SEVEN

Posted for Dverse after 3 PM Tuesday

Like seven sisters

on high wire

i'm sighting

is this real?

wire on high

through which

power flows, sits

fourteen tiny feet

fourteen eyes

ogling us

seven voices in the choir

sweet sounds

singing sweeter

birdsongs.

night after night

for three

singing for you

and me

--for what it's worth

gone on the fourth :'(

seven little birds

fluffy white clouds

seven virtues

seven sins

singing in wind

seven sisters

wired high

sisters: seven

in sky

my friends of evenings

you'll be missed

while you were here

I felt specially

loved and kissed

PEACE!

--Steve E

seven_by_call_me_evie-d32yqmb
in Deviant Art

SLIPPERY SEED

Each morning, in darkness, I ride out from the garage to an early AA meeting. Annually at this time thousands of seeds fall onto our driveway. Yesterday morning "Humpty-Dumpty" (me) had a great fall, slipping uncontrollably on those rounded pieces of God's Creation. I talked to God immediately, even used the word "damn"....Photo is of two of these trees, right outside our garage door.

LESSONS
IN LIFE!





from palm tree falls

what no longer needs

tiny little balls,

tiny small seeds

on which i slip

glide and slide.

in the early dewy morn

scooter takes a flip.

alone, forlorn,

down comes me,
bike and all

the pain, the hurt,

leg feels a burn.

i grunt...exert

when will i learn?

tomorrow won't weep

nor do any raving

for tonight i sweep

all balls off the paving

--steve e

PRAYING FOR YOU PEEPS

AMENDED: We are now receiving rain and 25 m/p/h/ 

gusts so far away (200 miles) from the storm center.

Significance is that we can tell even more, 

what a dangerous lady is Irene...12 noon Eastern

Dear Peeps who live on the 

eastern seaboard, and inland

it is time to be responsible to yourselves. Please do not act from fear, but do whatever you are able to protect your lives first and then property.



My urgent prayer is for your safety in Charleston, SC and on northward to Maine and beyond. I ask that God will spare you any tensions and stress which are not necessary of that..


Already this Thursday morning at 6 AM I felt strong breezes from this Hurricane Irene, and we are 200 miles to the west of her inimitable forces.


With LOVE, I wish for all of you...SAFETY and PEACE!
Sincerely,

Steve E.

Image of the gold cross is my own, 

which I wear for you Peeps in way 

of the storm this weekend.....S

TWO-YEAR-OLD MEMORY

Yesterday I wrote a poem about Wanderlust. I have been riding motor bikes or scooters 64 years. Wanderlust is certainly not a whim-of-the-moment nor an old-age fancy. One of many stories of my 'ride' in 2009 follows. Photo below is simple a joke--grin!-- OK?

 A MEMORY

 
August 2009.

Two years ago.

I was riding my scooter on Blue highway US 301, headed north toward Richmond Virginia. Destination: Charlottesville. Enjoying the morning air, sunshine, I had been riding for four hours, and, stopping for a red light, heard my cell ringing. I spotted a vacant gas station, and stopped there to answer my phone and maybe relax a bit, get my GPS bearings, and make necessary use of a tree behind the building.

While I was talking to the caller, a well dressed man walked out from the garage area, and I saw him checking out (admiring!) my bike. It turned out he owned this newly built, not yet open, station. He went inside to bring me several bottled waters. Me...gratitude!

NOTE: On the rear fender of my scooter is a bumper sticker which had been sent me 3 years ago from a blogger named Scott (anonymous!). The sticker in bold letters pronounced “SOBER”.

Across the street we bought a couple sandwiches, played a chess match (which was no match!). Since I was wayyy out of practice, I was royally defeated in battle, but a winner in spirit.

During this time together we talked about his business (built just two years too late), about my bike trip, about Naples Florida where I live, and his (and of course, mine) favorite topic, Alcoholics Anonymous. I spent two hours in that town, Stony Creek, where most of the Peeps were off to work in the big city, Richmond. Where nothing much was happening.

Nothing much, except a chance? meeting of two strangers. Two men, one black, one white, one gay (not me!), both recovering alcoholics--instant brotherhood... He was sober just over two years.

Imagine my thoughts during the next 80 miles! A thousand miles from home, an inopportune phone call, unplanned rest-stop, a random mini AA meeting. As for me...

