DAY ONE 2014: RESOLUTION and LOVE POEM

ON THIS DAY

yes, i know of 
"skin-on-skin",

your own and mine.

touch of another is

plan of divine

one other thing
which i miss--

that lovely kiss

which gives ring

its meaning.

yearning your hug,

body to cover me

as warm fine rug.

such dream can be

but fantasy

allure...

i conjure

your scent, your smile,

your laughing eyes

your counsel wise.

things you do
(and also me)

when away from...
yet once together

freely be we.

i've been won.

it is done

these are part of why

there's this love--you and i

through, with, and into

eternity sublime.

unmeasured.

untimed.

belief, even more,

keep me alive.

on these i thrive

Steve E

1/1/2014

THE INTERVIEW

A HAPPY LIFE...THEIRS AND MINE

Several years I taxied people to their work at a hotel laundry five days each week--and picked them up after their job. The four of them were "mentally challenged", in slang words, "retarded". The trip each way lasted nearly an hour. Coaches and counselors worked with these people regularly, but on these long rides, I could not help myself from an attempt at entertaining them--helping them to be happy, rather than bored or despondent.

A small pocket-sized tape recorder did the trick. Me, the driver, became Steve, the radio interview guy. Interviewing each in turn, I asked questions about their lives, work, parents, home, goals. After each taped interview, I'd play it back so all five had opportunity to hear each other's "life story". This went on for a number of months, before we all tired of it, ran out of questions as well as responses.

Typical interview began simply:

Q. Hello what is YOUR name?
A. Da-Low-Russ!
Q. And Delores, what do you do?
A. Work!

And progressed in a week, to somewhat more revealing details:

Q. Dolly, (we had changed her name from Da-Low-russ...) what do like to do at home?
A. Help my sister clean house and do dishes. I like doing that. She wants me DON'T BREAK ANYTHING! I love my sister.

Q. John, what do you do in your spare time?
A. Well (ahem!) Steve...(pause, clearing throat)

I-I-I  d-do a little bit of this,

a little bit of that,

and little bit of everything else!

NOTE:
After many days, our interviews got so complicated, that I'd write out questions for them at night at home...to keep the connection--and the fun--going.

These four (I remember their names even now, after 20 years!) changed over the course of time...and so did I.  We became a closely knitted group, we prayed, talked, joked, and laughed together...a LOT!

I grew to love my "crew". One, a tiny, old black guy, was a deaf-mute...never looked up, never smiled, or joined in. I discovered that he might hear some things, because sometimes--in my rear-vision mirror--I caught him smiling at something which was repeated on tape. But he never spoke, although I had a feeling he could. There had probably been some trauma in his life. 

To this day, when someone asks me what I did for my life's work, I answer, 

"Oh...a little bit of this, 

a little bit of that, 

and little bit of everything else!"

Steve E
Sunday December 22, 2013

MERRY CHRISTMAS

A CHRISTMAS STORY

Little ones--picture this sight:
Bethlehem shook, shivered
as Child born that night

Inside  stable--the real Body and Blood,
inside His little chest, enough warm love  
to make water out of snow,
to engulf whole world, wholly blest
with gifts--eternal Heart-flow 

Roused from unblanketed sleep
by angelic music of highest fidelity,
groupings of old shepherds and sheep
found their way to barn, breathlessly. 

And warmly and warm,
seated on frosted grass
they attended
first midnight mass

animals knowingly bent
their knees to witness
most spectacular event:
birth of the One
Who am, which God had sent.

Watch what happened next!
They rode in with the wind--no
scooters, but on camels--sat

three smartest guys
one totally black,
one with squinty-eyes...
gifts in their sack.

Many weeks, many miles
they had day and night
 followed slow-moving 
sky light 

and now gazed,
amazed--
at Most Bright...

Lamb of God met
face-to-face with 
 blind mankind. 

Sun rises
sun sets.
But this Son
would shine forever.

During brief span of time,
barely third of a century
he spent humbly sublime.

He found donkey and mounted.
Rode through crowded street.
"Hail, King" they shouted.
Thousands people did greet
along the way--as by now

that little babe, 
child of wonder
had become a man.

Only a few days later body broken asunder
he died to loud sounds--
tympanic thunder.

