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my heaven manifested, or maybe just fool's paradise.
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29/F
Poems
Robert G Page
Dec 2015
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
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.”
David Ehrgott
Apr 2016
On 3/2/2016 at approximately 10:15 a.m. I was threatened by Bryan Pearsall as I was exiting the building where I reside. He made threats to me which contained language that no one should have to hear. I ignored his threats and continued on my daily routine. I proceeded to the 7-11 to purchase a cup of coffee. As I was walking out of the 7-11 into the parking lot Mr. Pearsall again approached me, making threatening remarks. I then noticed a police officer on State Street. I asked the police officer for assistance in this matter and he (the officer that was not wearing a name tag) refused to offer any help. I continued on to Main St. Walking down Camden Street I noticed another police officer on the other side of Main Street. His car was parked on Camden St blocking off traffic to Camden St. as there was construction going on that day. When I shouted out the Suspects name to confront him. The Suspect Bryan Pearsall then entered the Gateway School to hide an opened container of alcohol. The police officer who also was unidentifiable due to not displaying his name tag exclaimed "I'm not getting involved" and went in to his patrol car slamming the driver's side door. I then proceeded to enter the Johnson Public Library. I then used the computer's word processor to type up an affidavit. About twenty minutes later. The police officer that was blocking off Camden Street entered the library. He said that "that guy you tried to turn in is a cop. Watch what you say to cops"! I replied with "If he's a cop then I'm Corporal Christ! I'm pretty sure the police department wouldn't hire a drunken ******. "Oh" the unidentified officer continued "how do know THAT?" "Because he's lived across the hall from me for the past five years and I know from the drinking and puking and stupor that he is in fact a drunk ******." I retorted "Well, he's a cop" the officer replied, and then left the building. About a minute later, the suspect Bryan Pearsall entered the JPL. He stood about eight feet from me and stated that he was a cop. The woman that runs the circulation dept. overheard him and stated "Bryan Pearsall you get over here you ain't no cop and that officer is in trouble." (I thank the stars for honest people like Ellen.) After I typed up my report, I headed towards the Hackensack Police Department. At that time I felt a little hungry and stopped for a late breakfast at the lucheonette. As soon as I finished eating I went to the front desk of the HPD to turn in my report. Not only did the Desk Seargent spat on me, he stated that he was not interested in helping scuzbags and continued spatting on me. I think now that I have no other choice but to take the law into my own hands. If the law won't help me, there is always the old fashion way to receive JUSTICE.
You've Been Timetabled
Jul 2023
~
July 2023
HP Poet: N (Neville Pettitt)
Country: UK
Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Neville. Please tell us about your background?
N: "Although I currently post my little scribbles here under the initial N, I once used to sign myself off with my full first name which is Neville and in fact, I may well do so again .. For anyone interested, my full pen name is Neville Pettitt and it is only after much deliberation that have I decided to reveal it here today .. My birth name is different .. The reason for my caution is entirely due to my line of work .. I am employed as a clinical specialist in adult psychiatry, with special interests in substance misuse, personality disorder and clinical risk management .. Consequently, from time to time I may be called upon by the Coroner, local Mental Health Trusts, or very occasionally the police dept, to conduct in depth investigations into serious adverse events for example, murders and or suicides .. I hope the reason for my transparency becomes clearer as you read on (that is, assuming anyone actually does read on) .. I studied at both Middlesex & Hertfordshire universities and have occasionally served as a volunteer in psychiatric facilities overseas .. The longest was a few years ago at Tanka Tanka Hospital in West Africa the Gambia and Senegal to be precise where I managed to last just under six months .. I am as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth, I was born and currently live in a beautiful part of England by the sea in the county of Somerset and in an old converted Banked Barn that dates back to 1547 .. I know I am very lucky .. I have two grown children .. My daughter heads up the hepatology department at a local hospital and my son has his own business .. My wife was previously a partner at a General Practice .. In 1995 I registered as a Kongo Zen Buddhist and am also a black belt student of Shorinji Kempo which I also used to teach .. "
Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
N: "I guess I have been writing poetry for the best part of my life to date, certainly from around ten or eleven and I have been posting here at ‘Hello Poetry’ for around three years or thereabouts .. "
Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
N: "When asked what inspires me, I often find myself lost for words because there are so many things, I love nature, people generally, travelling, my work occasionally and those I encounter during the course of just being .. There’s probably not a lot that I have not been inspired to write about at some time or other .. Relationships of course do tend to feature a lot, as do both losses and gains of various kinds .. My lovely parents, now both deceased were also a great source of inspiration too .. I would be lieing if I denied getting pleasure from writing .. I get a great deal of pleasure from it .. and I enjoy trying to give others pleasure too .. Sometimes my muse deserts me for a while and I get those dreaded blank page days but always carry a pen and notepad around just in case something tickles my fancy or I get one of those light bulb moments .. "
Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?
