy

And left the aging man

Full of memories.

©2019

Confusing

Life is confusing in two parts,

When you’re young,

When you’re old.

Everything in the middle just goes quickly.

©2018

I Did Not Serve…

 

 

 

 

 

 

I did not serve for Presidents or parades.

I did not serve for brass bands and marching feet.

I did not serve for glory or rank.

I did not serve for medals or political party.

I did not serve for status or station in life.

I served for a Nation and it’s ideals.

I served for the Constitution and it’s way of life.

I served for Freedom and Liberty.

I served for my friends and those I never met.

I served for traditions and long held values.

I served for duty and quiet dignity.

I served for a Nation that called and I answered.

I served for it was the right thing to do.

I did not serve for Presidents or parades.

©2018

The Parting of November

Today I awoke to a dreary, rainy morning filled with a chill in the air but as I arose from my night of slumber an annual event occurred.

It was like a switch being turned on in my soul and thereby prodding my brain to push forth memories of years gone by, smells plus sounds of holiday’s past and joys shared with those who are now ghosts in remembrance.

I’m completely befuddled when this happens.

I know, from many previous years, that it will happen, yet I’m always taken off guard when it does.

Late Autumn, and the approaching Winter, is a magical moment in the history of a year.

It’s quilts of color, chilly breezes and hues of many shades of grays seem to add a mystical fog to the early morn or dusk.

The days that the sun shines gives a gentle touch to the lengthening shadows and falling leaves of time.

Mix into this primeval scene an occasional early mist of snow, a fire built in the hearth, a candle burning on the mantle and dreams of childhood rush forth to play on the stage of an ever aging mind.

Dreams dance, leap and abound like the flames of the fire and candle upon the walls enclosing this aching frame.

I so do love this Season, this friend of my youth who re-appears faithfully and stirs my emotions, as tho an ex-lover that can not quite say goodbye but knows it must part as quickly as it re-appeared.

I know it has to give way to the stark cold and icy fingers of the Season to come but I wish it to stay longer so I can cherish and embrace the many illusions it provides, but no, this magical moment will not linger for it is only a pause before the drifts of Winter and Time.

So it moves on, leaving me to want, to wait and to wonder if I shall see and feel it’s splendor once again.

©2017

Fact of Life

Some people like me,

Some people don’t.

Some people tolerate me,

Some people won’t.

©2017

Autumn Has Arrived

Lonely is the morning hour.

The mist of early day kisses carpet earth.

Nature’s holy steeples of fir trees,

Stretch through the milky haze,  

Mysteriously spire to the grey heaven above.

The smell of pine and dampness,

Mingle in the air,

As tho incense from an ancient past.

Muted colors of leaves,

Bend to the rushing wind.

Autumn has arrived.

©2017

The Dreamer In Me

There is something about this time of year,

That brings out the dreamer in me.

I’m not sure if it’s the gray shades of the changing days or the crispness in the air.

It could be the shifting colours of the leaves in their announcement of the coming Winter,

Or the woody smell that hangs in the evening dusk,

But it never fails at this time of year that my primeval clock nudges my senses

And I awake from some muted daze and dream those fantastic dreams of years gone.

They dance within my minds eye

As flickering flames upon a hearth fire of some Celtic fable that occurred in a prior life.

Ah, Autumn,

Let me feel your breath upon my soul.

©2017

Mother’s Day 2017

MOTHER’S DAY 2017

Each day begins

     with sun or rain

          clouds of white or sky of grey

               breezes of gentle winds or turmoil.

But one thing remains the same with each awaking,

The thought of you and how you cared for me.

Day progresses

     with labor filled chores

          some consuming and others fleeting

               household tasks or just mundane.

But one thing remains the same with every hour,

The thought of you and how you cared for me.

As the dusk of day surrounds me

     as the quiet hour finds me taking peace in solitude

          as my prayers soar to heaven

               as my head lays to rest.