Curtain ripped and
dropped. Earth moved.
Darkness descended.

a life
suddenly thwarted 
in a single moment 
stopped

--and started


--by Steve E
edited and reposted from december 2012

HITCH YOUR WAGON TO A STAR

Scene near Pakistan farm

after traveling couple thousand miles 

i am tired. besides that, 

i have sand in my eye.

my feet are hurting, i

just wanna lay down and die.

we could not find our way

through the storms.

i heard some say

we'd got lost

one of the leaders

witnessed strange bright

at night, continuing

through next day.

in order to follow the light

our whole armada changed course.

it just seemed serene,

to be guided by Something

after one year, star

ceased movement

that day the world stopped

and fear overtook us

humps (we called ourselves "humps"!)

men began to run, we camels 

right behind...as if chasing. 

and all hearts beat

in rhythm with feet.

ending near a barn, late,

we'd missed act one, fate?

my masters got to meet with 

some Baby King--in secret. 

somehow tiredness disappeared,

sand blew out from my eye

people all said such nice things, 

finally--finally said good-bye.

i drank 50 gallon of water, (in 3 minutes!) 

became ready for a journey. 

prior heavy burden miraculously 

transformed to lighter load.

this time, no star--

i knew the road.

how honored, we--to have been

chosen actors in an ageless story!

me, i'm an old hump, almost 50...

but looking back at everything,

my whole life through--

deep down I knew

that i'd been given 

an opportunity to serve

my--and your--heavenly king.

--STEVE E

ONE in FIFTY-FIVE

--Drawing/Painting by one FAVORITE blogger--Claudia

"From my sketchbook/two women at the neighbor table"

When chest feels empty

due to hurting heart,

public library becomes solace…

turning to prayer

holding book to me tightly,

turn page and read:

Amazing! that E V E R Y T H I N G

affects everything else,

is dependent or depends on...

and I alone–as hermit,

missed the whole meaning of

Ocean Universe

in which all things are….

One         

--by steveroni 

(inspired by Claudia!)

55 words exactly--that what we doing at dVerse today...Join us?

PASSING THIS WAY AND THAT

POEM


at age six 
I ran away from home.
it's hard to run away
when not even allowed 
to cross the friggin' street,
for to meet 
patient destiny

life's ageless span
daily became same:
flurried blurs,
factasy avowed
to who--and you,
while crossing
our own avenue

brief--duration of life
yet painfuly slow,
filled with strife
when time to go.
ought I...cross this path?
thought I, "no"...hmmm!

"I no longer love her
that's certain...
but maybe I do love her?
--love is so short
forgetting is so long *"
*Pablo Neruda, 1904-1973

near age something-nine
oh yes! I felt fine.
in unison voices...loud!
hear them! “run, run, feet.
but don't cross that street!”

sweetest bird-sounds,
violin among tall trees
ashes and butterflies
together flew by--
a brother deceased,
un-wombed...
spread by breeze,
entombed
in the universe

whispered to me
in foreign code,
“...do not cross that road!”

steve e
as edited from one april 2012 posting


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub
OpenLinkNight -week #125
every Tuesday,
starting at 3 pm EST.

HEADLINES

THE WEAKLY[sic] NEWS
HEADLINES

monday the first:

beneath shoulder blades

two knives sheaved...

as life faded

body fell...heaved

monday the eighth:

WHO stole body

perfumed...

the same recently

exhumed?

monday the fifteenth:

WHO set in small boat

and left adrift

'neath blanket and coat

dear widow swift?

monday the twenty-second:

story of biblical moses

is what here exposes

"swift" killer:  a community pillar,

none other than rev'rend miller

--steveroni

_______________________________

Posted for magpie tales 

please click HERE for 

image information, and

leave your own 

imagination in words, 

poetic or not

THE WINDING ROAD

"And I wanna be in this moment

No one can take it from me

And I wanna stay in this moment

No one can take it away from me."

--IN THIS MOMENT*

LIFE: TWISTS AND TURNS

(ode to a moment)

ah, peace, 
play simply, 
enough...
for each moment 
wherein i spend 
my life.

this instant,
lived in grateful
attitude, love, 
extends itself to 
countless moments;

moments 
of less stuff
--but enough.


as if each "now"
is one of 
happiness.

it can be, yes?
most of mine are!
are yours?
NMW?  
(No Matter What?)

every single 
instant.

happy news 
about a friend 
came my way.

happily rested
in God's arms
i feel in
all moments 
of yesterday 
...and today

--steveroni

Over @ dVerse, Tony has us writing odes, in the shadow for Neruda---speak your mind, use your 2 cents, while you got it---doors open @ 3 pm EST. 

