Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Monday, April 30, 2012


This, for Open Link Night #42
Dverse Poets  Pub
Come HERE after 3 PM Tuesday, 
and leave a piece of yourself.


After many 
of soul-seared
he at last believed
his ears:

"You are stupid, useless;
You are a lazy, crazy
piece of worthless
Plain insanity.

Always you dreaming,
forever seeming
ensconced within yourself.
OH! Your vanity.”


Gone by now are numerous birthdays.
Whole new nests of friends
arrive to rest their 'ends'
on porch swings, steps, and
handmade wooden chairs at his
damp-coffee-colored kitchen table.

LIFE for them--him--has ripened, to settle...
so like ancient, heavy, dented kettle
sitting contentedly nearby
under its steam—released
cloud, no more loud.
however, they, nor the pot
--anytime near deceased!

You are your worst own enemy.”
Piercing word heard so far ago.
He knew now its meaning,
yet back then, did NOT.

Gathered assemblage discussed that
lives--of which they'd deeply tasted,
Thank God
had not been annulled, deleted.
They decided and reached a conclusion,
that their lives had not gone to pot.
They had no claim
to shame

He reached back 
to discard some memories:

"You are stupid, useless;
You are a lazy, crazy
piece of worthless
Plain insanity."

He smiled
He lived
and, from the  heart of him
He loved...

May 1, 2012

  IMAGE:  downpour by
      in DeviantArt

Saturday, April 28, 2012



Sonnie is her sweetest name.
My first really hottest flame.
She played the piano--and sang.
That big bell in my head—rang.

I'll drink one more to-ya!"
(Reader, I wish you to know
this was so long ago...)

Recall loving on the beach,
smelling...the warm salty spray,
sea-oats that bent to sway
as we each twisted to reach

place of seldom-known bliss
--which started only with a kiss.
We had fun, and like a couple mating bees
ended up with four very sore knees.

Sonnie, remember we toweled sand from one another?
And that most beautiful night, you became a mother
to our future first-born, a baby girl. She survived...
You died--on that terrible morning she arrived...


Sonnie, only one ever shall match your beauty:
Yes! Right! Our little girl, our darling cutie.
As living still—YOU!
named “Sonnie-Too”


 Image:   Love is Over
--by gilad in DeviantArt

Tuesday, April 24, 2012


At age six
I ran away from home.
It's hard to 
run away from home
when you're not allowed
to cross the street.

Then, until age sixty-six
my life, a flurrying blur of
fact and fiction, avowing
to all the Peeps I meet--
I had crossed many a street

 Nearing age seventy-nine
and Oh yes! I feel fine!
In unison voices, aloud,
hear them? Listen! 
“Run away, Peep.
 But don't cross the street!”

Hear sweetest bird-sounds
and a violin in the woods.
See tombstones of the dying
and ashes of the dead.
And someone said,
in foreign code,
Do not cross that road!”

April 2012

Posted for D'versePoets Pub
- OpenLinkNight -
every Tuesday,
starting at 3 pm EST.

Photos courtesy of a friend 

Saturday, April 21, 2012


Returning from Tampa Florida, 
I came across Mile Marker 191, 
stopped, took a couple shots, 
and was inspired to post about 
the 'true meaning' of Mile 191
Note: This is NOT
the original 191, as is
depicted in her story


Once upon a time a girl—age 9--was being introduced to sex. It was, like, 'all in the family'; predator-rapist: her sick, sick stepfather. Locked in her closet for periods during many years, she suffered all the physical pain and mental torment one could, or could not, imagine in that situation.

When her little sister became age 9, the stepfather made advances toward new new younger one. So big sister—to protect her baby sister—let herself be 'used' by the stepfather until one day he was forced to move out.

Their mother would not accept reality of the situation, remained in denial, blaming the girl(s) for everything, even for the stepfather leaving them.

Prayer Girl and I 'met' older sister (recovering from many things) 3½ years ago on her blog. Recently we have been again in touch. For a real-life, heart-hurting story of evil, and an amazing account of recovery, I give you her BLOG as it is today. Her introductory link of November 2008 (brief) is HERE.
The 'real' story begins with THIS specific link.
LOVE and PEACE, my friends.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012


On a day of days I dreamed a dream
of meeting face-to-face,
who God might chose .
Before everything happened, God picked
a soul to merge with mine, to
become WE for endless eternity.


