The gray pathways
Cobbled with stone
Time has entrenched
Melancholy in every piece
It leads to desolation
Yet he walks the beaten path
Bleeding his exposed feet
Blindfolded by pain
Numbness has set in
Every day as he walks past
Shoveling him away
Like a pile of dirt
Trashed away from life
Only to heap more misery
On the trampled heart
Its feeble cry unheeded
By the city, that walks past
Avoiding the dark alley










© Amitav (Radiance)

Baseball was my passion
that year when the world
still seemed like a safe place
to hang my hat.  Dad was
buying horses left and right
while Mom shook her head
and kept her silence knowing
this was just another one of
his wild-*** hairs that seemed
to get a little crazier each year.
Credence Clearwater Revival
was hot and singing songs
about rain on the radio.  
School was out and I would
go over to the creek to swim
after I finished whatever chores
Mom had me doing those days.
Sometimes I would lie on the
Devil's Bed rock next to the
little falls where the biggest
trout liked to feed and listen
to the bugler from the Army
burial detail playing taps for
that days funeral. I wondered
what it would feel like to be
the son of the soldier getting
buried up on the hill having
to wear a suit and not cry. It
always gave me a lump in my
throat. My brother said it was
a shame and Johnson should
be shot instead. I always agreed.
We all watched the nightly news
together after supper and before
Hogan's Heroes came on.  The VC
were handing it to our guys in
a place called Hue and Mom cried
when a South Vietnamese officer
pulled out a pistol and BANG
shot that dude in the head
right there in front of god, me,
Mom and everybody. I went to
bed that night and  decided that I
wasn't going to pray any more.
We lost every game for the rest
of the season and I didn't care.
I've never forgiven that officer
for shooting that guy dressed
in black right in front of me,
god, my Mom and everybody.

r ~ 6/3/14

O, Traveller
They were glorious
Our boys in gray
Tho the blue carry this day
We shan't forget
No, never.

O, Traveller
Did you see them march
To beating drum
To smoke and fire
Our boys in gray
We shan't forget
No, never.

O, Traveller
This rain and mud
Virginia awaits in sorrow
The day is gray
For our boys
We shan't forget
No, never.

r ~ 5/26/14

Mime me a river
Silver with salmon
Running forever
Clear, cold and free.

Mime me a mountain
High as Montana
Headwater's fountain
Top clad in snow.

Mime me a meadow
Lush green with lark
Holding clouds' shadows
Fast in her arms.

Mime me a time
When sweet sky was open
And slow moon could climb
Shine right through the breeze.

Mime me a river
Silver with salmon
Running forever
Clear, cold and free.

r ~ 5/28/14

Beneath the mango tree
death turns slowly -
creaks the branches/
untouchable - the tears
hanging low above the ground -
slowly swinging - no more singing/
beneath the mango tree.

r ~ 5/30/14