SAM I AM

DRINK OR DIE

*no hay agua
no sobrevivir
ni árbol, ni la humanidad
vivirá mucho tiempo 
trans at bottom:

a tree i am, i am.
a tree named sam

i need, i feed.
place where is water
i search for, find,
and drink.
i am tree
i am free

without water, my friends,
--i cannot survive.

sending thin veins, feelers
along;  slowly slinking roots
through mortared maze,
winding, webbing their way,
saying "me first, i thirst"
i am sam, am i....

what manner of city watchdog
would come by with a steel-
shining axe-like implement
to cause my "detriment"?

have you more right to live than me
parts of me make fire
for your warmth
i am lyre whose
owner shall charm
you with song
all along
your dreary life

thousand species use me as home
my branches can become your own
place to live--and love,
under, and/or above.

and even when you die
you'll know why.
i could be
your final earth-residence
where i last remind you
that only god (and Ces!)
can make a tree
---and he made me!

-steveroni

translation:

*no water
not survive
no tree, no human
live long

AWARENESS

For a poet smorgasbord

click right here. for week #93→
Open Link Night OLN 

LIVE FREELY! JOYFULLY!

....WITH AWARENESS....

the man in front of me,

fragrant as well-worn shoe;

dressed(?) like long-term

front line soldier (he was!)

--he was used to it

unfamiliar to water and soap.

many years on the bowery

he lived to cope.

--he was accustomed to it

eyes unseeing at birth

closed tightly as sealed tomb,

hidden and hiding from
a world of beauty

--out of sight, out of mind? (NO!)

always could hear, 

but never to see--

a dearth of unknowing.

--whatcha don't know can't hurt ya.

Years later, unaware yet wary,

of ocean depth and desert dune,

hard realization set in--I also 

had not known what was

happening in my world

--man unknowing

before...now, and possibly

ever and ever--never.

--never say never, ever!

depression, long lurking 

has been set

and been met 

butt-head-on.

--get over it, sir

finally, nearly...then

neatly set itself in-

to my life. need ladder.
NOW! got to climb out.

--put this show on the road

will be better tomorrow.

isn't it always "better tomorrow"?

said miniature self, sitting

on hardwood, oaken shelf.

--listen to conscience...pray!

tomorrow, better, yessss!

make phone call

go to bed......ZZZzzzzzz..........

--it IS "tomorrow" (or today?) 

--all is well which ends well

Let me not think--however some are living, 

however "normal" it may seem to them, 
that they may NOT realize what 

they're missing.   I must believe that, 

with outside help--a Higher Power?

--drastic change WILL be accomplished.

Love and Peace!

--steveroni
♥

SCHOOL'S OUT...SCHOOL'S OUT

ding-dong...ding-dong...ding-dong

the first day of school

fearful, careful, we

as year one progressed

mingled less and less

until by following may

heard oldsters shout

school's out, school's out

teachers eating sauerkraut

final bell rang

we first graders,

now promoted,

in unison sang

school's out, school's out

teachers eat sauerkraut

(yuk! we said then)

me, alone as usual, 

ran fast from school 

that last spring day

on way home.  stopped 

to rest in hidden woods

at favorite gurgling brook.

mentally 'visioned there

six black-clothed nuns

in their dining cubicle,

saying a blessing prayer

enjoying vacation lunch

MENU:

....sauerkraut!

In gladness for all teachers who vacate their classrooms and move to other activities--it is a happy time, sprinkled with touch of nonchalant sadness. Enjoy your sauerkraut--with apple, sausage, onion, or.....
LOVE and PEACE

--steveroni

picture: Google Images

DINNER AND TAXI...$2

Posted for dVersePoets Pub
Open Link Night Week #102
(Starts Tuesday at 3 PM Eastern)

THE BUCK STOPS HERE (by steveroni)

REMINISCENCES

In 'days of olde',
petticoats, in fashion,
a skirt beneath the skirt.
Grandma sewed money into
hem of her underwear.

