Category Archives: Friends

The Always Listener

If we could impart feelings to someone who didn’t talk, but merely listened….to our venting….not to help rid ourselves of them for they are an integral, recurring issue in our lives….but just listen to them….always being there,  I suppose  that would be living in a perfect world cause people require attention.

Oh well, I thought it was a good notion.   Have a great day!

The Always Listener

If only you could be my friend
and talk to me each day,
and speak of things that clog your mind
the black, the white….the gray
in all those areas you usually fear
trapped deep within your heart
that cling and fester day to day
and hide down in the dark….

part of your soul that needs a voice
to give your heart a rest
and share with ease a piece of mind
and get it off your chest
yet fear not being harassed or judged
for thinking as you do
about what is normal in this life
according to your view.

That is what a friend can be
someone who listens for
a rant, a whine, a wish or groan
and be your swinging door
and hold you close and feel the warmth
in feelings of soul to soul….
the always listener who’s standing by
and keeps you in control.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Leave a comment

Filed under Friends, humanity

Last Call for Love

When I was called to war, it was before a love entanglement and I am thankful for that.  But leaving love and loved ones behind has always been a sorrowful aspect of soldiers going off to serve their country.  Whereas, many situations are adjusted to, many a soldier leaves for war unsettled in his predicament, especially when it is about unrequited love.

Last Call for Love

 

Call me if you want; tell me if you can.
You ought to know for sure by now, the kind of man, I am.
I won’t get flippant and lose control or try to make you cry
or make you do things you don’t like…. or even make you try.
Call me if you want; tell me how you are.
Tell me how your day has been ‘cause you’re the most by far
I truly miss from all the things…. I like in every way
that I would like close by my side, each and every day.

Call me if you want; I need to see you now.
We can’t afford to be apart; time will not allow
for us to try and figure out a plan to see us through
for much has passed before our eyes; we 
didn’t have a clue.
Call me if you want but my train is leaving soon.
I need to hold you in my arms beneath the silver moon
that casts a chilling, telling spell…. from where it sits above.
Come and hold me in this spell….ain’t it time to bind this love?

I wish, at least, you would have come to give me one last look
to see your smile in every face that pops up in this book
that I must read to calm me down…. headed back to war
for I’ll ‘live’ that wishful vision; you in the station door.
I’d rather you wouldn’t call me now; it’s time for me to heal
I know I won’t forget you ‘cause my memories all have ‘feel.’
But if it be I don’t come back, you’ll always know my love.
Sorry it was so hard on you; keep faith in God, above.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Leave a comment

Filed under Blogging, Friends, heart, Love, mind, war

The ‘Volcano Sistas’

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.

IMG_6505-M

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.

2grls

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

Leave a comment

Filed under beauty, dolls, dream, fairy, fairy tale, Family, Friends, God, grandchildren, heart, kids, Life, Love, mental health, mind, people, poetry, young girls

“No Bed, Grandpa”

Visiting at my daughter’s home in Denver recently, tensions always rose each night when the time for the twins’ bedtime approached.

And although they seem to be starting to adjust to their ‘plight’ each night, one or the other still seems to ‘fight’ going to bed, in her own way.

Grabbing a blanket and holding close to a chair, a strong defense of crying is applied in rhythmic surges toward the rule ‘enforcers’…. in hopes of weakening their demands….and of course, to no avail.  In the end, though, they both got serenaded to sleep by grandpa.

 

“No Bed, Grandpa”

In stare through moistened, reddened eyes
having wiped away her tears,
she sends her ‘arrows’ in disguise
in stare through moistened, reddened eyes.
They pierce the heart not by surprise
with sweetened vengeance that coheres
in stare through moistened, reddened eyes
having wiped away her tears.

Holding her blanket against her cheek
leaning against the chair,
she glares defiantly; her eyes bespeak.
holding her blanket against her cheek.
My heart is wavering in heightened beat,
still captured by her stare
holding her blanket against her cheek
leaning against the chair.

Saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart,
I let my ‘arrows’ fly,
whose sting doth make my love impart
saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart.
“No bed, grandpa,” is the difficult part
in the tears of a four year old’s cry….
saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart,
I let my ‘arrows’ fly.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

2 Comments

Filed under beauty, Friends, heart, kids, Life, Love, poetry, triolets, young girls

“That’s the Way It Is, Son”

“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

Leave a comment

Filed under Family, Friends, kids, poetry

Prairie Flyer – Part II

Prairie Flyer –  Part II

Then as I turned toward the counter’s bar,
the pilot started down and I noticed the star
on the scarf that the wind had placed on the wing
and getting it….the pilot was trying everything
but the wind, it seemed, was winning.

Then what I saw was hard to believe
as she stepped from the cockpit and tugged at her sleeve
taking off her cap….her hair falling down….
in long strands of blond, nearly touching the ground….
the white scarf flew wildly to her hands.

Gripped tight by pause, my eyes fixed in fear,
I awaken from my stupor from the feel of cold beer
that’s spilled on my hands as I head for my seat
at the counter in the back of the room…. where the heat
will feel good when she comes through the door.

I look towards where Harley is tending his beans,
stirring them vigorously…. some reaching his jeans….
the stove plates glowing brightly in oranges and red
as the wind wails and whistles at the smell of fresh bread
then it’s gone… the door opens….”Hi, guys.”

(to be continued….Part III)

Leave a comment

Filed under airplanes, beauty, beer, freedom, Friends, Life, Love, prairie, prairie flyer, prairie hawk

Prairie Flyer – Part I

Prairie Flyer – Part I

I saw it below, through the clouds, on the ground;
a speck in the dust, it was kicking around
making its way towards the hangar at the end
of the airstrip of dirt where soon I’d descend;
my trip back home…. nearly done.