* IN THIS MOMENT - 

From the new record 'Blood', 

Century Media 2012

UNDER THE OVERPASS

Posted on Open Link Night 

at the PUB on Tuesday at 3 PM.

Join us please, for week #123

This is NOT the EYE OF A FLY

(It is left head lamp of my bike)  

BIKER TRIP-TIP

awareness is the key

to remain alive

on US ninety-five.

life depends totally

on what I blindly see

(is that rig only one...or three?)

on super-drive ninety-five

riding north, who knows to where

or for that matter--even care?

horizon ahead dark...darkened sky,

storm a'coming on twin-ribbed 95

favorite overpass remembered, where

bike and I had in another year

been sheltered--in five more miles

and there alone, happy, dry...sit I

on route 95

 as bridge-shaking violent deluge

breaks loose (and long before it subsides) 

bikers arrive, strangers, now friends--

all generous with stories of their rides,

also freely giving of themselves--(grin!)

passing around bottles and tokes

like santa's little red-uniformed elves.

party time! well, me sober, and

still-hot Starbuck in hand,

I drink it black from vacuum--

it's all I ask, these moments of peace,

knowing all is well in biker land.

while storm ends amid happy cheers,

listen! on high bridge overhead

hundreds trucks squishing gears

rubber on wet pave, speed-ing

thunder no more

under cloudless sky

on U.S. ninety-five

as eighteen-wheelers 

roar and roll on by

biker be'ware, 

or be not alive.

safely drive 

 Interstate-95

--steveroni

AWARE and BEWARE

how similar, meanings

SEVENTEEN SYLLABLES

17 syllables

more fun to catch raindrops and snowflakes on tongue,

than to catch a football.

pretty singing--she in shower--

on radio, Tristan Und Isolde

whirring is lawn mower motor--

as low overhead, jet engines screaming

fingers peck keyed letters,

cause computer to crunch many million codes

drinking all night put truth out of sight

till dawn brought me... reality

--steveroni

gay has us write american sentences  today…

 17 syllables… capture a scene… 

see you at 3pm EST when the doors open in Poets Pub "FormForAll"
THIS IS PLAIN F U N !!!

TYPHOON!

IN U.S. WE REMEMBER OUR MILITARY VETERANS ON NOVEMBER 11

"To care for him who shall have born the battle,

and for his widow and his orphan..."

--Abraham Lincoln

TYPHOON

this week, I share pride for U.S. military

--past and present--

with deep sadness for the dead, living,

wounded of the Philippines.  

i pray for those who bravely continue 

searching for and retrieving bodies, 

dead and alive. 

also I'm grateful for nations which 

unselfishly give their resources 

to help temporary limping impoverishment 

of southern Philippine Islands

whether ten, or ten thousand 

listed dead, injured, missing--

a weary heart, same sadness

God understands that looting and badness

come not from greed

but human need.

heaven's gate, bustling activity

souls arriving--proclivity

having been long ago

inspired, implanted 

by God Himself.

in the end, 

everything will be OK.
since OK it is not

also not yet the end!

--steveroni

PEEK-A-BOO...I SEE YOU

to cherish forever

we realized

our desire, need, 

for closeness,

attachment,

was because 

we might otherwise

been unable to save

the memory of

our love

this...ahhh

appetence,

longing of

being together

was forbidden

not forsaken.

forgotten? never

nor renounced.

lovers were we of 

impossibility.

paradise here 

and there

predictable, 

inevitable--

neither desisted 

nor ceased

because.... 

could not release

--by a past blogger-friend 

carlo benevento

PLANT A TREE?-- A POEM

California Redwoods

PLANT SEED AND JUMP BACK

find spot on earth

which has no trees

sprinkle flakes of love

plant sprouts or seeds 
(sprouts are simpler)

one-and-half-century will

grow really nice Redwood 

then sit, relax, and 

wait few thousand years 
(heheheh!)

oh! set your chair far back until

in good time, diameter of tree will

build out twenty-three feet or more...

carefully plant yourself....
so butt won't get sore

take a long nap
awaken to new world
where trees create sap
from below and above
when all universe is
sprinkling flakes of love

--steveroni

THIS IS WHERE I PLAY VIOLIN

Posted on Open Link Night 

at the PUB on Tuesday at 3 PM.

