Love’s Provision

 

Love’s  Provision

 

Across the road, the grass, just mowed,
surrendered to the snow.
And the silver plane looked cold, in pain,
as the wind began to blow.

And though not deep, the snow did heap
as it collected around each wheel;
wings were fluttering and birds were shuttering,
not happy with the new winter’s deal.

But the little plane provided, for the birds that had glided,
down to feed in the grass underneath,
a refuge from the cold and the wind’s strong hold,
that the winter, to them, did bequeath.

The reminder is subtle and subject to rebuttal,
but at times when we’re all feeling down,
it still is the case, others ‘down’ need embrace
and love…. when smiles turn to frown.

When hard times press, we have to address
the winds that batter and blow
and try to compile, at our feet, every smile
and keep them there…. stealing our glow.

But just like the plane, our warmth will refrain
from letting the cold get inside.
And others will bask in the strength of our task
and the warmth of our love…. will provide.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Spirit Show

Spirit Show

 

Despite all the tragedy that appears in the news,
it’s the spirit of life we must guard
as we face all our loved ones and help with their lives,
who we hold close with highest regard.

For we can’t be beaten or appear in their eyes
to have withered and succumbed to a fate
but bestow in them faith to find guidance from God
for all life’s travails that await.

We must try as we step to have warmth in our heart
as we battle the dangers, all around,
and show them no fear as we live through each day
as we keep them from beating us down.

We can’t win all battles…. that happen our way
but for the battles we win we can show
how our positive thinking gave a lift to our hearts
and to the face of our spirit…. a glow.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Mornings After Harvest

After months without a view because of the beautiful, tall cornfields, the distant horizon can be a mesmerizing sight, filled with the smells and sounds of a different, yet familiar, place.

Looking east from where I live, the lagging warm temperatures of day create a hazy, foggy pastoral scene,  of a morning,  across the recently harvested cornfields  and it is a blessing in magnitude hearing the geese feeding frantically and invisibly until the fog lifts.  Then when the sun begins its rise, the shadowy glimpses of distant objects on the horizon command your every instinct as you look, listen and smell the uniquely, coming day.

You are alive and you have taken the time to notice it!  Have a great day and try not to take it for granted…..look, listen and smell of it….for you are blessed to be alive!

Mornings After Harvest

Across the trampled field of corn, filled with geese in the early morn’,
  the distant horizon peeks beneath the fog
that partially hides the distant train headed north in a misty rain
  as my ears pick up the howl of a farmer’s dog
chasing geese along the fence, in and out of a fog, so dense,
  the geese themselves don’t know which way to go.
And all you hear are gaggle screams, like those heard…. in nightmarish dreams,
  as a lifting fog exposes the new day’s glow.

That’s how it is each country morn’, looking east where once was corn,
  across the fields now flattened for the plow
that soon will turn the stubble down exposing all the black and brown
  after feeding every deer and bird and cow
that lurk and wait for harvest day so they can romp and eat and play
  before the winter winds begin to blow
and life again is cold and harsh; birds all dreaming of the southern marsh,
  and the rest of us await the coming snow.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Supposedly

For those of you who follow me avidly in my email, I have finally returned home from my trip to Colorado, where I had an enjoyable time in the mountains and with family and cousins.  Hope all has been good with you.

 

Supposedly

 

Supposedly, the world is such
that what we sense is real
but struggle to confirm what we can’t touch,
though there’s a ‘presence’  we can feel.
These things unseen all factor in
and influence us every day
which is why…. involuntarily
we sometimes lose our way.

But has this always been the case
in all of life….before?
In centuries past with slower pace
was the ‘presence’ less or more?
Was it there at all to help life move
on structured whims of chance
or down a road toward distant gate,
it positioned in advance?

There is a journey all will take
like a nightly trip to bed
and what we know, we will forsake
and go to dream….instead
and know the ‘presence’ that we’ve felt
that’s led us through the strife
and shared the moments that guided us
on destined road of life…..

supposedly.

