AN ORDINARY TUESDAY..

A DAY IN THE LIFE/DEATH OF....

Aurora sees our Sea of Grass happily swaying.
For winter in SW Florida we have a saying:
"Ho-Hummm!"
Season has little affect on life's daily mundane:

what, who and whether--decisions made:
light blue jackets, green shoes, feathered hats?
In balmy south florida even little black gnats
continue staging nightly crusades.

On this day...

St Ann school yard: properly-uniformEd girls,
knee-length skirts, white blouses 'neath curls, 
tiny brown shoes running in small world, a'skelter. 
All making wonderful noise.
Attempting same time perfect poise! HA! 
No need today for indoor shelter.
Boys over there, giving not a whit...
playing baseball, yelling "Foul!"
"NO! (dammmit!) It's a hit!" 

An ordinary day? Yes!

A hundred people walk reverently past this scene
ostensibly unseen, to gather, remember and adore 
in chapel, seating 50 souls, standing 50 more.

(They never realize)
when one of us has died
we each die a little inside.
and early we all rise 
to show up
to own up
as what each agree,
"next one could be me."
--steveroni

"He taught us little; but our soul
Had felt him like the thunder's roll."
--Matthew Arnold

Written on occasion of a memorial mass for a friend--sober 31 years--who drifted away, and isolated from his program. and could not deal with life on life's terms. 
He blew his head off a week ago.

"Remember we deal with alcohol: Cunning, Baffling, Powerful. Without help it is too much for us..."
--Alcoholics Anonymous pp 58-59 (italics mine)

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.

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

A LOVE-LIFE in dVerse Pub

Every Tuesday is Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub

TUESDAY @ 3 PM Eastern doors open for OLN week #115

A LOVE-LIFE

before, during, after fame

does not love-its flame

continue the burning

 never adjourning?
  

once

loved by an artist who

travels every place

the world over,

dancing on her toe

now

oh! I miss her face

God, I miss her so...

not secret our love,

neither was for show

remember

two beautiful trees

grew side-by-side

roots entangled

but never tied

and so

we met--before fame.

even during, next,

shall not the flame

continue its burn?

truest of loves

have no adjourn...

now this

we shall meet, and greet

on street or shore...
"Merely this, and
nothing more." ♥

--steveroni

(Sep 2013)

NOT IN VAIN

                        

It has not been in vain,

this training and teaching time...

time of suppression, repression, depression

is changed now into a time

of glorious expression.

--God Calling

(June 28, 2012)

YOSEMITE...AND THE WATER FLOW

LIKE OUR FLOWING LOVE--

NEVER REALLY CEASING

Above the photo, today's reading/meditation hit me right across the head. So often I feel guilt--no!--shame because of my own happiness. It's like, am I the only one who isn't full of negativity? (My perception tells me this.)

Even though I have obligations, they are MY responsibilities, my choices. I have the freedom to change them, to do or not.

Being bound to my own options in this life is just not the same as spending 40 or more hours each week at the behest of others. My work life began before age 10 on the farm, and lasted for 55 years. (Not all of them on the farm--grin!) Now I perform activities that--if they'd been 'requested' by authority--would have turned me quite far from enjoyment of life.

First, I am alcoholic. Second, I do not drink--for more than 38 years! You probably do NOT care for knowing how one IS an alcoholic, even after staying sober...so I won't expound on that now! Today, I practice 'being satisfied'. That helps me--to have no expectations of others (a few minutes of that is possible, now and then--grin!)

Doctor visit this morning ended my need for continuing liquid chemo on my face--I'm finally burnt to a crisp, took a 'before' photo moments ago. After 10+/- days of a special creme I will shoot another photo--'after'..and blog them. It may help someone to take more care of their skin when spending years in the sunshine--yeah...right!

--In a different 'vain', I said to doctor if she got rid of the ugliness, and kept the color, I'd be grateful.

Everyone I met this morning returned my Alien-like smiles, my face one big, bleeding bag of sores. And Peeps are just SO nice everywhere.

