EXHORTATION

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I missed the holidays that were and the company of loved ones and special friends now gone.  I find this to be true for those still around among family and friends who celebrated as I several decades of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve.  The festive atmosphere, shimmering lights and decorations and hoopla for the holidays still hold some appeal.  But not like before.  And, as the years go on, the appeal wanes a little bit more each holiday season.  Tried as I have, it seems impossible to prevent this gradual feeling of ennui from setting in.  It appears to be as unavoidable as is the passage of time and growing age. 

I think the older we get the less appealing and less fun become the holidays is something that really begins to happen when we hit our fifties. For some, maybe during their forties.  This is because as the years go on we lose more and more loved ones and friends.  And so it is at this point in my life I don’t really celebrate the holidays.  I acknowledge them and still realize their importance and reverence.  But they’re more a fun and joy to younger people, in my opinion.  To us older folk, they become more and more bittersweet and continually rife with past memory.

The only decent advice I have to give is cherish the holidays that were and the better memory you can keep until the end.  Most of all, cherish those loved ones and friends now gone, and the ones still with you until the end!  Hopefully in a better way, my poem here will tell you what I mean.

Patrick The Poet

 

EXHORTATION

I will always feel love that is true and magnificent
And hear lovers repeat words that are well worth repeating,
(So it is with true friends who share every careful greeting);
And yet, though love is potent and happiness is well meant,
I would tell them to hold on to every precious moment,
For love is frail…and happiness is so very fleeting.

For I have felt the spark of hope and the sunlight beaming
Through the eons of life that selfishness and greed distort
(Which truth and wisdom often fail to repair or comfort);
And though there are those who dream of sunlight always gleaming,
I would tell them to hold on to every dream they’re dreaming,
For dreams are such fragile things…and life is so very short.

A LEGACY OF FLOWERS

FLOWERSLove and beauty go so well with colorful flowers and the softness they impart.  This poem is all about this and about a host of flowers that sometimes love leaves behind as a legacy to visit you each and every year after it is forever gone.

Patrick The Poet

A LEGACY OF FLOWERS
 
This infinite day has been lonely for far too long,
And somewhere I see you where the past never settles.
In granules of beauty which time cannot turn out wrong–
Nor days when I kissed your lips as soft as rose petals.
 
But somewhere in time days turned into years long gone,
In this place where we lived amidst sown valleys and hills.
In vast, vivid colors was my heart nurtured and drawn,
Come every spring in roses, tulips and daffodils!
 
Ah, they grow there now as they did long before I left;
As spring turns to summer and growth comes to every tree.
Still, your heart unfolds there, though my own has grown bereft–
Years ago that seem like days when death stole you from me.
 
No matter this, I know that somewhere beyond the grave,
Life lives, and my heart is a legacy of flowers.
Brimming amidst all the love we ever shared and gave,
Beyond this time on earth that unfolds like mere hours!
 
I still live among roses, tulips and daffodils–
The alchemy of gold and other precious metals.
For soon, someday, I shall dwell among valleys and hills,
In a garden…kissing lips as soft as rose petals!

I double-dog-dare-ya!

I remember almost all these things, and I feel too young to!  But sometimes the past is the best thing we have…or used to have.

Patrick The Poet

 


You may have seen this one before, but isn’t it fun to remember all over again!

And, for those of you too young to remember, consider it a lesson in ancient history!

DO YOU REMEMBER  WHEN…?

All the girls had ugly gym uniforms?


It took five minutes for the TV to warm up?


Nearly everyone’s Mom was at home when the kids got  home from school?

Nobody owned a purebred dog?

When a quarter was a decent allowance?

You’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny?


Your Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces?




All your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done every day and wore high heels?


You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, all for free, every time? And you didn’t pay for air? And, you got trading stamps to boot?


Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box?




It was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.


They threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed. . .and they did?

      

When a ’57 Chevy was everyone’s dream car…to cruise, peel out, lay rubber, or watch submarine races, and people went steady?




No one ever asked where the car keys were because they were always in the car, in the ignition, and the doors were never locked?



Lying on your back in the grass with your friends

and saying things like, ‘That cloud looks like a…’

Playing baseball with no adults to help kids with the rules of the game?


Stuff from the store came without safety caps and hermetic seals because no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger?

And with all our progress, don’t you just wish, just once, you could slip back in time and savor the slower pace? Share it with the children of today. 

When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited the student at home?

Because we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn’t  because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Our parents and grandparents were a much bigger threat! But we survived because their love was greater than the threat.


Send this on to someone who can still remember Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Laurel and Hardy, Howdy Dowdy and the Peanut Gallery, the Lone Ranger, The Shadow Knows, Roy and Dale and Trigger, and Buttermilk.


as well as summers filled with bike rides, baseball games, Hula Hoops, bowling and visits to the  pool, and eating Kool-Aid powder with sugar.

Didn’t that feel good, just to go back and say, ‘Yeah, I remember that’?




I am sharing this with you today because it ended with a double dog dare to pass it on. To  remember what a double dog dare is, read on. And remember that the perfect age is somewhere between old enough to know better and too young to care.

How many of these do you remember?

Candy cigarettes



Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water inside.


Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles.



Coffee shops with tableside jukeboxes.




Blackjack, Clove, and Teaberry chewing gum.




Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers.



Newsreels before the movie.


P.F. Fliers.



Telephone numbers with a word prefix…(Raymond 4-601).  Party lines.


Peashooters.