 

© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Words That Others Need

Sharing is a great concept in the socialization process in not only our culture but across cultures. Today with the advancement of technology in the field of communication, the world has, indeed, grown a little smaller,  in that sharing can be done directly with peoples from all over the world. What a wonderful thing and, eventually, maybe a viable avenue to world peace as we can visualize it.

When we write, it is my belief that someone, somewhere, reads what you write and one word, or thought, can make someone’s day…..and hopefully inspire and invoke them to ‘write their words’ so someone, in turn, can hear them and be inspired to ‘move’ too.

Write your heart!    Have a great day!

 

Words That Others Need

 

What is it that I think, I know
that I could help today;
that I could write and make you grow
and chase your blues away?
Who is it that I think, I am,
that I could give you love
and add some meaning to your life
you wouldn’t tire of?

This feeling is….that all of us
have words that others need.
That must be said and maybe, thus,
we’ll read them and succeed.
And they will make us understand
and clear our minds to see
impediments that impede our way,
we allowed by their decree.

So write your words so all can hear;
so ailing hearts can find.
And someone’s pain will disappear
because you were so kind.
You are unique by who you are
in what you write and say
and never doubt when reaching out
you’ve  helped someone….today.

© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Rhythmic Senses

Rhythmic Senses

 

You always see her in a crowd
blending like a graveled stone
at farthest table the room’s allowed
where she sits and gazes….all alone
in stares transfixed by muted thoughts
that have strained her every will
and she appears as frozen…. in a trance-like state
her fragile look….is still.

She’s not with friends nor is she without,
but she ‘appears’ to us as one
abandoned, lost,  leaving much in doubt,
and you wonder the thoughts, she’s spun.
But appearance is often a misleading clue
and by the face, it’s hard to tell
if she’s deep in thought about something good
or about something gone to……well….

You see the pattern that’s often seen
if left to the imagination,
looking at an Amy, Rosita or Charlene
or any in the same situation?
A telltale story our minds devise
to help us pass…. our time
and the dreams we create in the interlude
serve as  rhythms in our life’s….rhyme.

© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

Forgive and Live

Forgive and Live

 

Stillness looms across the field.
The moon, not full, is bright
Silhouetted trees do yield
the pleasantness of night.
In quietness, the beauty’s shone
as a tear slips from the eye
and you drift into dream…. ‘neath the sky.

Awakened to the sound on distant track
the northbound’s coming through.
the moving lights mean she is back
and all is right and true.
Missing her has meant a lot
it’s time to tell her so
It’s time to live the only life, you know.

It’s time to do what must be done.
It’s time to love….and live
It’s time to start the distant run
stop judging and forgive
For time is fleeting; that’s for sure
so hug her tight each day
and chase the constant, nagging blues….away.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

When the Senses Start to Wane

When the Senses Start to Wane

When the days were long; when the years were short,
when the blood would try to rise
there’d be ideas in the mind…. to sort
when the days were long; when the years were short.
Things to accomplish; things to report
to show you ‘had it’…. in their eyes
when the days were long; when the years were short
when the blood would try to rise.

When the final autumn years arrive
and the senses start to wane
the change in mode is now survive
when the final autumn years arrive.
And when nature’s onslaught is….to deprive
you must meet ‘her’ head-on…. and restrain
when the final autumn years arrive
and the senses start to wane.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

Assume

Sometimes the things we hold the dearest, we endanger by our ‘taking for granted’ or ‘assuming.’  Our love relationships might be  the most vulnerable of these things.

 

Assume

 

It’s something that we all have done.
It’s something we just do
when times are serious or having fun
and it’s done without a clue.
And it’s not because the thing we think
is something that we know
but usually because the ‘know,’ we think,
hides without a show.

And when it’s love, we think, is sure,
we sometimes falter more
not seeing it slip into a blur
only seeing it as before
So take not for granted that precious love
and guard it from its doom
Keep love fresh and full of life
and nevermore….assume.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

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.

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