THAT OLD TABLE

Last night Deborah and I we were treated to dinner it was a wonderful night I must assert.

We sat at a table (actually 2) one for dinner and one for dessert!

When we returned home, happy and full, Deborah tossed her purse on the table with ease

After locking the door and hanging up my jacket, I tossed on my wallet and keys.

As I stopped for a moment and looked at our old table I was overcome with tears

For I realized how important that table has been to our family down through the years. 

This is the table where our children grew up, it’s seen their laughter, their tears, felt their screams

It’s not only where we tossed our purse and our keys it’s where we piled our hopes and our dreams.

If I look hard enough I see children doing homework, coloring, or playing a game

Soaked into that table are memories of who they were, and the knowledge of who they became.

If I look again I see grandchildren and hear joy and laughter overhead

Only the voices don’t say Mom and Dad anymore they say Nana and PopPop instead.

It seems this table has been a confluence where our family has sat, laughed and dined

Once we leave we take a little bit of each other with us and leave a little of us behind.

Most days now at our table it’s just Deborah and me, now that our children are grown

But we both know when you eat at the table of memories...you never eat alone.

Then I realized everyone has tables where they’ve piled things over the years

Where they’ve shared dinners and parties and laughter and love and blood and sweat and tears.

Yes we often take them for granted, it may take us a lifetime to see

That it’s not just a table we’re sitting at...it’s part of our family.

So the next time you’re looking at photos, before your looking is through

Look closely and you’ll find a table, chances are it is smiling too.

ADJOINING ROOMS IN PARADISE

When Grandpa died we tried to explain 

That he’d never be back with us again

We talked of God and paradise

How his life with us was too concise.

It was a battle with cancer...cancer won

We searched for a good explanation but there wasn’t one.

And so I wondered with his life coming to an end,

How much did my son perceive...how much did he comprehend?

Until a few months later when Grandma’s life expired.

(She couldn’t live without Grandpa; she was too old...too tired.)

My son awoke late, I think around eleven

And asked if Grandma’s room was net to Grandpa’s in heaven.

At last I knew he understood and his reasoning will suffice 

For it’s lovely to think of Mom and Dad with adjoining rooms in paradise.

WHERE WE DRAW THE LINE

Does anyone else find it appalling as the years have tumbled by

That we’ve become accustomed to watching people die.

Anywhere we look, on the Internet or on TV

Death, destruction and civil wars make up most of what we see.

We like to think we have evolved we pride ourselves on that

We don’t see ourselves as animals...no, now we’re bureaucrats!

Which makes it kind of absurd that with all the killing going on 

We’ve decided chemical weapons is to be our rubicon.

You may kill your people with guns and knives, and tanks are not bizarre 

But pull out your chemical weapons and now you’ve gone too far.

Blow this city to pieces then blow up 20 more

But bring out a chemical weapon and this we can’t ignore.

Shoot rockets at each other, line your streets with shells and mines

But use a chemical weapon and you’ve overstepped the line

Since when did HOW people kill each other cause us outrage...and appall

Shouldn’t we be more horrified that people kill at all?

If the world would come together and the world would make a stand

Then we wouldn’t have to draw an arbitrary line upon the sand.

When we draw the line at killing and as a world community unite

Then and only then do we have a chance to win this fight.

Until the world is as dismayed with the killing be it chemical or not

Then this same world will never learn the lesson to be taught.

That every life is precious and if all our Gods are willing

We must, it is imperative, stop every kind of killing.

Sure I hate chemical weapons...any killing weapon yet devised

Is there anyone whose seen them who has not agonized?

But more than that I hate the fact that the rest of the world stands still

While acknowledging, hypocritically, there are acceptable ways to kill.

Yes, we kill each other like animals, and we watch while others maul 

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, if we’ve evolved at all?

THE DAY OUR WORLD CHANGED OVERNIGHT

12 years ago terrorists commandeered 4 domestic flights

And suddenly our world changed overnight.

Today people wore red, white and blue as a way

Of commemorating what our country went through that day.

For on that day with our world careening

Those three colors took on a different meaning.

Red represented all the blood that was lost

And that freedom can come at an extremely high cost.

White was the color on our faces that day

As we knelt down together with our families to pray

And blue was the color in our hearts and souls

We were country of people who could not be consoled.

For on the day of that brutal attack

The terrorists stole our innocence...which we’ll never get back.

Yes 12 years ago our world changed overnight

But 12 years later we can see daylight.

For though our colors may have faded... that didn’t last long

Yes the red, white and blue have come back strong.

Our country endured difficult conditions and all those dead

We were courageous in the face of danger-the epitome of red.

We tried to retain our purity and do what’s right

And began a new innocence- the essence of white.

We are vigilant, we persevere and seek justice too

Are all represented by the color blue.

So we proudly wear the colors for these colors shout

America may have been down...but we were never out.

THE POET IN US ALL

People ask me why am I attempting to write a poem a day

Am I getting old and crazy, do I have things I want to say?

In truth a poem is very simple, you think and in no time

You’re putting thoughts  together in words that somehow rhyme.

But a poem is more than rhyming...you must let your thoughts run free.

