Oddities, Profundities, Profanities and Dad Stuff
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Hello everyone! So I went fishing for the first time this year this past weekend. Didn’t catch anything but a whole potload of mosquito bites. Anyway, way back when we were studying Keats in school and the “Ode on a Grecian Urn” caught my attention more for the title than anything else.
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Hey Folks I don’t know if anyone is actually reading this blog anymore or if the traffic I am getting is just from google bots, but I am still going to post some stuff.
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Thanks for your support this year, in just a week will be my one year anniversary on my self hosted site…
And now, a poem! I don’t have a title for this one, maybe you guys can help.
The dead lay rotting on the blighted ground,
Good, bad, evil, pure, the bodies of all are littered around.
Women weep, Children cry out.
Our hero stands alone on the field of death,
Surrounded by carnage, it is for the best.
With a flourish of his cloak and a nod to the crowd,
our hero vanishes in a magical cloud.
As soon as it began, the revolution was done,
The memory fading with the setting of the sun.
Indebted all were to the nameless wraith,
A hero born of fear, imagination, and faith.
Yet he fades in sweet memory even as we speak,
and for now he is gone, faded into the past…..
I have been looking at some poems that I have written and stored away. Some haven’t seen light for years, some more recent.
None have been published anywhere before. Most all of them are written longhand in script that matures as it grows newer.
I look at some of them and think that they may be too personal to share. But then again that is kind of the point right? To let others see deep down into my soul.
Today, a poem called Darkness.
Darkness
Enveloping, Overpowering.
Creeping into my deluded mind.
Knowing naught where to run, I sit.
Pondering, Wondering.
About life, troubles, strife.
Somewhere I’ll find solace from the pain…
A beacon of light shines from the dark.
Love.
Creeping towards……me?
Freedom on the Horizon?
Away from all trash?
I yearn for this release,
The release from poetic pain,
The release from the darkness,
that is surrounding me with its inky cloak.
Comments are open below, please digg, stumble, or retweet as you will.
-Justin
Hello Folks! Well today I have something slightly different for you. For various reasons, including my sons birthday, my regular fiction Saturday needs a change. There is not an episode of The Man in the Hazy Suit today.
But, in order to not fill you up with crap or something that doesn’t have any heart, I have dug out one of my favorite poems. I wrote this poem a few years ago and it is still one of my favorite things that I have ever written. Please enjoy.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
A patient Man is he.
Waiting through storms, the winds,
While wading in the Stream.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
Is hoping for a dream,
A Rise, a Strike, a Fighting Fish
Taken from the Stream.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
Imitation is his aim,
As he strives for natural perfection,
To ever cast, and play the game.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
And waits for fish to rise,
Will toil countless hours away,
Under natures azure skies.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
And wonders what it means,
Will solve what ails, his truth prevail,
Walking further up the Stream.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
In harmony is he,
The Land, the Brook, the Man, the Fish,
Content to just let be.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
And reels in trophy fish,
Releases same, to swim again,
Knowing all is worth the risk.
Who casts his fly upon the waters,
A patient Man is he.
Waiting through storms, the winds,
While wading in the Stream.
Have a great weekend everyone!
-Justin
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