I had come from (years earlier) THIS: “...we knew loneliness such as few do..” to THIS: ”We will see where our experience can help others.”

(Both quotes from the book Alcoholics Anonymous “Big Book”)

This bit of a trivial moment in my 17-day bike trip is one of at least a hundred (really more!) similar stories which meant—and still mean—so much to me. Each day I expected some nice things to happen, and they did! Each day I asked God (while riding!) to just let me be opened to His will, and He did! And I did!

Peeps, what a wonderful life awaits us, if we just “Let Go and Let God”! Easy does it--but do it. Live, Let Live, and Forgive...

Love and PEACE!

Steve E

WANDERLUST

This is posted also in DversePoetsPub

Meeting Peeps, strangers, has become a life-love for me. Whether biker-Peeps gathered in that safe-and-dry space provided by an overpass, or in an AA 'speaker' meeting somewhere along a Blue Highway, I feel--I AM--home. Peeps, I am ready for another bike ride, but maybe it will have to be in 2012.

MY WANDERLUST

 Early-morning sun 

gentle yet powerful

warmth, daily

in friendly fight

with retreating night

say I: “why?”

the other half

to make bright

and I feel

cool, happy

satisfied

allied

“on the road again”

aloud I sing

i yearn to earn

the right to sight

new places, Peeps,

and to go

again be alive

hop a ramp

to I-75

beyond describe

i kneel

tell God

how i feel.

that He might grant

me one more ride--to

witness His creation

visit His peeps

bridge any chasm

with enthusiasm

once more.

may i

experience

to be free

to be me

--Steve E

Image from Deviant:

Scooter Parked_by_jk1003

ONE LITTLE PRICK

 

MOSQUITO STORY IN TWO PARTS

If you knew me personally, there would be no doubt the following is true. Beginning last Sunday, I was kept awake by a softly humming voice from a single mosquito in my bedroom. He kept whirring about in darkness until I thought he was asleep. (Actually he whirred until he thought I was asleep!)

Next came the 'ear game'. In which ear would he play that high-decibel tune now? This battle-for-bed continued for two more nights. I became all-day tired, stayed sleepy, and was definitely off my happy routines. Peeps said to me, “Where did all your enthusiasm go?”

Ah! A bright shiny-white new ceiling fan will do the trick! Trick was to install the damn thing. A bit--a lot--of plaster fell on my bed as the old (long-dead) fan fixture loosed from the ceiling/attic. Me: hoping that the whole ceiling would not cave in.

END PART I

Being the clean-sort of guy, I gathered all those plaster pieces and whatever else, ensconced a couple shovels-full into a nearly-filled plastic trash bag, and dragged the bag all through the house. Then it was I discovered it had several slight holes. You guess! Fine, sandy plaster stuff left a trail all through the house.

Being the clean-and-dumb sort of guy, I swept all those particles again, dumped them (again) into a plastic bag already filled with trash. You guess (again)! Yesss (again) right into the same bag, with the same leakage, with the same result.

I can say with memory intact, one of the first sayings I heard in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings was, “If ya keep doing the same things, you will probably achieve the same results.” And I remembered thinking, now just how stupid a remark is that? (Stupid is as stupid does.)

END PART II

Lagniappe:

The mosquito? He is in heavenly happiness on earth, swirling around in his private wind-tunnel. The male pronoun I have used because I was not bitten by 'him'. Male mosquito does not bite humans (I call him "no-prick"!)...only females need animal blood. (Bet that someone who is reading this did not know that?)

The fan works perfectly, I keep it on 'low' because all the old western-and-Mexican movie-drinking holes had a couple ceiling fans twirling ever so slowly. I found that is more cool a setting than 'high'.

All this began with a single mosqui...mos...ZZZZZzzzzzzzz!

--steveroni

 Images from DEVIANT:

Mosquito_at_dusk_by_hofhauser

Mosquito_by_EvilJT

A TUESDAY CONVERSATION

This poem written for dverse POETRY PUB'S 

"Open Link Night" (opens every Tuesday at 3 PM EDT)

 A CONVERSATION

Dear one,

you are so loved

do you not comprehend?

there is nothing

which I do not

understand

you. one

honored, revered.

listen, hear

heart on fire

listening, hearing

deepest desire

burning, searing

no sense how

when or whence

but now...

