MEMORY--OH! WHERE YOU GO?

DREAMS

Dreams borrowed from god of night,

next day trying in vain to recall

so to excite with my pondered write

Straining to replace what's melted away:

Inspiration

perspiration

Respiration

might they together "save the day"

OR....

Wheels of my mind...HALT!

STOP! in your suddenly meshing grind

In frozen moment, press Shift, Control, Alt...

realize what was lost was not mine.

Allowing thoughts of serene peace and love

to silently meet with me at the first of light.

--Smiles

--steveroni

07/15/2014

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MAG #227 The LATE PRIEST

From Magpie Tales

THE PRIEST WHO CAME LATE TO MASS

In old church I prayed, sitting solemn on my ass

Young man came in...reflected in the glass

Walking--in a hurry

Holding something furry

Said, "Please take this kitty, while I offer mass..."

--Steve E

Posted for Magpie Tales

Please say, "HE LED A COLORFUL LIFE"...

IMAGE: Photographer Marcy Purdy

The Fiddler 

Hans Christian Andersen

In the little town there is much festivity:
they are holding a wedding there with dance and play.
To the happy man, the wine sparkles so red;
but the bride looks like whitewashed death.

Yes, dead she is to him whom she cannot forget;
he is at the feast but not as the bridegroom.
He stands among the guests at the inn,
stroking his fiddle cheerily enough.

He strokes his fiddle, his hair turning grey.
The strings resound: shrill and loud;
he presses it to his heart, paying no heed
whether it breaks into a thousand pieces.

It is quite hideous when one dies this way,
his heart young and still striving for joy.
I cannot and will not watch any longer!
It will make my head spin.

Who are you, with your fingers pointing at me?
O God - graciously protect us
from the madness that may overwhelm us.
For I am myself a poor musician.

--HCA