Two dollars--stitched, or not--
in year 1890 would buy dinner and a
cab ride home, tip included.

Intention was to "save" her from
an embarrassing date situation.
I "KNEW" my grandma, and would
wager everything--that she in her 18th year
might have preferred a few "dangerous" 
occasions over solo taxi trips home.

By 1960  $2  bought a bottle of
Liebfraumilch, with change left over.
I always knew (on visits to Cincinnati)
where I could find two bucks.
(Slip-sewed $2 became a lifelong habit
of Grandma's.)  If there were 2 petticoats
(slips) I bought TWO bottles.  However,
by then I was heavily involved with
muchas otras cosas...

These years since--searching for money--I've 
habitually (not obsessively!) examined female undergarments...never found a single cent.  Note...I do NOT miss the days of corsets, garter belts, stockings, and could well do without the skimpier items which--smaller than my handkerchief--are now so popular.
My one-word mantra: NAKED!

As a small child I was intrigued by women wearing corsets, garter belts, stockings, harness collars (now called "bras"!), and NO, I NEVER WORE ANY OF WOMEN'S STUFF.  OK? (Smiles!)

I DO remember having an "affinity" (love affair) once with this girl who heavily sedated herself with Coty's Emeraude perfume.  I used to douse a handkerchief with the stuff, and tuck it under my chin when playing violin in the symphony.  ("Inspiration" comes in various forms?)  A few of the musicians looked askance.  But then, as now, I did not give a Royal "F" about what people might have thought or said.

If anyone thought I was crazy (I am!), they only sat for a moment with "me" on their minds.  Because most people think--97% of the time--about THEMSELVES.  By internalizing that thought my paranoia was cured for all time.  What FREEDOM!

Think what $2 would buy today in USA? 
Maybe a 15-stick pack of Wrigley's Bubble Gum?  
I want some of that now. 
Where's Grandma when you need her?  
(Rest her blessed soul.)

Rambling, I notice, so it's time to go.  
See y'all next time.  
Love and PEACE!

--steveroni

good boy--bad boy

THE GOOD

Something Happened

"He's a good boy."  That's what people said.  I pretended to not hear them.  Did not want to be a "good boy".  The "bad boys" got the choicest girls, attracted attention of teachers, police, school principals.  They were known, recognized, even liked, praised.

Those--like me--who always said, "thank you", "please", and "excuse me" were not chastised for our behavior? Same old hated--in those words, "He's a good boy."

When alone, I would loudly say "Damn", "Fart" and "Fuck".  Then, as I turned age 10, I tried, tried hard, to become a "bad boy".  But I was not properly accepted, acclaimed, liked. People only laughed at me, saying, "Look at that good boy trying to act bad."

I kept on proving to myself and anyone else that I WAS bad, became a real drunk, and I existed with the emotions of a 15-year-old for the next 25 years.

Two things I wish to mention.  At age 15, when I REALLY began my BAD life, all those other "bad" guys became good guys, earned post-grad degrees with honors.  They got good jobs, stayed married, raised families "properly", became owners of successful businesses or respected elected officials (HA!).

By age 40, in poor health, I was stealing in order to support a rather expensive drug-and-booze habit.  Life continued--then Something happened!  I got well, began living with a gusto like never before, happily enthusiastic about EVERYTHING!  What that Something was is between me and It...but I always now capitalize the word Something.

--steveroni

AGELESS AGE

Beginning 3 PM Tuesday June 18
OpenLinkNight, Week #101 

@ dVerse Poets Pub

"ROCKY-TOP" Fireplace in each of 

630 Cracker Barrel Restaurants

in 42 states

LIVING IN AN AGELESS AGE

Been told, "so old,
more than old
--like tree mold"

This afternoon, in Cracker Barrel
restaurant, as blood vessels
welcomed plaque-reducing dinner:
fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, etcetera...

