A Christmas Thought (short story)
by
rgpage

This time of the year,  when once giving from the heart has since melted like the snow in Spring to the meaningless demand for expensive toys and gadgets;  and Santa has waned to no more than the all-giving sugar daddy to each and every child,  and a tireless crutch to the mindless parent during the year; “Santa’s watching so you’d better be good.”

And alas,  there I stood in this huge department store amid a vast forest of toys, colors, and noises, fallen prey to this modern day hypocrisy known as Christmas.  Being of a lower middle economical standard,  and having with such stealth blindness juggled expenses and bills to afford myself the opportunity to plunge even deeper into dept.  I pondered these playful wonders of modern day technology.  All about countless numbers of people were doing as I in efforts to reward their children for their year of good service.

This was when I saw her. As fast as this seasonal frenzy had overtaken me just days earlier,  it vanished for a time as I watched her. It must have been that she seemed so out of place in this hurry-scurry festive scene of Christmas shopping that she caught my eye.  She was very old and her tattered,  worn out clothing all too obviously reflected the fact that she couldn’t afford much.  While others struggled about her almost comically laden with brightly colored  packages, this old woman had nothing more than an old purse dangling from her arm.  Slowly she moved, seemingly pained with the infirmities which accompany old age.  She appeared overweight for her stature which I’m sure added to her discomfort.  When she stopped in front of the doll section  her old, pudgy face glowed with joy.  Undoubtedly a doll for a little granddaughter,  I was  sure no more as she couldn’t possibly afford more.  I watched as she studied each doll
and its price tag,  going from one to the next.  Finally she stopped to give particular attention to one little doll adorned with colorful ribbons and big bright blue eyes.  Then putting the doll back,  she opened her purse and I watched as she counted the small amount of money that she had.  

By this time I had become so unexplainably absorbed with watching the old woman,  who with a smile closed her purse, retrieved the doll and walked slowly and painfully to the checkout counter to wait in line.  Around her the noise of parents and children alike waiting their turn to check out didn’t seem to bother her as she patiently waited, holding the precious little doll for an equally precious granddaughter.  Finally when her turn came, an all to cruel yet human trait appeared in not only the people waiting behind her but the checkout clerk as well. Their impatience to maintain a steady flow of human traffic through the turnstiles came to the forefront almost obliterating this seasonal spirit.  This didn’t seem to deter the old woman from slowly and surely counting out the correct change,  leaving her very little to return to her purse.

With this done and the doll tucked away in a shopping sack,  she proceeded through the large glass doors and out into the cold December night.  A passing thought, “one special gift for one special person,” went through my mind as I continued my own, now more selective tour of annual duty.  Looking over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the old woman, I suddenly felt as if struck by a jolt of electricity as I saw her on her back in the slushy snow, struggling like an over-turned turtle.

Bolting out the door hoping to be the first to reach her,  I almost found myself lying next to her on the slick sidewalk.  Nothing was said as I struggled to lift her up.  Once this was accomplished I asked her if she was alright.  Instead of answering  she started looking around for her package.  I spotted the torn, soaked paper sack some ten feet away in a slushy puddle and went to retrieve it.  The doll had come half way out of the sack and her little blonde curls were now filled with water and slush; and as I handed it back I searched the old woman’s face for even a trace of sadness, there was none. Instead she looked at me smiled and said, “thank you young man, it’ll dry out, it’ll be alright, Merry Christmas.”  Then holding the doll in both hands, she turned and went on her way, much slower and much more cautiously.  I just stood there and watched her until she finally disappeared in the crowd and darkness and thought to myself, “maybe Santa Claus isn’t a man after all.”

by
rgpage


together with my thoughts at last
i sit alone and wonder why.
i lived so loosely in the past
that now all hopes in life must die.

in youth i carried goals to be
with all the power that i had then.
the skies were blue and cloudless seas
and every day would bring new friends.

as i grew older love would fade
for this life so richly lived.
my thoughts of friends would soon abate
as would the trust in them i’d give.

the skies turned dark and threatened rain
and so for shelter my soul would run.
caring not who’s in my way
caring only now to see the sun.

the bellies of the clouds turned black
i stood alone to face my fate.
the fear went surging down my back
i looked for help some open gate.

the doors all closed from my own deeds
i’d slighted people in the past.
no one was there in time of need
so alone i faced this foe at last.