Howdy Dowdy.




Hi-Fi’s & 45 RPM records.


78 RPM records!




Green Stamps.


Mimeograph paper.

The Fort Apache Play Set.


Do you remember a time when…


Decisions were made by going ‘eeny-meeny-miney-moe’?

Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, ‘Do  Over!’

‘Race issue’ meant arguing about who ran the fastest?


Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening?



It wasn’t odd to have two or three ‘Best Friends’!


The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was ‘cooties’!


Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a slingshot?


Saturday morning cartoons weren’t 30-minute commercials for action figures?


‘Oly-oly-oxen-free’ made perfect sense?


Spinning around, getting dizzy, and falling down was cause for giggles?

The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team?

War was a card game?




Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle?


Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin?




Water balloons were the ultimate weapon?




If you can remember most or all of these, then you have lived!!!!!!!

Pass this on to anyone who may need a break from their ‘grown-up’ life . . .

I double-dog-dare-ya!

EULOGY TO LOVE

DUALITY

Sometimes a thing can be happy and sad at the same time, and too painful to deal with but also incredible beautiful that you just can’t turn away from it.  This duality exists in many things in life I believe.  But what can you do but embrace the very thing you know you cannot bear to hold and suffer in your heart? What can you do when you know you cannot live without the very thing that will kill you?  Here is a poem about this very subject we all must face at some time in our lives.

–Patrick The Poet

EULOGY TO LOVE

I fold my arms around you,
You slip into my embrace.
While the anguish of my tears
Seems mirrored upon your face.

So I imagine them there,
Like sunlight on rainy days;
My lips kissing memories,
Like sweet lies the truth betrays.

Still I savor one last kiss,
Then lift you into your grave.
One last kiss to court the past,
And the life love failed to save.

Gone is the warmth of your lips,
Gone the treasure of your breath.
And though everything is gone,
You are beautiful in death!

For a faint smile lines your face.
Sunlight lingers in your hair.
And though life seems present still,
It’s as lifeless as despair!

Were it I could steal away
And give even one more kiss.
Instead of embracing death,
And giving more tears to this!

Yet such are life’s memories
Death scars with tears and regret:
Too painful to remember.
Too beautiful to forget.

DRIFTWOOD

Driftwood you find along an errant beach can symbolize many things.  For me, it symbolizes what is now lost and dead–like love, and the memory of someone you took long walks with along an errant beach and thought would never leave or die.  That’s what this poem here is about.  It’s one I wrote a long time ago and even before the actual event came true.  Then it did.  And the poem became more than just words and what I feel every time I take a walk along any errant beach.

 

DRIFTWOOD
 
 
While the open sea closes around me
And winds chill this warm evening night,
I dwell on sweet, solemn thoughts of thee…
Now constant reminders of my loveless plight.

Then evening darkens and the ocean sings,
As sparse roaring waves crash upon a nearby reef.
There my desperate, desolate soul still clings
Waiting for evening tide to drown my grief!

Yet time has a way of making old the new,
And this ocean shore I walk in torment
Is but another remembered vision of you
When love was alive and never ill-spent!

So, even though I never understood
Why death came to take you from me,
The tide brings you back each night as driftwood 
In sonic memories of us together by the sea…
To quiet and soften now the sorrow in me.

GARDENS OF MEMORIES

Just as an actual garden can be full of hundreds and even thousands of precious flowers of so many different kinds and variety, so is the humand mind a garden of sorts–a garden of hundreds of thousands of memories.  And they are memories of every kind and variety.  They are memories mostly of what is worth remembering and mean the most to you–the memories of love and happiness and beauty and joy, things that are positive and bring a smile to your face and put a longing in your heart.  All this is what this poem of mine is about–all the gardens and memories we poor humans plant and harvest and cannot forget.  But somehow often must learn to say goodbye to.  That also is part of having a garden and sowing lots of memories: knowing when to say goodbye to the living past and living things that now make up your gardens of memories.

 

GARDENS OF MEMORIES
 
I know it’s time to go to sleep.
I know it’s time to shut out light.
And now because all hope is gone,
I know it’s time to say goodnight.
Winter has filled this empty room,
Though our hearts are still young with spring.
And while life may live somewhere near,
I know death touches everything.
 
For there are flowers unwatered.
And gardens that lie unplanted.
Pity the dreams that lived unreached!
And those who take love for granted.
Soon, mine shall be but memories,
And the past to keep me going.
As for these flowers and gardens,
Bitterness prevents from sowing!
 
So no gardener shall I be,
Who sought words to sow and flourish.
For there is life from hate of death
Which no words of love can nourish.
Reality is the harsh curve,
Like the earth curves around the sun;
For love makes of us poor poets
Who see hope gone, but never done!
 
So let fantasy cast its net,
Like clouds that encircle the wind.
For poets are hopeless dreamers
Who dare think life should never end.
And though I listen to your heart,
As I would listen to my own,
Were it I could die forever…
Before my heart should beat alone!
 
So I pray for the Hereafter.
I pray with kisses soft and sweet.
I pray for hope and salvation,
And for reality’s defeat!
But there is only winter here,
And the closing of eyes and breath.
There is no springtime of hope here.
Only gardens harvesting death.
 
So I kiss the cold lips of it.
I kiss the eyelids of your eyes.
I kiss gardens of memories,
And shall till every flower dies!
Then I pray again to Heaven.
I pray you will know its reward.
I pray that God is merciful…
And His mercy may sheathe death’s sword.