I sat--still old. Now
with added bold--
glanced "knowingly" through windows;
out in spoiling sunshine,
spotted our car.  Wondered I: 

"When did we get here? 
Which direction is the hotel?
What city did we stay last night?
Who are we visiting tomorrow?

"Is 'time' real?
Is UNIVERSE for real?
Is this TRUTH:   when
all is gone of push and shove,
remaining only and exclusively
shall be...LOVE?"

Anna returned from the "powder room"
--immediately I laughed, realized my
predicament, grabbed ahold
of my brain--remember? old mold?
--and holding my gold cross,
said to her, "Hey, we ARE in Naples?? 
We're Home!  RIGHT?"

Youthful laughter from she,
even more from heart-warmed ME!

who neither sane 
nor senile
be

--steveroni
LOVE and PEACE!

FINALLY

See my friends having fun at dVerse Poets Pub

Open Link Night...week 99!!!

Pixel People Perfection

THE LAST WORD

Ambulances flying,
then--cannot move .
People dying
roadways blocked

Symphony of cacophonies
all directions. Beeping horns,
braking wheels. Squeals of 
injured--oh! the blood one sees.

Rain drops forming little craters 
in pools of paling redness...
under cycle sitting marbleized,
waiting. Waiting, watching.

Wishing to be mobilized, 
to seek an overpass for
shelter. Stuck in the mud, 
no, stuck in the blood. 

Everywhere, stinky, sticky,
gooey--WAIT! That's MINE!
My life juice, mingling with
Rain water--Earth's life-juice.
What the fuck...

Bike tire looks pink. Maybe
angel wings? I think
one of those dying--is me.
Voices everywhere:  

"Slippery street. 
Poor fella  couldn't stop,
just slid under that truck.
Cover him with your umbrella."

"My window was open,
his last word I heard--
He simply said....
"What the fuck!"
And then I saw this 
big smile on his face."

--steveroni
6/5/13

Trying to recall an accident scene in which the biker died only several yards from me. Mingling that with story of my own accident 1½ years ago. NoFunAtAll...

ON A MIDNIGHT DARK AND DREARY--grin!

If a get a minute, slip on over to dVerse Poets Pub and see what's going on--it's OLN (Open Line Night) # 98.

ODE TO COIN LAUNDRY

 midnight.

swish swash

to'nFro

flosh, slosh

smash.

swishy-slosh

on'nOn

splash and 

sounds of SHHH-SHHH-SHHH!

slippery slope

round'nRound, back, forth

and again.....

too much soap!

Whirring, whirling

pocket full of bits (two at a time)

insert one at a time

heating. hot.

coffee! 

more, more coffee!

laundry-peep i'm not.

now one o'clock, 

to the dot.

la quinta, la quinta

i sing your song

soon be asleep...

all morning long.

--steveroni

a memorable weekend in virginia with poet extraordinaire brian, his wife, two sons, and prayer girl--i'm recalling now with fresh, clear mind, sitting in a motel laundry on 2nd floor...i do believe they tried to kill me!  

walking, hiking a "quarter mile"--which became nearly 3 miles?-- urging me to chase a momma duck and her babies, or roll down a steep, grassy mountainside (didn't do it!) freezing (64 deg. one evening)? "forcing" me to eat shovelfuls of gourmet burgers, poor dead chicken (cooked!), Italian sausages in a bed of angelic (ACHOO!) hair, and other epicurean delights, i managed to add 5 pounds to my avoirdupois.

a most fortunate man i am to have spent truly scintillating few days as house guest of the nicest hostess, host and entertaining, well-mannered young boys. 

two years back-to-back, they've allowed me to invade their happy nesting place. will they never learn? hmmm? I HOPE NOT! Thank you, Brian Family! It is an honor to know you all--or, as your wife might say, "y'all?"

Steve E
may 2013

SUMMERTIME--AND THE LIVIN' IS...

spring-fed pond about ½ mile from the farmhouse--my favorite place

splash!

