Category Archives: poetry

Bus from the Past

In a posting on January 04, 2012, in my poem “The Kid’s Yellow Bus,”  I reminisce about the years when our two girls rode a yellow school bus twelve miles to their country school,   our son, who was born twelve years after the birth of our last daughter, stood and watched them go and come everyday.   Years later, the threesome rode the bus together briefly.

The fact that the bus still passes by the house brings back those memories which I refer to in this poem.   Life gets up and gets going for all of us and this is just one of those remembrances in the wife’s and my heart.  Thanks for dropping by.

 

Bus from the Past

 

It comes from the south every morning at six
screeching as it slows in the leaves and the sticks
that cover the road from the fall’s brisk winds.
And with front beams on high and its red lights aglow
through the fog the bus hustles to the stop sign below….

at the bottom of the hill where it meets the east road,
though it turns to the left and west with its load –
youngsters all asleep on their long ride to school,
still immune to the revving of the school bus’s whine
and the innumerable stops that it makes ‘on a dime.’

There once was a day when the bus stopped here
and picked up the kids and all of their gear
and hauled them away to that ‘place’ for a while
where they studied and played and spent the whole day
and learned what to do that would take them away.

And it came to a point that it was just a routine
and we took it for granted like the sounds of the scream
we heard down the road in the darkness each morn’
and listened for the screeching as it came to a stop
as we hurried the kids out through the screen door’s  plop!

After all of these years, we still hear the ‘screech’
on its approach from the south in the dark and the reach
of the early morn’s silence as we ready the day.
And pausing, momentarily, we listen for the past
the stop and screen door’s plop…. knowing blessed…. at last.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

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Filed under kids, Love, poetry, Yellow Bus, young girls

Change

What we do is indifferent to time.   Have a great day!

 

Change

 

Change is happening; its style is not static.
It can’t be bound; it’s usually problematic.
You can keep it at bay…. only for a while.
Adjustments are needed that you’ll have to compile
that’ll help you adapt and survive.

Its disguises are many; some hard to detect.
Oft times it may come…. at a time you expect.
But it’s often sneaky and you’re caught unaware
and you wonder how it happened that you 
didn’t prepare
and you turn to your senses to revive.

Change is constant; always present in life.
It will come to your body, to your car, to your wife.
It will come to your thinking or the size of your pants
you’ll see it in your uncles and grandmas and aunts
as each coming year passes by.

There’s nothing to do to keep it away.
Some adjustments might help to keep it at bay.
But time will march on with change at its side
so look for adjustments to ease up the ride
and lay back and smile at the sky.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

 

 

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Filed under Blogging, change, destiny, poetry, spirit

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

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Filed under Blogging, God, Life, Love, mental health, mind, poetry, spirit, Strength

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

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Filed under bloggers, Blogging, countryside, Fall, fog, God, heart, Life, Love, mental health, mood, Nature, poetry, prairie, snow

Mayday! in September

(a Sattler photo)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mayday! in September

The morning was beautiful… nary a cloud in the sky.
The whole of Manhattan was a gift to the eye.
The smell of the air was fresh to the nose
A good day to live, like a good day goes
that makes you excited about life.
Early morning shoppers were swamping Times Square
while tourists in the ‘park’ were paying their fare
for a boat ride that would take them in the river, somewhere,
and the buzzing of excitement was rife.

In Boston, Flight 11 was late in taking off
and flight attendant Betty…. was fighting with her cough,
as she rushed to get the passengers safely buckled in
for the long trip to Los Angeles where many were seeing kin
and were far too excited…..to want to settle down.
Flight 175…. was leaving Boston right on time
headed for Los Angeles and now in rapid climb
and Lee thought what he’d tell his Dad when landing on a ‘dime’
later in Los Angeles, his other favorite town.

New York’s World Trade towers – on this morning – glistened bright
and like two shining swords, they reflected what was right
in a world that, now seemed, tentative…. faltering at its core
as terrorists threats were rising….and difficult to ignore
as they captivated headlines all the time.
And on this day, as usual, hundreds came to work…. near late
scurrying with their lattes, their bagels and their fate
on elevators that took them high…. where dream jobs did await
and where the views on high…. were sublime.

(a Scott Demel photo)

They were probably in the bathroom, or cafeteria or work space
or already at their computer…. when it slammed the north face
and shuddered the world…. of the dead and the living
and threatened all souls….especially those, forgiving –
who now seemed revengeful in their need.
When chaos enters and subdues the light
and evil commands everything in sight
you question where to turn…. to find what’s right
in your search for what to heed.

 

While watching those clinging in the burning North Tower,
175 slams the south face…. of the nearby South Tower
and with the dimension of terror…. now doubled by degree
a war zone scene emerges…. that no one could foresee
earlier that morning on the eleventh of September.
At 9:58 the South Tower collapsed….in view for the world to see
at 10:28 the North Tower collapsed, adding heaps of hot debris.
as the enemy rejoiced around the world in victory…. by decree
in cold, raised gun defiance…. we all watched on tv.

If there’s a lesson we all must learn, it must be that our life
can be snuffed out at a second’s notice…. in this world of strife,
because it’s obvious,  we can’t agree or share what we believe
as if we come from different worlds…. in what we all perceive
creating this world that threatens all our lives.
So as we try to raise our children in a world that’s safe to all;
teach them all the good things and how to stand up tall
yet have respect for all beliefs and help each when they fall
maybe there’s a real chance their ‘real’ world…. survives.

copyright 2012  t.  j.  gargano

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Filed under Blogging, poetry, World Trade Center

Another Day

Have you ever found yourself wanting to write something and the blahs seem indifferent to the idea?  Hence, you can not connect with any mood to help you write something…..and….you have a time slot to do it…..even?

Well….guess what?  It’s another day….and it’s acting like it.   lol   This is what my ‘blankity, blankity,’ mind came up with…..lol

Hope your unique day is filling.

 

 

Another Day

 

When first you rise and eyes are blurred
with hair that’s all a mess,
and sounds are muted in every word,
when first you rise and eyes are blurred.
And getting up you feel absurd
stumbling as you dress
when first you rise and eyes are blurred
with hair that’s all a mess.

Today is just another day
that’s relinquished in the end,
so why’s the body in such a fray
today is just another day
that’ll start up in the normal way
and you’ll follow like a friend.
Today is just another day
that’s relinquished in the end.

That it’s completely different from
all the other days,
it plays a ‘tune’ that’s hard to hum,
that it’s completely different from.
And being unique from whence it come,
its ‘print’ will show the ways
that it’s completely different from
all the other days.

© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

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Filed under mental block, mind, mood, poetry, triolets, Words

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

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Filed under Blogging, dreams, heart, Life, poetry, road