One thing eases me to sleep, as did your lullabies of my youth,

The thought of you and how you cared for me.

©THand

Years End

We celebrate the end,

The new beginnings and chances to make all things right.

To forget the past.

Yet the fact is,

We celebrate survival.

©1995

A December Morning Thought

There’s something comforting about sitting in a darken room on an early Sunday morning with just the tree lights twinkling and window candles lit, their single light sending a quiet guiding message of welcome into the morning darkness.

Comforting to have a loyal companion curled by your side and knowing the person you are madly in love with sleeps soundly and safely upstairs.

The soft melancholy sound of Elizabethan chorale music floating through the room is joined by the grandfather clock chiming the quarter hour and then back to the even tick tock, as it measures time.

The aches of the body and age melt away as remembrances of previous Christmases and family now gone play upon memories stage.

It is this time of day, that moment caught between the gray shade of night and mellow gray of morning that I love. The awakening of the world outside with morning bird songs and the yawn of nature.

©2014

One More Day

I wish,
I had one more day,
To say the things I feel.
One more day
To tell the truth,
One more hug,
One more smile,
One more “I love you.”
The years have gone by so quickly
But your leaving seems like a sunset ago.
So much left unsaid.
I’ve rehearsed what I would say
And wondered
If you’ve heard me,
Or read my thoughts
In your eternal rest.

Just one more day,
One more day.

©1994

Journey’s End

Beyond the white drifts
Of Winter’s cold crystals,
Is journey’s end.

A destination
Started so long ago.

It’s hidden out of view,
Just on the other side
Of the approaching vale,
And nestled near the glen
Of all my dreams.

©2010

It’s Alright

As a small boy,
When bad dreams caused me to wake in tears,
Mother’s hands would softly stroke my head,
Her tender voice would calm me,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Youth brought scraped knees
Plus many growing pains.
Mother tended my wounds,
And soothed my frustrations,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

When adulthood came,
It found me in uniform.
A nation in conflict upon a foreign soil.
Mother’s letters would arrive,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Careers have come and gone,
I’ve search for myself
In varied identities,
And always my Mother’s prayers,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Recently, Mother passed away
As gently as she lived.
The other night, as tho in childhood again,
A dream caused me to wake in tears,
And I heard my Savior’s voice,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

©1994

The Birthday Card

My heart is a playground for pain,
A schoolyard for children’s games
And I am caught in a world of solitary doubt.
I come to all with open arms,
Only to be tossed aside, useless, scorned
By friends and foe alike.
The search to find a companion
Is like the mariners of old
In quest of the new lands,
The new wealth, the new beauty
With the promise of life afresh.
Many I have spent time with,
Yet none return to seek solace
Or give freely
To this out of step rogue of a different age.
Love was in my arms once upon a dream,
And I held it tight to my chest,
Only to wake alone
And forgotten,
A memory upon a card.

©1983

The Dream

Pardon me,
I really don’t mean to disturb,
But have you seen my dream?
You see, I’ve lost it
And well, maybe you might know where it’s gone.

Please, don’t leave.
It might not seem important
And yes, it was a child’s dream
But men need to hold onto a part of their childhood.

What?
Find another dream.
No. I couldn’t do that.
You see, the others been with me for a long time.
Its been a faithful friend in times of despair,
A comfort when lonely,
So a new dream wouldn’t be the same.

Yes, I dream’t many things as a child
But this one, well it’s special
And I want to find it again,
For you see,
I need the dream and the dream needs me.

You’re right,
Dreams are just illusions.
Reality is built on many peoples dreams,
Illusions cemented together by a union
Of hard work; want; faith; love
And ignited in the heart
By a child’s dream.

You tell me to find a new dream.
No. For mine was unique and it was mine.
One of the few original parts
Of my spirit and being.