...and how, now remember,

recalling those days...where have they went?

loved summer, despised winter.

consoled, i, by nice witch's wand

disguised as wafting breeze.

while slept by spring-fed pond

"PLOP!" jumping fish here, there,

conspiring, all, as heaven-sent

where she?

left me?

so far ago

shall never know.

splash!

ah! peace.

lost forever?

yet never cease!

existing-- 
like lost love?

no! 
like love found

anew.

you...

more splashing

my horse drinking

at water's edge

front hooves sinking

in beautiful mud,

awakening me

to new day.

already high

in blue sky

welcome sun

and i?

now re-living, savoring

every musical note of

lovely aloneness.

my ninth summer;

suitless swimming,

hearing, humming,

birds singing,

shhhhhh!

all so quiet.....

this--between you and me, luv.

(nobody else should ever know!)

beethoven's great ninth symphony

silently singing every note of

in my head, in my tent,

in my silent world of

peace...serenity...

SSSPLAAASHHH!

--steveroni

to be posted in a favorite place:
dVerse Poets Pub
after 3 pm every tuesday
this IS week #97

IT'S THE "LITTLE" THINGS

"If small things--for me--do not exist, 

the great is not great." 

- Jose Ortega and Steve E

Jungfrau Mountain Range, Switzerland

AWESOME!

six legs so small--moving speadily

across rock wall, moss-covered,

seems lost. comes thunder, rain.

stare i, in wonder

delightfully formed leaf

detaches itself, life spent.

perfection beyond belief...

i, in wonderment

all creation, constructed in spheres,

often wondered about that, too...

thick steel girders, huge wooden piers.

admiring, i. how about you?

water, air intrigue me

as do moons and stars.

as homo sapiens i "see"

black holes, quasars...

now i've stopped pondering,

no longer in wonder i stare.

wondering has maneuvered to awe

--finally, of God...aware

--steveroni 
3.10.2013

OKLAHOMA is the first musical written by the team of

composer richard Rodgers and librettist Oscar Hammerstein.

The original Broadway production opened March 31 1943.

A box-office smash, it ran for an unprecedented 2,243 performances

This is one favorite spot in the play for me:

ANNIE:

"With you it's all er nuthin.

All fer you an nuthin' fer me!

But if a wife is wise, she's gotta realize

that men like you are wild and free.

So I ain't gonna fuss, ain't gonna frown,

Have your fun, go out on the town,

Stay up late and don't come home till three.

And go right off to sleep, if you're sleepy,

There's no use waitin' up for me...."

Love, a Vignette

Human Love is about as understandable

as the galaxy pictured below, 

although some will say they "know" both!

This poem came to me while riding

home from a meeting today...and it

is one of the FEW of mine that I like!

andromeda galaxy

LOVE: OBSERVATON

That love in your heart?

ear does not hear

through all those so smart

words, via shiny monitor.

A voice may, of necessity

deliver messages of levity,

or profound promises

most delicately gossamer.

BUT.......

True love shows its

unmistakable self

between sweetest gazing

of two pair eyes,

so wise, no lies...

then it is, love can express

in kiss and caress

.......Exquisitely

--Steveroni
4 May 2013

(Real Love IS an action word. 
It is consistant and constant "doing" 
for another and others, 
in complete absence of self)

OPEN LINK NIGHT: LISTEN, MY CHILD, AND YOU SHALL...

Photo credit: Anna's son

HEAR!

child, what do you see?

what attracts your stare?

i believe that

only God is aware

what one day you'll be.

what put me there

in front of you

to catch this moment

of light, as yourself

you see in the lens?

grandchild of Anna

loved son of

loving son

who shall shoulder-carry

the family name, the tree.

be always ready...and aware.

each cat meeow, splashing fish,

running ant, sweet birdsong,

every Peep who comes along

teaches, reaches inside your brain...

learn to laugh, cry, live, love,

when pride says, "I KNOW"...dare!

a goal for you, baby one, be

Honest, Open-minded, Willing.

it is the HOW of living well.

and with your allure, I'm sure

a pleased God will say

you lived a life of

unending day.

fulfilling...

