Fighting Lady

Powered by under-belly wheels
State-of-the-art motorized assault battleship
She was Remco’s new Fighting Lady

Christmas 1960
I wanted her more than anything
First saw her, Saturday morning TV
Most beautiful woman I had ever seen

Complete with gun-tracking system
rotating pom poms
ash can depth charges
functional plane catapult, and a landing boat

Vividly imagined myself on her bridge
giving commands
steering her
through dangerous Japanese-infested waters

Her two-tone gray body
complete with U.S. Navy insignias
gave me goose bumps
as only a beautiful woman can do

Longed to possess her
Fill my out-of-control boyhood urge for control
Prayed Mom and Dad would approve
of my Christmas marriage to her

To my delight they did
Come Christmas Day, there she was
in her tan and red box, with a red bow
waiting for me under the Christmas tree

Eventually, other women caught my eye
but at nine, she was most special
To this day I wonder
whatever became of my Fighting Lady

Happy Birthday Mary

Fifty-seven years ago
Under three feet of snow
You entered this beautiful world
While wind-blown snowflakes swirled

Mom and Dad so happy, you were a girl
On your forehead, a pretty golden curl
Eyes of blue, cheeks so rosy
Fast alseep with Mom, oh so cozy

Not long before, you were walking
And just as fast, you were talking
Dolls and girly things you loved
Such a little lady indeed, my beloved

Dad, a fireman, was your hero
Fighting fires, thank goodness no Ground Zero
Mom, your daily keeper
Glad she was, you were a good sleeper

In no time flat, you were off to school
Always you observed, the Golden Rule
You grew so fast, and oh so pretty
I wish I knew you then, my what a pity

Always goals, you had in mind
Things to do, new places to find
You loved to smile, laugh and play
Hard you worked everyday

Through school you flew, then off to college
There you gained much new knowledge
A heart of gold, you always had
Just like Ken, your good ole Dad

By some miracle, we found each other
So happy we’ve been, one and another
I count you as my lucky star
Your eyes they twinkle, from afar

Today we celebrate your birth
With rubies, diamonds and some mirth
On this day, we honor you
With this birthday, your life renews

Our Timeless Souls

Beginning of time–
a starting place for the clock
but not for you, or me
Too often, the clock
married to time, enslaves us
locking us into one dimension
missing all others

Too often, we lose track
of all that exists outside time
Like the soul, which is timeless
knowing nothing of minutes, hours
days, months and years
To the soul, a minute is a year
and a year but a minute

It’s easy to mistake
what beckons us deeply
for the clock’s ticking
and time’s insistent prodding
It’s easy to forget
time reaches only so far
and the soul so much farther

Seeing the Real Me

Sometimes I wish
I could see myself differently–
as I really am
Free of all illusion
expectation, and
most of all pretense

Sometimes I wish
the actors, plays
and the drama they bring forth
would go on strike
Refusing to perform
Leaving an empty stage

Sometimes I wish
I could step past
all that built up
over my lifetime
and step onto stage
as just myself

Karmic Wheel

That overlooked, we become
Tracks us down, like a hungry wolf
Eventually catching up, devours us
Leaving nothing, but itself

That forgotten, returns
Haunting us, night and day
When least suspected, it floods back
Taking with it, all we protect

That which we pretend to be
engraves its name upon us
for all to see what we have become, and
what we are no longer

And so turns the wheel
around and around
until at last
its work with us is done

Swamplands of the Soul

James Hollis, a Jungian psychotherapist from the Philadelphia area, wrote Swamplands of the Soul in 1996. I have just finished the book and enjoyed nearly every word.

Hollis raises deep questions for all of us. Is the purpose of life to achieve happiness? Who does not long to arrive some distant day at that sunlit meadow where we may abide in pure contentment? But we know life is not like that. Much of the time we are lost in the dismal states of guilt, grief, betrayal, depression and the like.

Swamplands of the Soul explores the quicksands where we have all floundered. It lights a beacon of hope by showing what they mean in terms of our individual journey and the engendering of soul. Encompassing both the meadow and the bog, this author’s perspective asserts that the goal of life is not happiness but meaning. And meaning, though it may not be all sunlight and blossoms, is real.

I especially enjoyed Hollis’ use of poetry throughout the book, drawing upon the works of Rilke, Shelley, Yeats, Eliot, Auden and Robert Frost.

Interested in reading the book? Click here.

Friends Who Dare to Love

Walk with me, be my friend
Continue on, till the end
And when the road disappears
Let’s sit together, count the years

Not one forgotten, or let go by
Each a precious star, in the sky
Then, when each is accounted for
We open yet one final door

Through it together, we slowly walk
Words we hold, do not talk
Once on the other side of time
We await the bells, till they chime

Then through the valley, they echo long
Fill us deeply, with their song
Throughout the night, our love burns strong
Our hearts rejoice, forever we belong