Join us please, for week #121

St Elizabeth Seton Catholic Church

Naples Florida USA

STEVE'S MUSIC "JOB"

In order to show my blogging friends one of my weekend activities, I wrote this--funny, at 2 AM it sounded pretty good. NOW I doubt, so it's time to PUBLISH!

Nearly every Saturday or Sunday, in front of that first tall window to right of the altar canopy, stands a man playing a violin--me.
In front of 1,000 seats, some with people--grin!

Eileen, a pianist/organist/choir director and a good musician besides, accompanies me. Four years we've worked together and so we pretty well click musically.

Example of what we will play this week:
the second and third movements of Vivaldi Violin Concerto (a minor).  Other composer favorites of ours (mine--grin!) are Bach, Mozart, Mendelssohn (Songs Without Words), Schubert, Beethoven (from Moonlight Sonata--it is bee-you-tee-full!)...and more. Always more!

Virtual Sheet Music allows me--for a few bucks annually--to download and print literally thousands of all catagories of music. We have a steady stream of different stuff to perform, not all of it "easy".  This keeps me practicing. 

I've been playing violin seventy-four years (started at ahe 5 or 6), and so one might rightly say, "Isn't it about time to quit?"  Sherlock Holmes and Albert Einstein played violin (not duets--grin!) and functioned well until they died--did Sherlock EVER die?

Whatever.  It is fun and rewarding and actually helps some people to pray and meditate (again...me?) before mass begins.  Also I play for weddings and funerals--for the record. HA!

In a former life--grin! I worked as a violinist in Music Hall as a member of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra:

While sitting here wondering what work other bloggers do--everyone simply cannot become wealthy writing poetry!--I blogged my thoughts tonight.  Besides, the poetry muses amused themselves and bemused me until I said "HEY...STOP!"  ...great segue to
ending this post!

PEACE, LIGHT and LOVE, everyone!

--steveroni

REPAIRING CREATION

Posted on dVerse Poets Pub

Open Link Night--WEEK #120

REPAIRING CREATION

finish the job, pick up your toys

gonna be a wet afternoon

let's beat that rain, angel boys

she's comin' mighty soon

(always fixin' things

forever repairing, 

replacing pieces, 

fitting, placing, faring;

wish supper bell 'ud ring)

we're gonna get wet, boys

ya got about a minute...

c'n feel the drops now

damn! we're already in it

(puzzle scene incomplete, 

took too long to find that last piece.

funny--how small missing part,

one slight blemish will thwart

perfection of all universe)

rainin' good and hard now

don't fly away and leave me.

(I), archangel tells you angels

what to do--when--and how

so that's the way it'll be...see?

God sent us on a mission, so

by God, we execute, wet or not.

Slip that piece-puzzle into place

let's go now, back into space.

(frustrated!

job's done, heaven's waitin'.

rather than common angels

i'd sooner be boss of satan

...oh well, wonder what's 

next to fix? 

good lord'll have us

layin' bricks

on mars,

repairin' lights

on stars.)

bye, earth.  we'll be back some day

us angels just cannot stay away

--steveroni

GUIDING LIGHT

Andaman-Nicobar Islands

GUIDING LIGHT

to wring truth

from anything

be ruthless

when weeding

on the way 

yes, i prayed

asked that You

my God be there

trusting, with faith, 

(i rode without fear)

that those nicest two

also listen, also hear

and they did.

so now can believe 
what said here is true!

witnessed a miracle!

love, powerful--

melting iceberg,

my spectacle

time will take time

you'll not be alone

the guiding light 

will see you home

--steveroni

PHEROMONES

DEVIANT ART

PHEROMONES

I yearn.

I return.

Discern

burning

heart-flame.

what is,

which fills this space

where I work and play

all--and each--day?

exhale

expel             

can feel it,

            and smell

pheromonally-enhanced

nitrogen, oxygen.

Breathe, steve,

entranced!

Inhaling

secreted

attractant--

heaven-scent, (sigh)

overwhelms.

finally have

wholly lived

wholly loved

good-bye!

now die?

--steveroni

Since childhood, scents have been my intriguer--love country odors; skunk, wild onions, chocolate milk, sour cream, musk, a city in early morning, sweat, perfumes. On an elevator I sometimes entertain strangers by naming their perfume.  Hence, when I discovered a blog post titled Pheromones, a short poem began to form.