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 Jul 2017 Denel Kessler
Sjr1000
can end at
any time

The lightening flash
The thunder crash
The clouds forming a question mark
in the skies

There is a silence in
the winds

Better to have had a
good time
than a bad time,
what ever for you
that is

Hold on tight
my dear

We'll make it through
I promise you
I'll be seeing you
at the end of time.
Julys have come and gone
in the hills of Shillong
and from the browned ORWO
the skinny boy with an oversized cap
smiles as if there's no tomorrow
but this moment
wrapped in fog and drizzle
holds everything within
the now filling life to the brim
making growth a needless shape
absurdly redundant
and never more real
than the eyes
peering from that shot of time
ecstatic in happiness
rejecting a future
too intangible
to be valuable.
Shillong is a hill station in the state of Meghalaya (abode of the clouds) in India.
This work is inspired from a photo of mine taken there in July, 1978, I chanced upon from an old album. I feel I've moved too far from that boy to bear his identity any more.
While looking for a bridge
  to cross over tonight

Connecting time honored values
  to internet blight

I thought and I pondered,
  as I surfed on the net

But the things that it offers
  are sadly abject

Where is the laughter
  the thrill of the chase

Through forest and meadow
  with all of your mates

Gone is the connection
  looking eye into eye

Replaced now with distance
  and its virtual lie

The children are programmed
  their bits and their bytes

With screens the new playgrounds
  their couches—their life

Where all of this leads,
  I’m fearful to know

As I look for that bridge
  where our youth can still go

To return from the chaos
  to a welcoming time

Where friendships were made
  in a tree you just climbed

But the harder I search
  the dimmer it gets

Quicksand reinvented
  their souls it collects

Though cards stack against me,
  I remain on my quest

The young are still worth it
 —and hope never rests

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)
a companion piece to
miniskirts & high heels vs. poetry & yoga^
<•>

a couple of buds at a local dive bar, drinking Buds,
talking loud about technology
and other manly man stuff

attract attention for our conversation isn't bout sports,
get approached by long legs in high heels and a miniskirt,
with the best come on line ever
any woman invented,
"you guys know about computers, huh?"

later after reading twenty or so of her poems,
and learning the degree of difficulty of the
downward facing dog pose
(adho mukha svanasana)
she said:

tell me again how I
clear my cache,
change my font,
add more memory for new memories,
stop auto correct from making wont into want,
so I can happy write


"wont thy thoughts to my heart thereof"

so I obliged and then
the geek in meek wrote
his first poem

after first clearing the catch  
in his throat
To trust
to believe
that which
isn't
      there
When the storm closes
its eye around
             you
There is no way out
but trust
   to a hope
that it's not
the end
just a road you take
to get to
         the peace
you desperately hope
              and believe in
 Jul 2017 Denel Kessler
Twigzy
10th July 2017

To My Husband

As I watch your life, slipping away
We share all the things we want to say

We have time to reflect, encourage and love
To be grateful with warmth, to look beyond and above

We remember the good and laugh at the bad
And take time to listen and embrace the sad

It is a rich time, this time that we have
What has been, what is now, is what will be had

As your strength fades, and your eyes slowly dim
We look beyond the body you are in

When death approaches and your final breath taken
We know your spirit, will soar with elation

You will look at this world and say your goodbyes
And peace will take you as you pass through the sky’s

All the best for your journey
Your loving wife
My husband was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer we only had a few months to say goodby and make peace. It was the richest time of our marriage
When the moon is full
A shiny silver disc
I'd steal it and roll it along
Like a hoop with a stick
All the way to your door
And give it you as a gift

Then I'd reach up to the sky
And grab the brightest stars
I'd gather them together
And place them in a jar
So you could let them loose
When the night is dark

And when the weather's bad
And the sky is dark with rain
I'd fill my lungs with air
And blow those clouds away
Then I'd push the sun over you
So you'd come out to play

I'd knock on your front door
And greet you with grace and style
Then I'd sing and dance foolishly
Just to make you smile
In fact, I would do anything
To make you happy for a while

                                                By Phil Roberts
Upon awakening I almost never,
jump right out of bed, as I once did.
Slowly I rise to sit awhile on the edge
of  my days desired intentions.
Stiffly I stand and tentatively step away
towards the bathroom to relieve my
most pressing bladder urges.

Those parts of me that do still work,
do now mostly hurt and that's for certain.
Like any other machine, my body's warranty
has long ago mostly expired.

When we old friends now gather,
rather than palavering about our kids,
our golf game, or our ******* Boss at work,
the collective commiserating talk always turns
to our individual deteriorating health matters.

How things once were and no longer are.
Our new hurts and concerns laid out in
vivid detail, what the latest tests revealed
and what the Doctor said or concluded.  
These shared aging complaints you see,
seem almost limitless and all consuming.

We become a little like a hapless clergyman,
preaching wishful consoling rhetoric to his choir.
Not one of us knows, or has the answers
to any of life's BIG questions and actually
never did.

Misery you see, does indeed love company,
talking and sharing seems to help I guess,
being the only real tonic offered or taken,
no prescription required or need be written.
For all of us, limping along through the
aging process. Nothing to do for it but
to laugh and accept it.
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