death did not come to my surprise
although my soul was scarred by rain.
i looked up toward the clearing skies
in hopes of life to start again.

the skies did clear and life i’d find
i lived again for friends i yearned.
i relived youth but for a time
until those clouds of rain returned.

those lonely clouds why do they come
what is this life that i must live?
why can’t there only be the sun
and why  can’t trust i always give?

by
rgpage

lonely is this life i live
i am the first son of death.
this lonely life he gave to me
when first i drew my breath.

i walk this earth without my kin
for he is in another life.
i live on earth in mortal sin
and leave his world in strife.

even now i see his life
the molten fires of hell.
the darkened heat and cries of fear,
and the devil's laughter as well.

and through the void of time i hear
a voice cry out in anguished vent.
as our father draws so near
“repent dear God, repent.”

for me this life goes oh so fast
at times i have no goal,
but accomplishments will always last
for this brother of mine my soul.

by
rgpage

man has a desire for eternal life; a life in length compared to that
of the stars in the sky, forever lasting. not a lonely vigil as the stars
with their solemn silent watch in the dark void of space, but a life filled
with earthly human pleasures. the pleasures of the soft silk like touch of
a woman's flesh, and a faint whisper of ecstasy in an unguarded moment of the heart. if eternal bliss cannot be granted then let death overtake at the moment of ******…

by
rgpage

the way at certain times i feel
my hopes, my life, my only goals
take wing to mental fantasies and soar

high above the scarred and tortured reality
to which i awaken each day.

alone now i feel the excitement from
the magnitude with which my giant brown
winged chariot carries me on an odyssey
seen only through my mind’s eye.

and as i look out across the broad massive
expanse of one wing alone, dwarfed by just
a solitary feather, i feel the security of
my mental fortress.

before me lies the horizon of life, a life
in which the sun is slowly waning toward the
west, oh God let this vehicle of mine catch
just the traces of twilight and hold them.

many times i’ve flown and many times found
release and gently glided to a soft landing
in slumber; sheltered in that darkened void
until awakened by the harsh light of day and
only then to realize that my journey had safely ended.

the light of life is real, yet the dusky
light of evening with its twilight softness
rounding off the sharp edges of my loneliness
is what i must cling to, and to this light i fly.

one day soon, with the change of the season
the sun will set completely, and
i on my final voyage will streak into the
darkness, crashing into the inevitable mountain
of death. leaving not the traces of sight or
sound, but just the absence of a person so
wrapped up in his own loneliness that he
couldn’t see the true light and love of those
around him….

by
rgpage

bundled in your favorite rags
protected from the world to see,
as cautious as a newborn now,
i carry you to your rest to be.

my thoughts drift back to happier times
you filled our lives w/ joy.
i fight back tears of sorrow now,
my strength a weakened ploy.

you slipped away in quiet sleep
as peaceful as your air.
your loving nature’s replaced with now,
death’s lonely tranquil stare.

a large piece of our hearts' you took,
when since you slipped away.
at pictures now we can only look
at a happier time, in a happier day.

we’ll see you in some future time  
when the Good Lord calls us home,
across the rainbow bridge you’ll run
happy, well and whole….

by
rgpage


when i look around this place
its antiquated beds and halls,
and hearing sounds that old age brings
the sounds of sadness through the walls.

and glancing into weary eyes
which stare ahead in planted gaze.
i wonder what story there in lies
a story in which they lived their days.

now at last they're all alone
alone because they have no place
no place that they can call their own
no children now to show their love.

yes lives now spent and youth gone past
their silver hair and faces red,
this lonely life they live at last
and roam these halls until they're dead.

old and crippled a man now lies
a cruel way for life to end.
to stay this way until he dies
in dim lit room void of friends.

quietly now a woman sits
her spouse and children long since gone.
to do no more but wait her turn
of when her lonely life is done.

a sorrow touches felt by all
of knowing that the end is near,
there's those awaiting final call
a call to death which few do fear...

by
rgpage
      

strolling with her lover at the dark water’s edge
blonde wisps of hair riding the evening’s breeze,
snuggling in on his tight muscled form
as the breakers roar with a great lion’s ease .

a late night stroll on deserted shore
the dark hour’s flushed with the full moon’s glow
light barely enough for their silhouette’s form,
with the ocean’s mighty music of its wave’s ebb and flow.

