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The theme for this poem came about after watching an episode of America’s Got Talent, believe it or not. There were several magic acts auditioning for the finals, one involving a rabbit. It got me to thinking  about the magic and rabbits in our own lives….

Illusions

After the last rabbit is pulled from the hat,

The magic ends.

What is left is the reality of our lives,

From which we have been momentarily distracted;

We were caught up in the illusion

Of what we thought might have been real –

The one true love of our life!

Childhood is full of illusions and fairy tales,

MOST of which we come to realize are just that,

And so it is well into adolescence,

When we experience that first real crush,

Which awes, amazes and enthralls us.

Time passes; the memories fade.

New people come into our lives

As we began our journey through adulthood –

We search again for that one special person,

With whom to spend the rest of our lives –

Awed, amazed and enthralled when we find them.

Eventually, disillusionment again,

Leaving us unfulfilled – jaded –

By the whole experience.

The only thing left to do?

Dust off the old top hat –

Look for another rabbit!

Rediscover the magic.

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This must have been “one of those days” when everything seemed to be going wrong…a perfect day to stay in bed with my security blanket. As often happens, the mood passes and I am once again able to “Knit One Purl Two”…LOL.

Unraveling

If one were to believe the words of Shakespeare,

Sleep knits the raveled sleeve of care.

As happens more than not however,

Sleep provides a temporary solace

From those cares.

The more complex cares

Often return upon waking,

Or filter into our dreams,

Ever present in the reality of the following day,

Or weeks or  months or years.

Some would assert that sleep

Is a return to the darkness from which we were born,

A necessity for wakening to the light of a new day,

As happens more often that not, however;

Some will find the need to go deeper into the darkness

From which they will never see the light –

Unraveling into depression.

The next poem came to me while watching so many people in the park glued to their cellphones, Ipods and Ipads, etc. and I recalled the old advertisement about “reaching out and touching someone”….

Social Communication

 

Whereas social communication used to require

Face to face encounters,

The rise and growth of the Internet –

Facebook, Google Chat, Blogger, etc.

Made way for worldwide social communication –

Face to face is still possible via SKYPE,

But we no longer need to be in the same room,

Or even the same country!

Social interaction suffers to some degree

When a computer becomes the exclusive interface

With the outer world – reality.

As society rears a generation of computer nerds

Who confine themselves to their rooms

Or tether themselves to I-pads or I-phones

Never actually feeling human touch.

Parents in the fifties were concerned –

Children were glued to television sets –

Sesame Street was an onscreen babysitter.

Parents in the new Millennium

Experience similar concerns about their children’s’ use

Of computers, cell phones, I-pads and I-phones.

There are APPS for thousands of uses –

What is sorely missing is a hands-on APP

For reaching out and touching.

We have lost a couple of fairly close friends this year which got me to pondering.  These poems were sent to me to transcribe and share with all of you…

 Bawaajige nagwaagan

Whatever becomes of childhood dreams?

Do they continue to live in our subconscious,

Waiting to be realized

At a future point in time

When they are achievable?

Do some dreams die?

Or is it our reality

Which causes us to realize

That they were never attainable –

Beyond our grasp –

Out of reach,

Forever.

Our minds are ‘dream catchers’ –

Bawaajige nagwaagan in Ojibwe,

Storehouses of dreams,

Waiting to be fulfilled

At the right age,

The right time…the right moment,

And, hopefully,

Before we are too old

To act upon them,

And bathe in their achievement.

Dreams Unfulfilled

Difficult as it is to imagine,

Every living person in this world

Must once have had some dreams

Of their future –

No matter what their station in life,

Despite the conditions of their environment –

Rich or poor – we all have dreams.

For some, their dreams become goals –

Fame, fortune, family.

For others – to make a difference –

Leaving their mark for future generations,

Who will undoubtedly have their own dreams.

As for the ‘aging’ population –

‘Baby boomers’ –

Dreams sometimes fade away;

What once we thought were possibilities,

Never materialized and/or

Were not what we envisioned,

Or were beyond our grasp.

Sadly there are many in the world,

Whose journeys ended prematurely,

Extinguishing their dreams –

In this lifetime,

Dreams unfulfilled.

This poem was inspired as a result of a conversation at a gathering of expats one sunny Sunday afternoon while we sat by the beach contemplating our life now. One of our American friends commented that all of us together here were more like cousins. When we get together we have a great time, enjoying great food and conversation. At the end of the day we all head our separate ways until the next time. We all know we are there for each other when needed, but we don’t have to see one another everyday or every week. And thus was created “Primos Hermanos”….

Primos Hermanos (First Cousins)

It was Robert Heinlein

Who wrote “Stranger in a Strange Land”.

But, for the most part,

We live out our lives

Meeting strangers in our own lands –

Our own countries more often than not.

The fortunate ones are those who travel to strange lands

At some point in their lives,

Meeting new people, exploring other cultures,

Learning a new language,

But, for the most part,

Returning home to the “knowingness

Of familiar friends and families.

Emigrants are a unique group,

Choosing, for a variety of reasons

To uproot themselves –

Distancing themselves from old friends and families,

To move to a new country,

Meeting new people, exploring new cultures,

Learning a new language –

Forging new communities within communities –

Expatriates.

 

As time passes,

They create new lives for themselves,

But, for the most part,

Never letting go of those in their new community

Who share nationalities, cultures, languages, etc.

Common ties.

Surrounded by these new friends,

Some become more like first cousins –

Primos hermanos” in Spanish,

Coming together in a celebration of life.

And, for the most part –

Always there for each other in times of need,

Emotionally and spiritually supportive.

“Strangers in a strange land.”

We are blessed by them on our various journeys!

Back in 2011, I decided that I needed to try to connect with other men and compare their journeys to mine. I wanted to know where the similarities might be. Since I have been blogging for some time, I decided to start a special blog, inviting other gay men whom I knew to share their experiences with  the group… Call it therapy, whatever, I felt there was a need out there for this. In setting up the new blog I was forced to reflect on how my life had started and in contemplating it, this poem was given to me by my Spirit.

Shattered

 

The young boy stood

In the middle of the cornfield,

Gentle winds rustling the drying leaves.

As darkness fell –

Overhead a brilliantly clear, fall nighttime sky,

Ablaze with a myriad of stars.

One star in particular caught his eye –

Through his streaming tears,

The North Star – “Polaris”.

As he focused on it

His mind wondered

What would become of him –

Now fatherless?

His mind played over and over a favorite tune,

“When you walk through a storm,

Keep your head up high…

You’ll never walk alone.”

But here he was! ALONE.

What could he possibly have done

To prevent his father’s unexpected departure?

Perhaps it would be temporary.

Things would work out.

Life would return to ‘normal’.

It was not to be…

His childhood ended on that fall night.

His innocence was forever lost.

His ability to ever trust anyone,

Other than himself,

Was forever –

Shattered.