Noble Basement

To you, the wary stranger,
the basement
is never appealing.
It's gaping entries
and inky corners yawn, hungrily
waiting like a sadistic recluse
for prey.
But we, the familiar,
treasure the memories enshrouding
this noble basement,
with chilled walls
and particular doors
worn by unforgiving years
and the rough use of family and friends
long past.
A feeble bulb sprinkles light, sparingly
illuminating the wreckage.
For us, the residents,
like ghosts of past lineage
gliding over the silky stones,
this is our blessed home.

What Scenery Is Like

I was digging through a box of old books and found a folder containing some of my writings from 2003-04. Most of them were pages of nonsense, but I came across this bit of poetry and thought I'd share it with you. I hope you like it.

Scenery is like an old quilt -
From a distance, the same as all the rest,
but up close, unique, different, with charm all it's own.

Scenery is like a cloud -
Silently shifting, moving, changing,
Almost imperceptibly, reflecting it's past, revealing it's future,
Yet never exactly either, but the present.

Scenery is like old age -
Always worn, venerable, noble,
But still friendly, comforting, caring, living.

Scenery is like the ocean -
Breathtaking, beautiful, awesome,
with wave on wave
rolling,
surging,
crashing,
breaking,
receding,
extending endlessly outward, onward, beyond the horizon.

National Limerick Day

'Tis National Limerick Day,
which we all should observe in some way;
So I tried a long time
to come up with a rhyme
but if I thought of one, I won't say.

New Friends: Kit Taylor

The Hudson Bar and Grill was fairly empty for 4:30. I checked my phone - I should have enough time to get a couple of songs played on the lobby piano before the scheduled pianist arrives at 5 o'clock - time to get my name and talent out there!
Ah, but I forget that my plans are fickle. As I walked through the front doors I spotted him - sharply dressed, with a vest and stylishly unkempt 5 o'clock shadow, he was rearranging the tip jar and setting out his albums. I was too late to play, but just in time to talk to the pianist!
I we exchanged names and started talking about show biz. Like most pianists, Kit showed enthusiasm and passion for the the one thing we had in common: music. He encouraged me to continue to talk to pianists, and to hand out business cards whenever possible (I had some on the way, but they've been delayed - of all the luck!). He also encouraged me to learn the top 10 most popular solo piano songs - songs like Piano Man, Misty, and other classics. If you know these songs, and have a couple of others to add on in between, you'll be set for life.
Kit invited me to stay around until 5, bid me good day, picked up his copy of John Grisham's The Associate, and retired to do some reading. Not to miss the chance to drink in the music of a master, I sat down to wait for 5 o'clock.
I was not to be disappointed. As the hour arrived, the sounds of a jazz standard flowed out from the grand piano, turning the previously diconnected sounds of the restaurant into a symphony of joyful busyness. I closed my eyes and watched the music in my mind's eye....

Fireside notes float,
unnoticed, like a spark
borne on a puff of fairy breath.

Must music always drift away?
Or does it stay,
Like a lonely mist of forgotten love?

The Parchment

This poem was inspired by the blank piece of paper which lay in front of me, evidence of a lack of inspiration in other forms... proof that something can indeed come of nothing. Enjoy. -

White piece of paper

blank and lifeless,

possibilities

bring you purpose.

Ideas will form

on your pallid face;

black, black ink bringing

shape, and space.

Plans have beginning

within your borders,

treaties and charters

bring peace and order.

We write of love

and we write of war,

how to get rich and

why you're still poor,

we don't know the answers,

but we'll still write more -

after all, isn't that what

the parchment is for?

Dripping Lesson

"Rain, rain, go away,
come again another day."
the thoughtless plea of impatient souls
is running through my head.

Calling on fate, or the weather, or the rain gods
to satisfy me instantly with sunny skies and happy times,
while God, who sees beyond the weather
is readying for days ahead.

"Rain, rain, go away,"
I pout and whine incessantly;
sometimes out of pain and fear
and others of uncertainty.

But while I strain, and fight, and cry
against unfairness and inequality, my loving Friend is watering -
my God, who sees beyond the present
is preparing for the future.

"Finally! The rain is gone!"
I shout in careless happiness
as flowers bloom, and sunshine falls
so gently on my face;

And, smiling just as gently, warmly,
lovingly, down on my joy, in His simple, yet infinite wisdom
the God who brought me here reminds me,
"Be thankful for the rain."