Music of our lives.

It’s been a while
since I’ve got round
To putting words
on paper down.

But life’s a busy
dizzy stream
Of people met
And places seen

One life now gone
No maybe two
My wife in passing
Took  mine too

But she lives on
though in my mind
Her memories
never left behind
A precious treasure
locked away
To savor on
a troubled day

But this is not
a sad refrain
While she’s in heaven
I remain
And live a life
the gypsies know
An endless trek
avoiding snow.

Each fall I load
the truck with stuff
A truck that’s never
big enough
To hold our endless
piles of gear
Of things we need
lugged far and near

For now we have
another home
Way in the south
to which we roam
And spend our winters
in the sun
Good friends, fine meals
and dances fun

All older folks
I seem to see
And many
over eighty be
And life may end
for some real soon
For Florida’s
Heaven’s waiting room

But till that day
those folks aren’t wrong
To live life full
And party on.
So with the pack
I spend my time
And all their pastimes
Fully mime


But come the spring
the parties done
We flee the blinding
burning sun
Back to the north from
whence we fled
Th e north we love
Since winters dead

Back to our homes
We now all strive
Such is the music
Of our lives.

“So is it in the music of men's lives.    King Richard II: V, v”

If you’d like more
of this long pun
I’m sorry folks
The writings done.

Tis quiet now.
This day is done
A busy day
Chalk full of fun

Walks with the pups
in grass so tall
They leaped to see
or move at all

Flea markets toured
once junk ,now not
Now treasures prized
and gamely sought

We shopped a while
had stuff to get
all shops were full
On Sunday yet

Back to the camp
on busy roads
of folks and campers
Heading home

But no so us
Our time to play
two weeks is ours
on holidays

A charcoal fire
With cast iron grill
Dogs, fries and steaks
All bellies filled

While sipping  tea
a book is read
the tired pups
sent to their beds

My lady too
Is fast asleep
so to the internet
I creep

While of the day
my mind does roam
I take a sec
to write this poem

No work of art
on silver tray
just simple verse
of one fine day

A poet not

Perhaps someday I’ll write a rhyme
If so inclined and have the time

A play on words, a touch of wit
Tis true, I have some nack for it

Of pace and meter, twisted words
Passion, feelings, things I’ve heard

But not just now, my soul is old
My mind is numb , my muse too cold

My thoughts are shallow, as a pond
While poets need, an ocean strong

And so for now I’ll meditate
On poems of friends, I know are great

Just a rhymer - Justa Civileon 2003

Oh for a muse of fire.

Sitting quiet, meek and still
Silent, silenced, till I shrill
out
Crys. Laments for words to use
To spark,  inflame, my chilly muse
Prayers to heaven, to the gods
To the furies, hear my sobs
and pray now
Send a spark sublime
Perfect platter, all in rhyme.

Justa Civileon 2003

Flee the Ghetto  

Times and Motions
Whirls and Swirls
Around the universe
we twirls

Great Space is black
all pinpoint lights
So cold and bleak
through all the night

Our best minds sit
and stare in awe
In altars, perched
on mountains tall

Seeking vistas,
Planets fine
Warm and wet
With Oceans Brine

Pure, swept With winds
fresh and new
A Paradise,
unblemished dew.

For we must flee
This planet small
Too many we
and soon the fall

Is eminent
if not we go
and refuge find
Pray God bestow

While we have time
To start anew
To try again
for we were fools

And ruined the place
gave us in Love
God’’s great gift
from Heav'n above

Dear Earth, fair home
All blessings be
Beloved of Man
On bended knee

We bow to you
You fleck of rock
You grain of sand
That bears our flock

Our precious home
for man to stand
and look around
and understand

How fragile’s life
A gift so rare
For all we’ve found
Of life Is here

So search brave priests
of this new age
of our demise
you are the sage

Please Save us guys
you honored few
To you we cry
it’’s up to you

For we poor clods
have fought, and ruined
This grant from God
Destroyed too soon.

Find us a home
Another womb
Another Harbor
Please find one soon

For us to raise
our children strong
and try to teach them
right from wrong

That black or white
means not at all
that violence
precedes a fall

Too many players
Too small a stage
A madness caused
A screaming rage.

Our history
A tale of woe
Of endless wars
Tombstones in rows.

Our weapons might
Now reaches all
no refuge from
the killing fall

You made those things
Those killer toys
Now turn your brains
Look outward boys!

We need your help
and God’’s as well
This fate to turn,
This ride to hell  

For we have learned
to dread the sight
of timeless darkness
endless night

We need some friends
To fight and play
Another species
Help us pray

Or we will end.
and all will turn
to endless blackness
Hell  returned.  

Justa Civileon 2003

gender neutral on the "guys"

Not one of my uppiest rambles but I never was a light person

I Can’t Find My Glasses - Care Givers Prayers

I can’’t find my glasses?
Okay little one
just wait for a sec
till the dishes are done

I can’’t find my glasses?
Okay ***, lets look
perhaps in the bedroom
While reading your book

I can’’t find my glasses?
Now where could they be?
On the couch, or the table
On top the TV?

I can’’t find my glasses?
It’’s fine now , don’’t fret
You’’ve just now misplaced them
We oft times forget.

I can’’t find my glasses?
Prap’’s here, in this room
Don’’t cry now my darling
We’’ll locate them soon.

I can’’t find my glasses?
Here give me a hug.
Don’’t cry and don’’t fret now.
You cute little bug.

I can’’t find my glasses?
What’’s this that I feel.
Your pockets the culprit
See what is revealed.

My glasses! You’’ve found them!
Her smile’’s just a beam.
Her joy is unbound less.
Her panic serene.

She skips to the bedroom
To fuss and to play.
"I can’’t find my glasses"
The third time. Today.  

Dedicated to my wife a young grandmother with alzhieimers.

Justa Civileon 2004