"God Calling" quote at top of post is my raison d'etre during this segment of my life. My training, learning how to live, is from a teacher named Alcoholics Anonymous. If I had not been a hopeless, helpless drunk, I'd never have allowed a Higher Power (God!) to lead me to AA. Does that connect with you? That I am forever grateful to God and AA? I was allowed to hit the bottom, the dregs of living. I'm truy grateful to BE a recovering Alcoholic!

I read, see, and trust many fellow Peeps in these blogs, and their words nurture me. I give support as well as receive it, through poetry, other writings, pictures, and "glorious expression". We share our experiences, strengths, and hopes here with any who would 'hear' or read.

Grace from God is continuing, never stopping. It just like "Where is all that water coming from?

My prayer is that all of us be allowed to continue these practices until God says, "YOU!  It's time now. C'mon along!"

PEACE, LOVE, and PRAISE!

--steveroni

LIFE

NOTE: Yesterday (Wednesday) morning we met blogger Patti and her husband Bill. They live in Massachusetts. Most enjoyable 2-hour breakfast ever—maybe my first—grin! Again I must write that meeting a Peep--who I only knew through the blogs—is just like meeting a friend...we already know one another. It is always like that! Thank you, God!

LIFE AFTER DEATH? OR BEFORE?

"Some people say there is no life after death,” said a disciple.

"Do they?” said the Master, noncommittally.

"Wouldn't it be awful to die and never again see nor hear nor love nor move?”

"You find that awful?” said the Master. “But that's how most people are even before they die.”

“Awakening”, #219 by De Mello

LISTEN TO THE SILENCE

Peeps, I'll try to be honest here. My life was never boring. I shoveled cow manure, and at age 12-13, raised a steer from calf-to-auction grade at the County Fair. I sat for years on a stage in tie-and-tails, playing violin in a major symphony orchestra.

I was a barman, bus driver, Ritz Carlton entertainer, sidewalk strolling musician. From a 25-year career of alcoholic drinking and behavior, I've become a long-time sober Peep.Ya know how I did that?  

Just didn't drink—and didn't die!

But I never really lived! Whatever I did was to please someone else—or so it seemed to me. Not that I was forced—just that I wanted everyone to like (love) me, so I became a certified people-pleaser—I THOUGHT......(How could I please another—others—when, in drunken stupor I was walking all over their lives, hopes, dreams?)

Finally,now, "I know a new freedom, a new happiness. I will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. I comprehend the word 'serenity'--and know peace. No matter how far down the scale I've gone, I see how my experiences of the past can benefit others." *

Sure, all this sounds so goody-goody. Well, it is nowhere near perfect...but SO much better, I do not worry about 'perfect'--not any more!

This is certain: I shall not die “having never seen, nor heard, nor loved, nor moved!”

PEACE ALWAYS!


*Book "Alcoholics Anonymous" pp. 83-84 (slightly Edited)

OL' MAN RIVER

 

 “Oh, I was born to wander

I was born to roam

And Mister and Mississippi

made me feel at home”

-- IRVING GORDON

Life during my drinking career (who but an alcoholic refers to drinking as a “career”--grin!) was spent partly on my own houseboat, named Thor. Three years I lived here, became a river rat (Ohio river at Cincinnati). These were some of the happiest (read: carefree!) years of my life.

I had annually to pull the 32-foot, 12-ton boat out of the river, and up a 500-foot ramp for winter--Nov, Dec, Jan, and Feb. Thor sat high on steel drums and I--high on other 'stuff'--spent many a cold night in that cabin, loving the smells, darkness, loneliness...sometimes I could hear the sounds of snow falling on piled dead leaves.

One memorable mid-summer midnight a fellow boater strung out on some hallucinatory substance was shooting his guns, threatening Peeps all over our small harbor. The shanty-boat 'community' all stayed hidden in their (five) boats. Your Peep—me--walked right out there atop all six floats and challenged this crazy man. He was firing two weapons, helter-skelter, one in each hand.

Carrying nothing to defend myself except a quart of dark rum, I walked right up to him, talked him down, took away the guns and walked back to my boat to sleep. Next morning, guess who they called the 'crazy' man? Only one guess per Peep allowed!