on a wool blanket stretched upon the cool evening sand
alone with nature the couple takes pause
she sits and leans back on his bare muscled chest
lightly stroking his arm with her nail like claws.

silently now with the moon’s nightly toil
on the breakers rhythm pulled from the sea,
with one finger lifting a tiny stringed strap
a motion foretelling of the pleasures to be.

his fingers gently gliding the strap down her arm,
exposing a prize for which he did yearn.
warm kiss’ exchanged, give personal consent
gentle fondling, soft kissing, their secrets are learned.

time pass’ quickly with the couple’s desires
the ocean’s loud din now muffled and still.
replaced by hearts pounding, love’s ultimate chase
their gifts to each other of a lover’s free will.

united now with beaded up sweat
two bodies joined in their love’s embrace;
and a gentle kiss of the ocean’s breeze
at the water’s edge where breakers chase….

little furry yappers and big lumbering well winter rested dawgs spring is here, spring is here went to the dog park today, so many smells and owner's yells at their hairy kids at play. they don't care, it's fun in the sun as off they run and find new friends today. when they get home they'll sleep and dream of their magical time in a distant place, 'cause spring is here hooray...

by
rgpage

of all God's majesty the power he wields
from His smallest flower to most vengeful wrath.
from dawns first light over frosted fields
His simplest miracles lining our paths.

let's take the time from our journey to stay
and admire His artistry quiet and grand.
with quiet love He closes each day
artistic beauty for this moment planned.

and as He takes the sun from our sight
the sky brightens up with colors asplash.
'til gone from our view to the darkness of night
if we don't take the time His efforts are dashed.

and lost to us now just time in the day
for God's gift to us we did not see
we did not see His nature at play;
or know for us His love to be.

in closing let's pray to God's quieter side
for this particular time of day.
that we get time out from our hectic stride
to take in His grandeur and say.….....thank you Lord.

by
rgpage

In this quiet time of night, I lie alone and prey to the bitter pain of
joy's absence. Lost in my mind's shallow thoughts the sharp fragments of
happy memories since shattered ***** at the sensitive fringes of my sleep.

Sleep: Nature's sanctuary

A quiet haven, an island set apart
from the daily consciousness of life
where my thoughts may at last run free.

An island with white sandy shores as
far as the eye can see. Blemished only
by my solitary figure walking the blue
water's edge.

And the forests of my paradise, their
deep green density gives substance to
my world. Often I stop to ponder their
far reaching greenness.

The warm subtle breeze carrying the
fragrance of this foliage across my
face, fills my nostrils with the pleasures
of nature.

And occasionally a gull overhead,
drifting unchallenged on the soft
warm currents of the azure, as free
in his world as I in mine; lends companionship.

All of the sudden in the beat of a heart,
from no where a large black cloud appears
to smother the sun's warm light, turning
the blue sky and green foliage black
and the white sand that I once walked
upon a cold gray.

And just ahead of me lying there in
death's humiliation, my winged companion;
soaked and scorned at the dark water's
edge.

I awaken:

This cold room and bed the greatest part of my conscious moment, and the sound of a distant train bell mocking the destruction of my comfort; its havoc upon my sleep done it now moves on. Saddened I once again wade through the shallow bogs of my loneliness, and the pains of memories of the love and life i'd wasted return. This painful sleepless night a most cruel retribution for my past. So firmly entrenched it seems I may never return to my paradise; yet remain in this cold room to suffer the long night's tortures.

Returning:

The warm sunlight, and gentle caress
of the water's pulse upon the white
sand.

And overhead my pure white friend
again drifts on the warm currents of
air, heralding not my return
but praising my presence....

...for my presence alone, gives
life to this warm yet oh so precariously
balanced paradise.

The white beach with its warm sand
leads me on my journey to the morning,
as I walk the blue water’s edge.

by
rgpage

to be loved
how should I act?
not poor and pathetic
maybe wealthy, athletic.
a man of song
a man of dance
one most willing
to take a chance.
with friendly smile
or cheeky grin,
no down cast eyes
and quivering chin.
no pity’s not
the way to go,
should never let
my feelings show.
but wait a minute
how honest is that?
a constant smile
and tip of the hat…?
a loveable rogue
that everyone knows,
with a pose out of vogue
where my best side shows.
don’t let her see
the inner me,
from contradictions
she might flee.
they say all’s fair
in love and war,
so give her what
she needs to see
just that and
nothing more….