I love you

no drama, no pride,

reason, nor fear.

explain neither, never,

from depth of your soul...

my very way of life

a devotional to

loving your loveable self,

not unemotional. but through

pain, struggle, belief--

achieving the unachievable.

Unbelievable!

Unbelievable!

a closeness exists

not understood.

(I perceive when your hand

on my cheek, on my body...

it is my own hand)

in our Universe

we are two-as-one

loving from star-to-star

between moon and sun

yet on earth and wherever

space may be found,

we inhabit, breathlessly

breathing as one...

with or without air

no longer is there I

no more is there you

this

our closeness,

did you know

when I fall asleep at night

it is your eyes that close?

yes

--steveroni

Inspired by Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII

A SATURDAY REVERIE

"Fill your heart with art" is her mantra. She paints in all media, but prefers acrylics to oil. because she cannot stand to wait the drying time of oil. Her name is MANON DOYLE, and she is a favorite of mine. Almost all her pieces bear the signature heart. If the soul were visible, Manon would be painting it. (Actually she paints with soul in each of her works!). Be kind to yourself and visit Manon

ONE WEEKEND

we pray
for now is

happy saturday

LIVE!

yet may say
our time
not far away

LIFE!

in dread we said

goodbye again...and yet again.

one will leave, where other led

this time no mother

holding to her breast

only you and I, so blessed!

is it ever now
or never yet
time to rhyme
expressions of

that moment
first we met?

first loved...

dancing blankets of stars
bright-light night—ours.

We love on and on

thine eyes, a reflection
of mine own. soon
rising, traveling tall,

mirrored golden image

glorious moon; all

heaven now watching

we live on

as the firmament

showers upon our

place, joy and radiant

wetness-in-motion.

as we bathe naked

in life's ocean.

and live on and on...

fortunate we, who found

elusive life-meaning

centered around

one word, only one..

(before this briefness I sigh!)

dear friends it is called “love”

you've known it, and so have I!

Love. Peace. Life.

--steveroni

SINGIN' THE BLUES

My computer stopped "Peeping" as I was installing the monthly M$ updates. I am using  another's computer, but it is inconvenient--or is that word 'unconvenient'--grin!

Until this situation is resolved, I am 'off-the-blog'! Maybe that is a good thing...for me and for you. Hopefully in a couple days, I'll be Bach...many thanks to all the Peeps who read and have commented on my blog. I'll try to read some on my DROID.

LOVE.  PEACE. JOY.
Steve E (steveroni)

WAR GAMES--A POEM

During WWII, I would lie in the grass far back on the farm 

and watch the hundreds of B-17s practice their 

take-offs and landings from the nearby Air Force Base

They waved at me from the sky, and made me feel

important!

SEVENTY YEARS AGO

Breaking into day's placidness

ghost riders, thundering herds

overhead huge birds

bright sun suddenly less

in dark is world thrust

ten, twenty, thirty, must

be hundreds, even more

from mountain to shore

in formation flight.

above, the light

none below

prep for fight

quickly my son

grab stick

press button

learn how it's done

who is that little brat

lying in the field

almost concealed

pretending in combat?

“tomorrow we be back

tomorrow we attack...”

oh! happy and sad

fantasies, this lad

lying in field green

thinking so unseen...

pilots, gunners, waving at me

tomorrow shall cross the sea

some will live, some die

some burn, some return.

in grass, 
watching all, 
am i

--steveroni

MY RECOVERY PART IV (Final!)

IS THIS QUIRKY?

This morning I received this message—a new twist?

“Dear Sir and/or Madam

You are the only one I am writing...” etc.

Of course, I replied with my banking and Sociable Security numbers, neither of which will help them—because both are nearly depleted. But...well, charity begins in a London Barrister's office, right?

Seriously, I am such a gullible (I had written a more apt 'gulloible', rhymes with 'foible'--grin!) person. Why...I even believed, at age six, in God-with-a-beard, angels, Adam, Eve, and with no skepticism, a talking snake named Satan.

The serpent 'spoke' about an 'apple', a 'tree', 'knowledge', damnation, heaven, hell, and other things which I understood--NOT! All I really knew was that if I masturbated, I might as well stop living, because hell was my destiny, and it was warm there, even hot, very hot.

My teachers and 'God' were obviously unaware that I preferred hot, to cold, anytime...all the time! As blowing snow entered my bedroom (onto floor and bed) through rotting window sills, and drifted, I pondered these wild stories, and dreamed of hell...trying to 'feel' warm.