I took off from Galesburg in a bright morning sun
in a brisk wind that rattled the old Gatling gun
for I’d flown out east…. to buy it for a friend
who wanted it for the museum…. and those who attend,
for an exhibit how air battles were won.

The yellow two-winger was just sitting there
as my wheels touched down in the brisk Kansas air.
It’s an obscure little stop for fuel and some rest
and not known by many….maybe a barnstormer, at best;
but I had stopped here….before.

But I didn’t know the plane sitting bright against the sky
and probably not the pilot, who I just taxied by,
as I headed for the ‘shack’ for some coffee and some fuel
and a chat with the Kansan….  Harley P.  O’Toole
and I yelled at him, “Hey, sunflower!” entering the door.

“Who’s flying the yellow bird sitting on the tarp?
I queried of Harley, who’s, when sleepy, not sharp.
But who is, I’m thinking, as I take off my coat
“Just landed,” he said, pulling hard on the rope
the Billy goat not wanting to go out.

“How you been, Jake?” he said with a hug.
“It’s been quite a spell,” as he gave me a mug….
the beer not as cold as I thought it would be
as I went to the window to see what I’d see
the pilot still sitting in his seat.

The ‘hangar’ was all ol’ Harley ever had
a one-floor oasis, a gift from his dad,
who was famous in these parts – a barnstormer’s friend,
and they all showed up to honor him….at the final end
and ever since, Harley’s picked up the beat.

Three hundred miles from Kansas City’s lights
the hangar was like home when dropping from the heights
And the stories of Harley were true…. that made his legend grow
and brought in flyers from all the states…. just like a minstrel show
but the bi-plane on the tarp, he didn’t know.

(to be continued….Part II)

Leave a comment

Filed under airplanes, Friends, Life, people, prairie, prairie flyer

‘Big Weave’

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

Leave a comment

Filed under Big, Blogging, countryside, Family, Friends, goodbyes, highways

‘Character’ Set

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.

 

 

 

‘Character’ Set

 

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

Leave a comment

Filed under animals, Blogging, crafts, Family, Friends, Love, poetry

A Pool Boy’s Pride

Like many a young  American boy, I learned how to play pool at an early age and by the time I entered the Army, I was fairly proficient at the game.

A few years later when I got married, almost every week I was invited to play with the ‘old’ guys, who included my father-in-law, and two of his brother-in-laws, one of which was Uncle Leonard, and it was his house where we played.

While the wives did what wives do, upstairs, the men played in the basement, hitting these colored balls all around this table in a room filled with smoke and wild stories of the ‘old’ days….that meaning the ’30s and ’40s.

The sharpshooter was Uncle Leonard, and with the stories, too.  All three were heavy smokers and I just breathed it in.  But they all three could talk and shoot and at a masterful level and I was….well…..proficient.  But they all, willingly, taught me the ‘finer’ points of the game for which I have forever been grateful.

Whenever we had three players, we played 15 ball rotation and played ‘pea pool’.  That’s a game where you draw two numbers from a flask of 15 and choose one to ‘break’ on and one to hold and try to sink that numbered ball before anyone else did.  Money was always involved.  Whenever we had four players, the game was 9-ball with money on the 5 and 9.

I paid for years but that was okay…..by the time I could beat them regularly, because they were getting feeble, it wasn’t any fun.  I never had any fun beating the masters unfairly.

I received a great education from my elders and they treated me with much respect.  God Bless them.

This poem honors….Uncle Leonard.

A Pool Boy’s Pride

Hello 4-ball, why don’t you drop down.
Hello 4-ball, you’ve been messin’ around with me.
I can’t shoot the ‘five’ if you’re still alive
but I can make the ‘one, two, three’  so come on
‘four’ ball, drop in a hole for me.

Did I ever tell you ’bout my Uncle Leonard?
He’s the best that you will probably ever see.
He can shoot the ‘five’ into the ‘nine’ and bank it off the side
but in the corner he’ll make the ‘three.’
He can shoot the ‘ten’ two times across and drop it in the side,
he can keep the ‘cue’  from going far or send it for a ride
Uncle Leonard…… he’s a Pool Boy’s Pride.

Did I ever tell you ’bout my Uncle Leonard?
He’s the best that’s why you’ll probably think he’s great.
He can shoot the ‘six’ into the ‘ten’ and bring it back across
but in the corner he’ll make the ‘eight.’
He can shoot the ‘two’ into the ‘three’ and billiard in the side,
he can blindly drop the ‘four’ and ‘six’ before you’ve even tried
Uncle Leonard….he’s a Pool Boy’s Pride.

Did I ever tell you ’bout my Uncle Leonard?
He’s the best you’ll probably ever see alive.
He can bank the ‘six’ across the way or run it rail to rail
but in the corner he’ll make the ‘five.’
He can shoot the ‘ten’ into the ‘twelve,’  ‘eleven’ in the side and
when he’s done he knows just how to make the ‘cue’ ball hide
Uncle Leonard…..he’s a Pool Boy’s Pride.

Hello 4-ball, why don’t you drop down.
Hello 4-ball, you’ve been messin’ around with me.
I can’t shoot the ‘five’ if you’re still alive
but I can make the ‘one, two, three’  so come on
‘four’ ball, drop in a hole for me.

copyright © 2012 T.J. Gargano

1 Comment

Filed under Family, Friends, games, people