On windy, winding river bank
I walked. And talked
with a snake, snail and a shell.

Not complaining about the sandy mire
in which sunk my feet,
I spoke of what
my mind thought and soul desired

Our conversation continued
as they said to me:

"All life is twain:
One, a frozen stream;
the other, a burning flame.
And that burning flame is LOVE!”*

Far distant, I saw one
heavenly being approach me
from another direction.
Her feet did not touch dirty sand.

"What is your name?”
No sound, but I heard, “LOVE!”
Vision beautiful said, without speaking,
"God sent me, lent me, to you.
You are me.
I am you.
One are we.
Friends in body, mated in soul.
Our union—blessed--shall not end with time.
Eternity is now, this moment, which IS 'now and forever'. 

Nothing must be counted--ever--after this time.”

Poem by steveroni
*Quote by Kahlil Gibran in “The Prophet”
Images: Google Images

Saturday, April 14, 2012


This almost didn't get posted.
Some force pushed to publish:


"...follow the yellow brick road..."
Scooter trip Friday to Tampa was like a dream. You can believe this or not...while riding I prayed for two Peeps who are having rough times this week. As I meditated, three hours passed as twenty minutes. (That was exaggeration—grin!) OK Peeps, I'll get down and personal, got nothing to lose—grin!


I contemplated, my mind felt like 'in training'. Much more than one of 'those' moments. Emptied of all busyness, God's Goodness settled into my brain. Gratitude—not for specifics, but for the Gift of all life--overtook Suzuki's 85 mph.

As mile markers tried to catch Suzuki and me, reflection kept me in a state of --difficult to explain--like experiencing grace, a feeling of safety, not from natural disaster, but, well, I felt suddenly shielded from the enemy, e.g., from concupiscence. If I followed God's Will, I'd be 'untouched', so to speak? What I needed, wanted, was faith. I received a blind faith during this travel-time. “The gift of Faith”, I've heard and read. Indeed! It is so--a gift!

Is it finally—at last—time to let God take over my life, run the show? So what happened? I lost my driver's license, not misplaced... LOST! Prior to this day, I would have panicked. But it did not happen. Peeps, this is big-time for me! So...first test passed!

Later, still in relaxed mode, someone asked me if I lost my DL. They had found it! It seemed as a reward (I KNOW this ain't so!) for passing my first-day exam. Will let you know how this works out—truth will be posted in 30 days. Meanwhile, I'm sober, happy and free...and that IS truth, OK?


Thursday, April 12, 2012



Leaving Friday morning on a 200-mile weekend ride to Tampa FL, for an AA Area Assembly. Hopefully I'll find time to read, comment, and blog with some of you wonderful Peeps.

Been missing you. Confession:  I've been a defector (Face book).

Life is full...and happy. Sobriety does not guarantee 'happy', but it helps!

Sobriety DOES guarantee JOY! No Matter What (NMW!).

Ride safe. Stay sober. And I will, too!


Thursday, April 5, 2012


Please Click HERE to view the

Beauty of Creation: SOUND ON!

Written 4-4-78: 
In memory of my father Steve Elsaesser Sr.
Using phrases from his last letter to us, 
one week before his death, by my wife
Nancy Elsaesser, now deceased
He was deaf/blind

In the spring
You called him home

Crocus bloom
Buds are springing

He spaded and planted,
Daffodils and tulips still growing

In the spring
You called him home

New birth for us all,
Wild animals and birds

Pear tree much alive,
Thanks again

In the spring
You called him home

Blind and Deaf
He sees and hears

Crocus Blooming
Buds are springing

In the spring
Of the Risen Christ
You called him home.


 One more short poem:
4-4-78 In memory of Steve Elsaesser Sr.

God, You took my friend
I love him so...

He was a God-like man
But that You know.

You took him in the spring
About the time You took
Your Son.

He was blind and deaf, Lord
You gave him such a
Huge Cross.

But Pop never HAD a cross.
ASK him.

He loved Your world
And he saw it with
Your eyes, Lord.
He saw it with love.

It's a lonely-looking world
Now, Lord
I'll close my eyes, Lord
From time to time
Maybe I can see
What Pop saw.

You were right, Lord
"The blind shall see."

Please Lord, tell him I miss him so.  

--Nancy Elsaesser

Image in Deviant

rose by ~klefer