It was then when I began thinking that maybe all adults were not infallible—in matters of anything. Thus began a lifetime rebellion.

Later in life I realized that my many serious problems (issues—UGH!) were mine, not yours. What I did not know was that my only real problem was...WTF! ME! My Self-centeredness stood between me and everyone, everything else.

How about that—I had been a slave to myself! Sheeesh!

I turned my will and my life over to this Higher Power—God. Then, and many times since, because I am human, I've slipped into my old familiar insanity. In each instance He has pulled me kicking-and-denying, to safety.

In order to climb out of, away from this abyss, there were three requirements, told me by Peeps who I had asked for help:

1. Trust God

2. Clean House

3. Help Others

Almost too simple? Well, of course, for this formula to be effective, I had to stay sober—grin! (It became a habit!)

 

Gratefully yours!

Live and Love well...

Be joyful!

Steve E

  Adam__Eve_by_quartertofour
in Deviant Art

GETTING SPIRITUAL WITH SPIRITS

posted for dverse 8/3/2011

SITTING WITH SPIRITS

 Hopefully it is untrue what 'they' say:

“if ya hang out in a barber shop

you're going to get your hair cut”.

(a spiritual axiom?)

because my favorite place

to plunk my butt in a space

and ponder everything

from near to yonder

is a graveyard

spirits all about

a cemetery where I'm

surrounded by weathered stones

markers of lives well lived--

and some not. not so hot.

(or maybe very very hot?)

spirits hovering gravely 

watching

i'll not judge another,

rather follow god's plan,

that is—each be umpire

of their life. take law books

from shelves, and burn, burn,

as are no longer useful.

angels now in charge

in life after this

no soul will point

nor any hiss

and say, “he. that's him

who lived a life of sin”

my spirit forgiven

in the other world

language universal

mentally achieved

no more rehearsal

it is finished

sins forgotten

loving the peaceful

feel of this place

my favorite space

to ponder yonder:

angels multitudinous

universe was, is all

since before the fall

one is all there is

all is no more

all is now but one

total spirit

total love

--steveroni 

a cemetery, adjacent to my Friday morning AA meeting is where I spend a half hour in meditation.  It is a high point in my week.

THROUGH A LACE CURTAIN

REVERIES

These days I am up early (and late to bed!). I love 'first-light'. In a pre-coffee instant this morning, my eye focused on a favorite back-yard tree, my Wild Tamarind, a four-foot high bush seven years ago—now a 50-foot tree!

A pattern of lace formed itself against the morning sky, and during that momentary 'second light from the east' (like the second click of a three-way bulb), I saw vision-like images dancing there. These composed the background for my reveries. I share with you those thoughts:

First thought:

...was of a beautiful, wonderful moment last Thursday night when I got to present a happy Prayer Girl (Anna, my wife) with her 26^th sober Anniversary chip, in front of 160 AA Peeps.

Second thought:

How blessed we all are here in AA, to share with our friends the ups and downs of life to receive--and give--spiritual and other support with people who truly love us, some unconditionally.

Third thought:

Many are not aware that wherever I go, whatever city, whatever country in the whole wide world, there is an AA meeting near enough. Even if in a foreign language they are speaking, I can understand—because in recovery, in a real sense there is but one language. And that is Love.

Fourth thought:

Definition of spirituality: helping others with no ulterior motive...whatsoever! Remember that prayer?

And “the power to carry that out!”

Fifth thought:

Woman at AA meeting this morning tearfully told our group of about 80 Peeps that her husband Tom died a week ago at age 61. (Lung cancer discovered June 24, died July 26.) He was a friend of mine, rode the same kind of scooter as me (big one!), and both she and Tom are recovering alcoholics (he is 'recovered'). Where did she go, to be consoled? Her 7 AM meeting of alcoholics. Impressive.

Sixth thought:

Topic at that same meeting: Honesty! Imagine, 80 Peeps who had developed to a high degree the fine arts of lying, cheating, stealing, adulteries, abusing, hiding, fighting and other psychoses...discussing honesty at 7 AM!!!

Seventh thought:

Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book has a printed list of wonderful personal gifts, 'promises' for those who work the Steps. One promise is missing. To me, most important, for it is the ONLY real and true guarantee which is offered without reservation: “IF I DON'T DRINK...I WON'T GET DRUNK”.

The End

--steveroni

3.18.74