Notes found on the refrigerator…June 4th. 2020

     I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.

      To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.

shit shines every night

along with the star light bright

“dew shine”, anyone ?

 

Notes found on the refrigerator…May 28th self-quarantined since Mars was discovered

May 28^th. 2020

     Be who you want to be with all its failures and success. Until you realize who you really are and that your destination is your journey.

     Then… life begins in the wisdom of understanding, acceptance, and with Blessings.

Flowers bloom in spring

Winter reaps in solid ground

Memories are now

 

Love: as ever has been

We have watched the sunrise

below the mountains and settle behind the sea.

 

 We have ridin’ the wind,

Walked beach sands and bused to Boston.

 

 We have taken pain

To the Joy of understanding.

 

 We have taken each other

Further than any of us have ever gone;

 

 By just being present.

True to ourselves. True to each other.

 

 We have been

As we are; as ever has been.

 

~Rt. 132 North~ R.K. Garon

 

~Pine Cone Diary~ March 2020

     **********

There is a sickness in the air

Tree tops are passing the news

To the stones and the soil

To prepare the paths

Through the forest

And into the valleys

To the villages of compassion;

To be cured .

 

     **********

 

Above darkening gray clouds

The dim glowing sun

Caught my eye.

I started to hum,

“Everything’s gonna’ be alright.”

As dusk, settled on my chair.

I silenced it with a sigh.

 

 **********

 

From ground to empty stoneware pottery,

my soul poured out my life

into my morning’s coffee cup;

existence to non-existence.

Oh, then to remembrance;

of knowledge, when I first held out my hand

—holding, the first summer’s rose.

I emptied my cup

holding empty stoneware pottery

waiting in anticipation for tomorrow’s coffee..

 

 

 

clunking down the stairs [youth’s uncommitted changes]

foot prints crinkled on glass became engraved

with the crack and snap of every step;

for every promise never made, or ever kept.

 

unable to sit still, push and pull had nothing to yield.

like a new suitcase with old clothes making another roll,

clunking behind me down the stairs.

 

i am afraid, I have made changes equal to a reupholstered chair.

both, may look different, but, it’s the same old framework

hidden under there.

 

mistakes in chaos spins from flower to seed,

 whether from garden or weed.

all is to be released from the wind of time,

hoping not to drop on stone

or any memory, we leave behind.

 

A Sonnet For My Solstice Child

Oh, shadow upon me as a steel gate

Keeps a fountain frozen; longing for spring.

In darkness, with the light’s promise, I wait

for the rising sun on new mornings’ wings.

 

Seeds beneath ice reject deaths history;

In a mind’s aging place of well-tilled soil.

Hands cold and crossed, holding joy’s poverty

In prayer, for passing summer’s last spoils.

 

Each day in lengthy dour to silver night, 

A child, my youth, an ember in my heart

Awakens in warmth beyond blackened light;

I await creation’s surprising spark;

 

I welcome the ‘morrow’s guest to arrive,

With gate left unlocked, for my solstice child.

 

Who Knows?

As i sit in anxious state waiting for Godot— hoping he never shows. Like a sparkle in a glass, asking me if i care to go? i will deny the invitation— i will stay and enjoy the sparkle— as all sparkles go.

Who Knows?

As i move in trepidation. Waiting for the fulfillment of my day, afraid of my responsibility when it is appears. So i deny its invitation— i will take this breath and walk behind it. Watching it fade, from rise, to descent, and feeling fear disappear.

who knows the mysteries

attributed to the ground i stand on

if traveled

i will have accepted its maze.

If understood,

I

will have accepted its direction.

 

 

Rev:14-19 *.*  ‘The Night Before Breakfast”

 

Notes found on the refrigerator August 2018

a wonderful rain

as the mist behind sun dries

enemies of peace

 

so …as the song goes

why do our heads hang so low

down in a valley

 

rising with a Love

as spring does resurrection

“We shall overcome”.

 

let’s get up with Joy

and show them our example

life goes back and forth

 

Mindless Scribbling

 

My heart is balanced with nothing.

Bags of emptiness, once full of expectations,

finally, have become

light as a feather.

 

Let us Pray

     Sir/Madam do not interpret with your own mind, the words of Divinity; having to explain what is held In the temple of my Soul.

     You only speak as the sinner you are. Now then, let us pray.

Without umbrella

Scent aromatic in clouds

Spring rain wakes summer.