--steveroni

4/29/2013

Over @ dVerse Poets it is OpenLinkNight #94

--and the doors open Tuesday at 3 pm EST. HERE

YA NEVER KNOW

For Open Link Night, week #93 at dVerse Poets Pub. 

Postings begin Tuesday at 3 PM EST

EDNA WAS A BIKER-GIRL!

 A TOY CAN TAKE YOU 

ANYWHERE

Picture age four, a little boy
to whom Santa brought a toy
fiddle. Word rhymed with
diddle, as in "Hey Diddle, Diddle
The Cat and His Fiddle...
cow jumped over the moon, and
dish ran away with the spoon..."

I positively hated the violin
Hated my mother--a sin--
which led to many years
of torture, tears and fears.

SKIP from age 4 to 75
Hardly a man is now alive...?*

In nursing home a violin plays--
and it is ME, some days!
Playing for the old folks,
conjuring maybe a memory.

Smallest old lady (Edna) in wheelchair bent
over, as if God might send for her
that very afternoon. Eyes closed, nothing
moved...soundless room...just we two
alone (with about 40 others!), me
on floor, kneeling so I might see her face
and she, restrained with a brace, still in
mode of sightlessness.

I said to The Spirit--"What shall I play?"
Floated out from my violin that day, a
favorite "Ave Maria" which would say
most honest truth known, to Edna,
new Friend, most smallest lady--who
opened her blues, squinted at me. 

As we "connected" I saw a tear--only one,
roll down beautiful age-pruned place
along that creek where nose meets face.
What Utter joy--HOLY JOY I felt, as
her joyful memory-tears followed the one...

Thank You, God the Father
and Thank You, my Mother
for Gifts you both gave me that day,
Gifts for me to now give away......

As nursing aide rolled her away, I felt something taken from me.
Several days later, she was in heaven with her real Sancta Marie.
A nurse had whispered,
"We wondered if she would ever again
look out from her head bent there...
whether might once more shed a tear."

LAGNIAPPE:

...and every now and then, finding myself in a dark alley of life
I remember that day
and ask Edna to pray
for me.
--steveroni

This happened several years ago at                              
Moorings Park, Naples Florida

*from Longfellow's
Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

SIDE-BY-SIDE. STAND AND PRAY!

                                                      myriam loor

WE MUST LIVE WITH JOY
Is there a hell for these Peeps? HELL YES!
--Steve E

Pondering recent atrocities--while reading others who commented Monday's Boston Marathon 2013 happenings of horribleness--I found that I had not words to express my thoughts. Early this morning, picking up the most dusty book on my shelf, opening it randomly, I stared at this piece, as it stared back at me. From W H Auden's poem "Precious Five". This last stanza embodied my thinking, and is what I wished I could have written:

"I could" says the poet there,

Find reasons fast enough                        
To face the sky and roar
In anger and Despair
At what is going on--
Demanding that it name
Whoever is to blame.

The sky would only wait
Til all my breath was gone
And then reiterate
As if I wasn't there
That singular command
I do not understand:

Bless what there is, for being,

Which has to be obeyed, for
What else am I made for,
Agreeing or disagreeing?

--W H Auden

Posted by steveroni to dVerse Poets Pub 
Open Link Night (OLN), week #92

SAR-CHASM

Posted in OLN (Open Link Night) week #90.

Join us beginning 3 PM Tuesdays at dVerse…

The King of Sarcasm

walked into the room

with tongue cocked

ready to shoot.

Zing. Zing

Pop. Pop.

Bang!

Crippling blows

struck their targets

as he walked off

to sit alone…

and yes—

lonely

"Borrowed" from someone I do not remember.

Let me know, for attribution. Thank you.