Posted in Life, Prose

The Only Words

The only words I have
empty are,
they have lost their meaning
while I have lost my way

My thoughts, distant
and not clear
deceive me
making me think
feel, believe
that life
empty
has become,

I know
that with time
things will change
and I with them

Making my words
again worthy

To write

Posted in Prose, Relationships

A Moth to the Flame

Her silhouette
etched into my memory
like her shadow gracing
that wall by
the sea,
the waves crashing
endlessly behind her
their cadence, a rhythm
their power, unseen under
the surface,
I chanced about
the smells of baked apples
vanilla and cinnamon
steaming and scenting
your way about,
in and about,
“Hold me”
you said while face
me, you did not
looking to the side
out to the sea,
the birds cried your name
again,
Drawn to her
the madness instilled
in me
like a moth to the flame
bending to the left, then
bending to the right,
not being able to decide,
Your inherent loneliness
hard to separate
hard to change,
your innermost self
chose the way
you were,
and I

drawn to the madness
like a moth to the flame

first to the left
then to the right
never being able
to decide
which direction

was the best….

Posted in Family, Prose

Being Here

The difference
between being here
and being gone,
a matter of moments
might be,
A feeling of something
wrong,
a sudden gasp, a cry
then unconsciousness,
“If only, she had been alone”
the doctor said,
“If only, she had been alone,
we wouldn’t have had to make
decisions, that hurt
making them”
Being here
just a moment ago
getting ready to do
the usual thing,
Being here
together with you
just a normal day,
not normal, at all
it seems,
“She was here
just a moment ago
we spoke, we laughed”
Being here
just not in a state
of consciousness
Being here
for all intents and purposes
just not knowing exactly
where that is?
Everyone present, almost
hearing about you
Everyone talking,
encouraging
you,
to wake up
encouraging you
to be here, again
among the living
the talk, the laughter
just a normal day
not normal, at all
it seems,
Decisions are made
hard ones
choices that aren’t equaled
choices that aren’t pleasant
to think about,
If only, you had been here
If only, you had made your voice
known,
those decisions would have been
easier,
those decisions would have made
more sense,
Being here
together with you
while you are
being gone,
No signs of recognition
no smiles, nor laughter
no sense of the you
being here,
just a moment ago
you were
here,
together with us

just a moment ago…

Posted in California, Family, Life, Prose

We Were Just Talking

The other day
the other year
40 years ago
or so,
We were laughing about
or, were we just talking
about
my memory fades
and tricks me
you know?
We were playing
when we were kids
up in the mountains
at the ocean
we were just playing
when we were younger,
You are not very
talkative
lying there, while I speak
lying there, dreaming
in your sleep,
We were just together
the other day, it seems
we were talking about
what I can’t remember now
We were together,
when mom went away
all those years ago
just talking, were we,
The other day
when you chose to go away
caught me unawares
and me being
so many hours away
being so many thoughts
away,
I was just talking to you
when the machines were turned
off,
You were just there
looking so peaceful, waiting
waiting for someone,
waiting for someone
to take you home,
I’ll sit here
just a bit longer
looking at you
as if we were kids again,
40, no 50 years ago
saying something
We were just playing
and talking like we did,
we were just saying,
telling a story,
You were smiling then,
like you are smiling now,
and I,
am hovering over you
even though
we are only speaking
in my mind,

As if we were kids again
playing some silly game
with mom calling us home

Calling us home….

Posted in Denmark, Travel

Beer Tasting in Aalborg, Denmark

The other night after work, I attended “Beer Tasting” sponsored by our employee club at work.

It started out innocent enough, with one beer, a small plastic cup and a lot of anticipation from the 15 or so participants.

The first beer was a Pilsner, which tasted all right, but our expectations wouldn’t just accept a normal tasting beer like that. We might as well have been drinking Tuborg or Carlsberg, which are known over the whole world.

belgian

Beer number 2, Belgian Tripel was a far cry from the first Pilsner. Things were looking up, and the chips and nuts began to fly as well.

drunken sailor

I apologize for not setting things in the correct order, but there was talking, and laughing, and my boss to my right who felt that I wasn’t enjoying myself enough with those small cups of beer, so he helped me attain another state of reality.

all beers

Beer number 3, named Drunken Sailor began to resemble a simple evening get-together after work with some friends, turned Christmas Party with cares and worries forgotten, as well as why we had been there in the first place?

The beers became darker, as shown with the above two: Dark Ale and Anker Porter. I imagined working on a Danish Oil Platform somewhere in the North Sea, drinking, or perhaps pumping up the last two beers, which resembled motor oil, and tasted nothing like the first 3, more proper types.

Our host told of their stories, and the musical entertainment was throbbing silently in the background, when my head told me that tomorrow would be less fun than today. Unfortunately, my memory wasn’t listening at the time, which made me continue to enjoy myself, while the beer flowed.

When the party/tasting was over, some of the rest of my best buddies wandered/weaved over to the local Pub in order to continue the high as long as possible, while I chose to go home and consider sleep instead.

I’d like to tell you that the next day dawned as brightly as the previous one, but my head told me to keep my eyes closed, drink a lot of water, and not think too much about the night before.

Beer Tasting, Danish Style

PS Someone asked me the next day if my hair hurt? Yes, it did, but I probably had worn a hat of the incorrect size the night before…

Posted in Prose

The Web

I stood
on the finest
web
glistening
in the morning
dew
the intricate
patterns quivered
as my leap
of the imagination
threw me
into the day

the most perfect
somersault
ever executed….

Posted in Learning, Life, Poetry, Prose

Beginnings, Endings

I am told of how I began
this life, living, breathing
Of this, remember I do not
but the mere fact of me being
existing, thinking, seems
to confirm this fact,
When I am no more
will I know it? will I know of the end?
If the beginning has no memory
will the ending be the same?
Is it better to have the ones I love
the ones who love me, present?
Or will they only forget
to remember, who I am
who I was?
Existing in this time frame
right now, being alone at this moment
I might just exist as someone
who I once knew, who I once had been

Beginnings, Endings
one in the same
never the one, nor the other
never being
never leaving…