This poem is about my beautiful, younger sister…..Ruthann.
She’s always in mind, through every day’s grind,
and the feelings have been there for years.
But we live far apart….which challenges the heart
to be there to comfort the tears
when either of us stumble that leads us to grumble
about things that we soon won’t recall.
And we sort of know why….using words to imply
about matters not important, at all.
But her heart is of gold and too warm to let ‘mold’
even think…. of gathering there.
And remarkably so, she casts off a glow
that captivates those near her…. to care
about the strength of her love that she gets from up above
from God…. through smiles you can’t miss.
And the distance apart still challenges the heart
but never the love…. for Little Sis!
copyright 2013 t. j. gargano
Watching the grand kids at play is a wonderful experience at moments when our life needs a little excitement, don’t you think? Back to pretend land and the fascination of our youth. Have a great day!
The ‘Volcano Sistas’
Though four, they wander like most youngsters do
and you wonder just what is about to ensue,
when two little minds are playing their games
in faraway places…. only they know the names.
Though deep in their world, they know you are there
watching them play from your nice, comfy chair,
and ever so often they’ll give you a glance,
then return to their ‘place’ in a fairy-like dance.
They talk in strange voices of differing pitch
befitting of fairies or a wicked old witch.
They dress up in clothes matching each different mood
as they drink pretend tea that they’ve recently brewed.
They come up with names right out of the air;
a name that goes well with a girl in orange hair.
And they banter and barter in their magical play
in the faraway places…. they go to each day.
When it’s time to interrupt ‘cause their lunch time is near,
they freeze for a moment, not completely cohere.
Each differently thinking of what they should do
then hand-in-hand dance…. through fairy portal, to you.
And when you address them and call them by name
a mistake you have made and they’re quick to exclaim
they’ve come from far places and rode many twistas
and they’re not Jude and Zoe….they’re the ‘Volcano Sistas.’
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano
Filed under beauty, dolls, dream, fairy, fairy tale, Family, Friends, God, grandchildren, heart, kids, Life, Love, mental health, mind, people, poetry, young girls
“That’s the Way It Is, Son”
“In my class, dad,” the young lad said,
“is a cultural mix of our world….
And each of my classmates is a thoroughbred
on a flag of all nations, unfurled.”
“We all get along,” he continued to say,
“though our differences, at times, may be great.
And yet in the news, the story they portray
is towards each other…. it’s all about hate.”
“That’s been the way,” he said to his son,
“from the beginning of time, as we know;
It’s a story that’s tragic and won’t be outdone
and will simply just be the status quo.”
“You must remember,” said the young man’s dad,
“that every person is a person like you;
some in situations not good… and that is sad
for many ‘friends’ …it’s tough getting through.”
“I use to have a pen pal,” said the boy, “who I met
when the teacher handed out a list of names
we could write to in the world and who I never did forget;
whose fun was getting water while mine was getting games.”
“That’s the way it is, son,” the father said subdued.
“You’ll find so many ways that life’s unfair.
But government’s peoples….are people just like you
who love their families with hearts of love and care.”
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano
We all have a day when the ‘crystals’ come together and we’re triumphant in a quest of some dimension….maybe….running a race or finishing a project or singing a song or achieving a goal or reaching retirement or……..maybe…..graduating from a certain level in life or having a good night doing something…….something like……..bowling. Congrats to you all!
Four Spare Day
From the first ball he rolled, and at the crack of each pin,
you knew something special was about to begin
at the bowling alley this night in the thick of the heat
as he rolled out the strikes….nary missing a beat
rolling….yes, rolling….strike after strike,
keeping his cool….controlling his psyche…
that’s how it went…..that’s what I saw….
but that’s from a father who is biased, they’ll say,
in the time that will pass…. about the story, this day.
Three Cubs and a Yankee is the team that he’s on
a family sort of team – a mix in the throng –
of pretty good bowlers in a handicap league
that fosters competition and a little intrigue
as the weeks carry on….through winter into spring
and the challenge isn’t coming…. but the game that you ‘bring’
and that’s how it went….that’s what I saw
this particular night, it was an eight-fifteen that he rolled
an exhibition of near-excellence; a feat to behold.
Four spares betrayed him and his quest on this day,
of a rare nine-hundred series that barely slipped away
through the cracks on the lanes that guided every ball
and made an ‘almost’ story… still….a story for us all
that held us spellbound frame to frame as we watched him joke around
unfazed by what was happening as the games dwindled down
and like I said, that’s how it went….that’s exactly what I saw…
and all who closely watched…. will concur with what I say
for we all watched the Matthew….triumphant on this day.
© copyright t.j.gargano
Filed under Family, games
Living in the country affords some luxuries, one of which is having lots of bonfires and gatherings of friends and family, around them. Over the years, our gatherings have included games when all the ‘kids’ were young, always guitars and singing, and…always Uncle Steve (‘Big Weave’) entertaining everyone with his numerous jokes and stories fresh from the ‘road.’ He was honored as a ‘Million Mile’ hauler.
‘ Big Weave’
His name is ‘Big Weave’ and his size could deceive in the
shadows of the bonfire at night,
and no one quite knew why the wind always blew ‘round
in circles from left to right.
He always seemed cold whenever he told exciting
stories as the wind blew hard
as he circled the fire without any ire, holding tight
to a stick from the yard.
The shadows he cast in the darkness didn’t last like
the stories remembered by all
of his truck driving days and all of the ways he
managed to answer the call
of driving through rain, over hilly terrain; to the cities
in his big rig, he’d go
and deliver his load then back on the road
to a place that they’d soon let him know.
He stops at a chair…. and…. in a stern stare, lays down
the stick on its side
and continues a tale while he picks up a pail
and empties on the fire, what’s inside.
The flames burst high, sending embers to the sky
with people moving back from the heat
and there’s chuckles in his talk, though he never stops his walk
and together they lose not a beat.
The fires have burned as the years have turned and yet
the gatherings prevail,
and while…. there’s less song, the talk is still long
and the food doesn’t live to be stale.
And the younger ones boast, as their marshmallows roast,
‘bout their dreams and what they believe,
but me, I just wait, like a fish for the bait, for the
bonfire stories from ‘Big Weave.’
The fires will claim, though they won’t be to blame, the
chairs that will empty in time,
And it’s easy to dream about what it will seem like
when years have completed the rhyme.
But they’ve burned for years through smiles and tears
and kept us all warm in the light.
So the hope is they’ll burn…. at every year’s turn
and the memories will flame…. strong and bright.
© 2012 t. j. gargano
I marvel at how something, seemingly, insignificant can, when scrutinized, become ‘visible’ and realized as a necessary part of an equation…in this instance, an ordinary scene outside in the yard.
The repeated scene unknowingly always had a certain set of props, which at first, weren’t realized.
When I sit down to write, whether morning or night,
there are birds there to sing me a song.
The dog’s at my feet; the cat’s found her seat
and together we seem to belong
to the moment we’re in, with a feeling of kin,
as we look towards each other… now and then……
before the birds fly away, the dog goes astray
and the cat goes a-chasing….again.
It’s a comfort we know, we understand it…. and so
being close ‘round each other’s, okay.
Thus you might see the cat, by the dog, laying flat
‘neath the fountain where the birds splash away.
That’s how it goes; what’ll happen, who knows
it’s a mystery that I always get,
whenever I write, whether morning or night,
outside with this ‘character’ set.
© 2012 t. j. gargano