You can tell me that it was age,
Or when we grow-up we leave behind the youthful innocence,
But I’ll search on
And maybe in the near future,
I’ll round the corner,
And there with out stretched hands
Will be an old friend,
My dream, Smiling and asking,
“Where did you go?
I’ve been here all the time,
Waiting for you.”

©1980

New Year’s Eve

So it is,
So it has been,
So it will be.
In the middle of a Winter’s night,
We mortals deem to end
A cosmic fragment we call a year.
With a solemn stroke,
A clang of chimes,
A blow of horns,
With shouts, hugs, kisses.
Watch the dawn
And yearn for Spring.

©1996

A Word

Alone,
a word of awesome power
dealing a blow that crushes
and destroys each fiber
of the heart,
Alone.

©1977

Real Tomorrows

Fire-lit shadows dance upon the ceiling
And frost drapes the hedgerows in the lanes
And then it paints with icy fingers,
Lovely pictures on cottage window panes.

A haloed moon races in the heavens,
And stars, like angel lamps, are slowly lit.
‘Tis then, my dear, I would love to see you,
As by the fire-bright hearth I sit.

I explore the glowing castles in the embers,
And recreate my world as it was then,
But this contains memories of sadness
For I know dear heart, we can’t go back again.

So I say goodbye to dancing shadows,
And to frost on the hedgerows in the lane,
And to the lovely, winter chilled pictures
Painted on the cottage window panes.

Our lives are lived in a world of real tomorrows
Time takes its toll on dreams of “used to be,”
But there is one thing I know for certain
My youth was sweet because you cared for me.

©Doris Hand-Glock

Sanctuary Of Memories

Christmas night.

I close my eyes,
And slip into the sanctuary of memories.

There,
Echoes of a tune
That I sang in childhood.
A simple melody of my youth,
A carol of Christmas pageants gone.

Its centuries old refrain
Lingers among the hazy vision
Of specters now at rest.

Ancient words
Numb the body like a Winter chill
As I see the child I was
In the comfort
Of those who protected me.

Dizzy senses filled with pipe smoke.
Crackling fire lit logs,
Dancing bubble lights upon the tree,
Her gentle hand,
His warm smile,
Forever haunting.

The choir of my school days softly sing,
“Of all the trees that are in the woods,
The holly bears the crown.”

©2009

Fall In Ohio

Season of pause

Before the slumber

©1989

 

Autumn’s Reflection

Winter’s cold touch
lies hidden in the months to come,
yet in the gusts of Autumn
one senses the icy presence
lurking near.

Soon scattered leaves become a quilt
of many hue’s in a mosaic splendor.
Acorns fall upon the ground
as squirrels reap the harvest
and prepare for times ahead.
Chipmunks hurry to and fro,
their cheeks puffed full
and everywhere the eye beholds
color to adorn the majesty
of earth.

Soon the gilded trees
will stand bare to the breath
of Winter.

Soon the rushing winds
will turn to howls and drifts of snow,
but for now,
it’s Autumn,
that season which gives us pause
to reflect upon the months past
and the few to come.

©1983

Seniors Lament

In the silence of night
I hear the tick tock of time.

I feel the push of age
and the pull of the unknown.

©2009

The Curtain

Hanging so free,
So loose across the portal,
Revealing the light from without,
Yet protecting that which inhabits within.
In its opening,
The new begins,
And in its closing,
Life pauses,
Peering,
Waiting,
Watching,
All in anticipation
Of the curtain being lifted.

©2009

Port Of Call

Hear me
utter
woeful cries
upon a destined voyage
across the tempest sea.
My mind deformed,
sent into convulsions
on every notion it perceives.
Are facts mere fantasies?
I sanely progress
to the brink,
even to the crevice bottom of insanity.
Theories: the demon
housed within the nave of doubt,
which hangs
as a choking noose
around the fiber of existence, and
causes me to tremble.
Seek!
Journey to your port of call,
and there
every particle shall unfold.
Peace will reign,
contentment, sublime in silence.

©1963