N: "As already mentioned, poetry in many of its various forms has been a major part of my life, if not a friend and comfort for almost as long as I can remember .. I also use it as a means of expressing my self and communicating with others .. However, in the last five or six years, I have been publishing anthologies in order to raise money for each of my chosen charities .. Mental Health of course features, but also for Breast cancer since my wife had this .. More recently however, Brain Tumour research has been included following the death of my sister in law and my little niece developing a similar brain tumour too at age four years .. I currently have eight books/anthologies of poetry in print which are available almost anywhere on the planet from Amazon .. and these are listed in chronological order below a ninth is due out in early 2024 and called A Handful of Ghosts and a Woman in Blue .. a bit of a mouthful I know, but it features an old image of my wife on the cover ..
Turquoise & Other Shades of Blue
Somewhere Behind These Eyes
Victims of Indifference
Beautiful Bruises
The Logic of Fools
Cotton Girls & Paper Chains
Chasing Light
Slaves of Eros"
Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?
N: "My favourite poets are Leonard Cohen whom I kind of grew up with and who incidentally once wrote to me twice in fact .. or to be absolutely correct, the first time, he answered one of my letters to him .. I am also a fan of the late great Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski and oh’ so many others both classical and more modern .. "
Question 6: What other interests do you have?
N: "Other interests include travelling in particular foreign travel, dining in and eating out, gardening painting and drawing when I have time .. (hardly ever these days) I still practice zazen as per Kongo zen and I enjoy reading and listening to music .. "
Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for taking part in this series, my friend! You have truly enlightened us about yourself.”
N: "Finally, I would just like to say what a real and great honour and a privilege it was to be asked to post a little about myself here on this mighty fine poetry site and to express my very sincere thanks to anyone that follows me or reads just one of my works .. Many thanks to one and all .. Peace, Love & All Good Things, Neville"
Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed Neville's story. For certain I have. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)
We will post Spotlight #6 in August!
~
July 2023
HP Poet: N (Neville Pettitt)
Country: UK
Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Neville. Please tell us about your background?
N: "Although I currently post my little scribbles here under the initial N, I once used to sign myself off with my full first name which is Neville and in fact, I may well do so again .. For anyone interested, my full pen name is Neville Pettitt and it is only after much deliberation that have I decided to reveal it here today .. My birth name is different .. The reason for my caution is entirely due to my line of work .. I am employed as a clinical specialist in adult psychiatry, with special interests in substance misuse, personality disorder and clinical risk management .. Consequently, from time to time I may be called upon by the Coroner, local Mental Health Trusts, or very occasionally the police dept, to conduct in depth investigations into serious adverse events for example, murders and or suicides .. I hope the reason for my transparency becomes clearer as you read on (that is, assuming anyone actually does read on) .. I studied at both Middlesex & Hertfordshire universities and have occasionally served as a volunteer in psychiatric facilities overseas .. The longest was a few years ago at Tanka Tanka Hospital in West Africa the Gambia and Senegal to be precise where I managed to last just under six months .. I am as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth, I was born and currently live in a beautiful part of England by the sea in the county of Somerset and in an old converted Banked Barn that dates back to 1547 .. I know I am very lucky .. I have two grown children .. My daughter heads up the hepatology department at a local hospital and my son has his own business .. My wife was previously a partner at a General Practice .. In 1995 I registered as a Kongo Zen Buddhist and am also a black belt student of Shorinji Kempo which I also used to teach .. "
Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
N: "I guess I have been writing poetry for the best part of my life to date, certainly from around ten or eleven and I have been posting here at ‘Hello Poetry’ for around three years or thereabouts .. "
Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
N: "When asked what inspires me, I often find myself lost for words because there are so many things, I love nature, people generally, travelling, my work occasionally and those I encounter during the course of just being .. There’s probably not a lot that I have not been inspired to write about at some time or other .. Relationships of course do tend to feature a lot, as do both losses and gains of various kinds .. My lovely parents, now both deceased were also a great source of inspiration too .. I would be lieing if I denied getting pleasure from writing .. I get a great deal of pleasure from it .. and I enjoy trying to give others pleasure too .. Sometimes my muse deserts me for a while and I get those dreaded blank page days but always carry a pen and notepad around just in case something tickles my fancy or I get one of those light bulb moments .. "
Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?
