Mom took my brother and
I to the cemetery when
we were kids.
Her mother and grandma
were there underneath the
grass and dirt.
The spring breeze felt
good on my face.
We put carnations and
lilacs on all the graves.
She told us stories about
our dead relatives.
The tombstones, with the
dates seemed ancient and
final.

After flowering all the
graves, we went to
the pond and fed
the ducks and swans.
There was a fire in
their eyes.
They were always
hungry.
They gobbled the bread
and swam in circles.

When we became
teenagers, Mom took
us to the cemetery, and
taught us how to drive.
She said it was
safer there.
We couldn't ****
anyone.

Many years later
I took my little sons to
cemetery.
I showed them all
the graves and told
the old family stories.
"That's your grandma,"  I said,
pointing to the tombstone.
"She brought me here,
when I was your age."

My oldest son, Zach, who was
seven at the time said,
"When I get old,
I'm going to bring my kids
here to visit the family.
Will you come with us, Daddy?"
"Sure", I said.
Let's feed the swans.

I remember when I was a youth
How consoling it was to know
That I had little to worry about.
Ah, but that was long ago.

If, perchance, the roof had a leak,
Dad would be up there in a flash
To find the problem, and once he did,
Off to the hardware store he would dash.

Electrical trouble? He had it down.
Plumbing issues? No problem at all.
He examined the situations,
Addressing the problems large and small.

If my mom wanted a door
Moved from one wall to another,
My dad got out the sledgehammer.
Anything to please my mother.

Carpentry was not his thing.
That is where he came up short.
Intellectual creativity
Was his passion, his love, his forte.

My mom was super organized
And ready for any circumstance.
She handled the bills, managed the home,
And planned our meals weeks in advance.

Multi-talented she was!
She cooked and baked, knocked down fences,
Gardened, and kept us kids in line.
Discipline meant consequences.

She even managed to work for a store
As a bookkeeper. We always knew
That everything was under control,
Though we were far from well-to-do.

Of course, we kids we given chores,
Which we begrudgingly did, of course.
However, the way my folks made us feel
Safe and secure was a tour de force.

Life is very different now.
There's no way that I can repair
Leaky roofs, wiring, or plumbing.
I couldn't even on a dare.

I know how to call an electrician,
Plumber, roofer--anyone
To handle concerns at which I'm inept.
I want repairs correctly done.

But every so often I catch myself
Being at peace in my childhood room,
Thinking that all was well with the world
And having no thoughts of doom or gloom.

Young and naïve, all I knew
Was my little world, safe and secure.
Threats to that tranquility
Were imperceptible, obscure.

Little did I know at the time
That life for others wasn't so sweet,
That some lacked food and shelter and had
Difficulty making ends meet,

That some were caught in the middle of clashing
Armies, that innocent people were dying,
That people struggled for rights and freedom,
That life for some was horrifying.

Naïveté and complacency--
As comfortable as they might seem--
Can insulate us from world problems
As though we're living in a dream,

One from which we must awaken.
And when we do, we have to decide
Whether we'll work to better the world
Or stay in our comfy cocoon and hide.

-by Bob B (5-19-24)

so many once here
have now disappeared
long gone into the white

rambled and veered
on to paths unclear
faded from all sight

their bark was their bite
but this dark toothless blight
has quickly 'come revered

so we write
that we might be a light tonight
in lieu of the disappeared

It's the burst lip
slowly healed with tongues
softly
aching
warm as the sun

It's the grinning tooth
making incisions
sharp
through the heart
of its chosen victim

It's the once empty mouth
compelled to devour
the words in-between
the speaking in vowels

It's the voice that calls
before it's too late
the one
you always tell to wait

By his side, the devout chant God's glory
in a life so brittle and fragile
yet not lacking in strength to navigate
on the river of chaotic turbulence.

Some are tearlessly silent,
a few are about to embrace a cry
and there is one whose wails
reverberate and pound the walls.

The ascent to the greater kingdom
is adorned with white lotus
and incense that smell of heaven.

Filled with the finality
there is no point denying,
the atheist sleeps on peacefully.

In the background playing at the cafe
Drums beat ever so slightly
There is a faint, hypnotic rhythm
It is both entrancing and calming

In the background playing at the cafe
Drums beat ever so slightly
They draw me into memories

My heart starts to slow
Matching the beat
My imagination wanders

In the background at the cafe
Drums beat ever so slightly
Like a meditative dance

In distant Boldmere, where dreams do dwell,
There reigns a sprite named Tinkerbell.
Not just a fairy, small and spry,
But mischief’s princess, soaring high.

Her wings agleam with dust so fine,
She flits and flies, a spark divine.
With twinkling eyes and laughter bright,
She weaves her tricks from day to night.

She’ll swap the pirates’ maps for fun,
And lead them on a frantic run.
She’ll tangle mermaids’ flowing hair,
And leave them floundering in despair.

The Lost Boys’ games she’ll twist and bend,
Just to watch their tempers end.
She’ll hide the things they need the most,
Then giggle from her secret post.

Yet, despite her impish play,
Her heart is pure, a guiding ray.
For her brother , she’ll always care,
A loyal friend through all they dare.

So here’s to Tink, the sprite so grand,
The Princess of Mischief in Neverland.
With every flutter, every spell,
Long live the reign of Tinkerbell!

You are on the battlefield
Killing another human being
Do you know him?
Throwing bombs and firing missiles.
Killing innocent children.
Innocent just like yours.
Don’t you have children in your family?
Do you feel good doing this, satisfied?
To be the cause of so much pain and sadness.
Look at each other on the battlefield.
You two are the same.
Killing for peace.
You won’t die a hero.
There are no winners in war, only losers.



Shell ✨🐚