And suddenly the words you think..turn into poetry.

Anyone can do it...no matter how big or small

For hiding inside our heart and soul...is the poet in us all.

How quickly will your thoughts take hold and often make you sigh

For you could be creating the next great lullaby.

You’ll find your words give meaning to your trouble and your strife

And the poet in you just may make a difference in your life.

So people grab your pencils and some paper off the shelf

As you find the poet within you...you may surprise yourself.

The question shouldn’t be why am I attempting to write a poem or two

When you really stop to think about it...the question’s why aren’t you?

ONE MAN AND HIS GUITAR

When I was in college friends would sit around and it wouldn’t take us very long

Before someone brought out a guitar, started singing then we all sang along.

Once out of college I attended concerts in stadiums and enormous ball fields

Where the music was loud, the crowd immense and everyone vociferously squealed.

We didn’t care if it was raining or in humid 100 degree heat

We sang, we danced, we screamed and no one stayed in their seats.

It’s been years since I attended a concert and I guess it’s time to confess

That as I grow older although I don’t mind big crowds I find I seek them out less.

Saturday Deborah and I attended a house concert-we’d never been before

Truth be told we had no idea what to expect when we walked through the door.

A small group of people, many whom we didn’t know, I think around 49

Were gathered round in small groups eating and drinking wine.

Shortly we all squeezed into the living room-we didn’t have to travel far

We sat down...waited and soon...in walked one man and his guitar.

He was tall and thin and wore a straw hat and it didn’t take him very long

To look over the crowd and smile then tell a story and sing a song.

It’s funny how sometimes life comes full circle because at the evening’s end

It seemed less like attending a concert and more like with my old college friends.

He transported us back to simpler times and it didn’t take him very long

Before this one man with and guitar had the rest of us singing along.

His name is Jonathan Byrd--in folksinging circles I’m sure he is a star

But for 2 hours in our friends house he was just one man and his guitar.

You can have your gigantic concerts with your pop divas and rock and roll stars

As for me give me a house filled with friends, a sip of wine and one man and his guitar.

OH MY GOD

You may think me different or perhaps a little odd

For I am not religious...but I do believe in God.

“Why that can’t be.” You tell yourself. He is a little odd.

For he has to be religious if he believes in God.

I am not a theologian nor have I been formally trained

But I can think and I can feel...for God has given me a brain.

And my brain tells me my feelings are not at all absurd

For the line between the God I know and religion has been blurred.

Blurred by man who takes Gods words and in his name creates

A religion he thinks absolute...and thus discriminates.

Then other men create more religions and here’s where thing get odd

Soon we have a world of religions and just as many Gods.

Until the world is segregated and often times bereaved

By religions and the different Gods in which we all believe.

No matter what name religion gives their God I’m sure he or she’s dismayed

As she watches man explain her words in so many different ways.

What we have now is a world that, to me, seems a little odd

When so many people hate each other...all in the name of God.

Now I certainly don’t have all the answers and in many ways I’m flawed.

But let me introduce to you my non-religious God.

My God sits not upon a mountain top or on a throne high in the sky

And he does not wait to judge me the moment that I die.

My God resides within my heart and he helps to calm my soul

He befriends me on my journey but let’s me be in control.

My God advises and supports and helps guide me down my path

I certainly stand in awe of him but I do not fear his wrath.

My God believes in faith but his prophecies aren’t grim.

Because he has as much faith in me as I have faith in him.

My God believes in hope. He is not the voice of doom

For is it not hope in the seedling that allows the rose to bloom?

My God believes in charity, he knows the key for us to live

Is not how much we take in life...but how much we give.

Most of all my God believes in love. He knows it shall light the way

And he cares not if I am straight, or Bi, or lesbian or gay.

My God does not discriminate by the color of my skin.

And he cares not if I am young or old or overweight or thin.

My God does not see differences in man or womankind.

He loves each person equally...I think my God is blind.

(As I look out on the Earth today, on the world man has designed

Perhaps it would be easier if we were all a little blind!)

My God does not choose vengeance he has no capacity to hate

It is man, through his religion, who will judge and desecrate.

My God’s heart is filled with sorrow, his soul is filled with shame

When people maim and murder...and do so in his name.

My God feels only agony and oh how he abhors

When people use Him as a reason to fight a holy war.

For my God knows no war is holy and he wishes they would cease

He prays for man to use His name and live in holy peace.

No matter what people call their God I know He or She is sad

When they praise Her for the good in life or blame Him for the bad.

You see, My God is often times confused and certainly perplexed

When people think he controls what happens in this world or the next.

My God knows good and bad are part of life...I think this makes him wise

He knows everyone can find happiness and he knows everybody dies.

My God’s given me the ability to decide what’s right from wrong

Yet he accepts I’ll make mistakes for he knows my journey’s long.

So all He asks of me is kindness and to treat everyone the same

That when I die people will smile at the mere mention of my name.

For nothing in this world would bring a broader smile to My God’s face

Than knowing everyone created would leave this world a better place.

If we wish for this world to be different...then we all have to be a little odd

Perhaps we all should be less religious...and have more faith in God.