 THOR

Frequently, 2-3 times a week, I'd just set out on Thor chugging along in early morning fog until something on the river bank piqued my interest. Shallow draft allowed me to pull up on the sandy mud anywhere, anchor to a tree, maybe spend a couple days.

Those years I met, ate and drank with literally hundreds of Peeps—strangers, until we talked awhile. If you knew me, you'd realize I'm in my glory when doing that. Living on the river, most of these Peeps were like one big family. Each of these friendships were another story. 

Note: Our harbor—I was one-sixth owner—was named “Friendship Harbor”. It is still there, almost fifty years later. It's marked on Ohio River Charts.

The gunslinger cast off the day after his spree, and nobody saw him after that. He left behind his 40-foot float, which space we rented and split the bucks.

It was on the river I learned the fun of taking chances, how to survive, and finally how to live well, love everything, and be kind to Peeps. The code there was “Do unto others...” 

From then, my addictions began to seriously take over, run and ruin my life

Each hour of living is as a brick laid in the building of a life. And I revel yet in memories--laying those bricks. Thank you for walking with me here. PEACE!

--Steve E

A SOMEWHERE DIMENSION

JUST WHERE IS OZ?

Feet danced lightly on the

red brick road of love

to Somewhere

Over there

to a land far away

between mountain and sea

a paradise where live

the tallest trees

and honey-bees

where bluebirds sing

cow bells ring and

Peeps wish on stars.

Children glide on slides

somewhere—over there

What is that trestle-like arch

which none has seen begin

nor has yet found the end?

seeking always that pot

of red brick, or yellow gold

brightly young, or faded old

in perpetual smile

upside-down

happily frowning—you!

oh! beauteous rainbow

forever changing

exquisite colors

we were enticed here

by the red brick road

now changed to gold

will we ever or shan't we

discover elusive golden pot?

Though it seems like not

dance we must

on the gilded path

whatever its color

or course where it lead.

What we found is this:

the universe itself

teaches faith, and hope

that all which ever was

all that will ever be...

is love

no begin, no end

to rainbows of life

--steveroni

IN REAL LIFE

 

Blogger Peeps, my life is being lived in a roundabout--I keep running around and about. So this blog is my turning place, I am in the right lane. No longer will I try to fake it in the world of poetry (well, unless 'inspiration' overcometh--grin!).

Never again should I fancy being the drawing/painting artist I aspired to at age 6-16. (Must admit that this very day I was one last time eyeballing art supplies, first through a picture window, then inside store up-close-and-personal.) How do you say, "No MONEY"! --grin!

Arriving in Blogland 31 months ago, I stayed on the main roads writing about topics which I knew, Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, and my own happy-destiny walk 'to stay sober'. I do realize that posts which limn my experiences (ummmm, at least how I remember them) as a drunk and later as doing a new and sober life, might not appeal to many followers. Also I'm hoping myself to 'follow' a few of the Peeps from whom I drifted some months ago.

Simply stated, I'm moving my blog toward its initial raison d'etre, stories about life with--and without--alcohol!
At age five I decided to become an alcoholic when I grew up, NOT TRUE--grin! However, it did happen, full-blown, full-blast! Nearly 25 years of seeking oblivion, finally finding it (I think...who would know? --grin!). And from that evolution into a chaotic existence, I reached a turning point.

Because I had tracked in a log book, I know the day of my last drink. How I wish I had logged (no 'blogs' yet) that day when I first did not even think of a drink! But it happened, and a miserable excuse for a life has become, through trial, error, constant change, and a way of life in Alcoholics Anonymous...hmmm, well, ummm, the happy life of a sober, old blogger.

In my own fashion, I am considering the most 

unbelievably HUGE complete and necessary 

psychic change 

which occurs when a hopeless wet drunk 

becomes dry, clean and sober

--as a fourth dimension event. 

It comes about from a power 

certainly not unknown... 

but unseen.

This post I consider an introduction to my newest effort at being useful to myself--maybe others--in blog land. 

Next post I'll have a story for y'all. OKAY? PEACE!

Image from Deviant Art:

in 4th_dimension_by_azznagavarts