N: "As already mentioned, poetry in many of its various forms has been a major part of my life, if not a friend and comfort for almost as long as I can remember .. I also use it as a means of expressing my self and communicating with others .. However, in the last five or six years, I have been publishing anthologies in order to raise money for each of my chosen charities .. Mental Health of course features, but also for Breast cancer since my wife had this .. More recently however, Brain Tumour research has been included following the death of my sister in law and my little niece developing a similar brain tumour too at age four years .. I currently have eight books/anthologies of poetry in print which are available almost anywhere on the planet from Amazon .. and these are listed in chronological order below a ninth is due out in early 2024 and called A Handful of Ghosts and a Woman in Blue .. a bit of a mouthful I know, but it features an old image of my wife on the cover ..
Turquoise & Other Shades of Blue
Somewhere Behind These Eyes
Victims of Indifference
Beautiful Bruises
The Logic of Fools
Cotton Girls & Paper Chains
Chasing Light
Slaves of Eros"
Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?
N: "My favourite poets are Leonard Cohen whom I kind of grew up with and who incidentally once wrote to me twice in fact .. or to be absolutely correct, the first time, he answered one of my letters to him .. I am also a fan of the late great Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski and oh’ so many others both classical and more modern .. "
Question 6: What other interests do you have?
N: "Other interests include travelling in particular foreign travel, dining in and eating out, gardening painting and drawing when I have time .. (hardly ever these days) I still practice zazen as per Kongo zen and I enjoy reading and listening to music .. "
Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for taking part in this series, my friend! You have truly enlightened us about yourself.”
N: "Finally, I would just like to say what a real and great honour and a privilege it was to be asked to post a little about myself here on this mighty fine poetry site and to express my very sincere thanks to anyone that follows me or reads just one of my works .. Many thanks to one and all .. Peace, Love & All Good Things, Neville"
Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed Neville's story. For certain I have. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)
We will post Spotlight #6 in August!
~
N: "Having been asked to list a few of my own favourite poems has proved impossible .. not because there are so many, but because, I truly feel that my next one will be it .. however, I do sincerely hope that others here who are kind enough to visit any of my scribbles will each have their own .."
Carlo C. Gomez: "I highly recommend Neville's book 'Turquoise and Other Shades of Blue.' It's an anthology of 200 journeys. Open and direct, Neville allows us to be privy to his disquieting thoughts about life, love, loss, ***, curiosities, and travails; whether they be his successes or failures. The poem ‘War Is Not for Lovers’ is an essential read."
War Is Not For Lovers:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3333072/war-is-not-for-lovers/
Link to book:
https://www.amazon.com/Turquoise-Other-Shades-Neville-Pettitt/dp/1699210268/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3MYUAAWTXINAK&keywords=neville+pettitt&qid=1688237395&sprefix=neville+pettitt%2Caps%2C146&sr=8-2
Carlo C. Gomez: "I highly recommend Neville's book 'Turquoise and Other Shades of Blue.' It's an anthology of 200 journeys. Open and direct, Neville allows us to be privy to his disquieting thoughts about life, love, loss, ***, curiosities, and travails; whether they be his successes or failures. The poem ‘War Is Not for Lovers’ is an essential read."
War Is Not For Lovers:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3333072/war-is-not-for-lovers/
Link to book:
https://www.amazon.com/Turquoise-Other-Shades-Neville-Pettitt/dp/1699210268/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3MYUAAWTXINAK&keywords=neville+pettitt&qid=1688237395&sprefix=neville+pettitt%2Caps%2C146&sr=8-2