Antonio

Tags

compassion, emotion, empathy, free, homeless, insecurity, kindness, loving kindness, nature, personal, unconditional love

.

.

My friend, Antonio,
greets me
with a salute and a bow
(it’s his way).
I am very glad to see him
and very honored.

I don’t see him very often,
he has his own schedule,
not necessarily
corresponding with mine.
He is a free spirit.

Through dark glasses
he sees the world
(so not to offend).
He is very conscious
that his appearance
may cause concern.
He wears a beard,
his clothes are ragged,
all his belongings
follow him
in a shopping cart.

He feels uncomfortable
in enclosed spaces,
so he sleeps outdoors,
summer and winter,
on a park bench
(with his friends
the squirrels),
when temperatures
are well below freezing.

He is not immune
from assault,
beatings
(having his teeth kicked out),
not because of what he does,
but what he is,
how he appears.

I usually see him
in front of the library,
one of his favorite places.
He likes to look at books
and see pictures
of kings and other people
he has studied
in school.

Occasionally,
he joins me for coffee.
He tells me
the most wondrous stories.
Sometimes,
I think he makes them up
for my benefit.
In any case
I am honored.

.

Prufrock

Tags

despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, emotion, empathy, eternal, fantasy, forever, imagination, insecurity, lifetimes, loneliness, longing, lost love, love, loving kindness, mystery, personal, romance, Shakespeare, T.S. Eliot

While pondering Prufrock, and his unanswered, “overwhelming question”
I consider my world of insecurities,
the fourth dimension,
the meaning of life, of afterlife, how high the sky, how deep the sea.
A lot of questions; but, most of all, is that woman looking at me?
And if so, why? Is it admiration? Perhaps my fly is undone.
Is she smiling or snickering? Are my clothes too tight? I’ve just begun. I like to think I’m individualistic, independent;
not a slave to the crowd. My clothes suit me – rather vintage, resplendant.
Or, am I a joke?
Is my style inappropriate, my hair too long?
The words float in space and, in my head, I hear the music to a song.
I’ll admit some insecurity; a lot of insecurity —
more learning, more questions. I like to think of that as maturity. I openly seek, and appreciate, the approval of my peers.
I know that contradicts;
but that’s the way I’ve become throughout the years.
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
It is the sum of who I am, what I’ve done and where I’ve been.
I’ve had much more than my share of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels.
Unlike Eliot, I consider myself more of a new age seeker. Yes, I have heard the mermaids singing
and no, they do not sing to me.
I have become the watcher, putting in my time, dreaming of the sea.
Infinite waves, at times lapping at the beach, or crashing on the shore.
Sometimes, I think that life should have more meaning, that I could be much more.
I have accomplished what I could – “cat will mew, and dog will have his day.”(1)
As always, the beautiful women smile, and chatter, and walk away.

…

(1)[1600-1 Shakespeare Hamlet v. i. 286]

Phrases in italics are quoted from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S.Eliot, one of my favorite poems. What I like most are the daily observances, recollections, distractions, insecurities and the questions.

 

 

 

Let Me Sleep Until the Dawn

Tags

dawn, fears, insecurity, personal, philosophy, restlessness, ruminating, sleep, thoughts

 

Now I lie beneath the covers, worldly thoughts I try to smother,
sleep, a pleasure like no other, eyes feel heavy, a yawn comes on.
Pray to the Lord my soul to keep, plump my pillow and snuggle deep,
sigh and settle, welcome sleep. Sandman, show me somnolent scenes,
dream me drowsy, dozeable dreams, grant me glories to gaze upon;
let me sleep until the dawn.

It doesn’t seem too much to ask, nightly nap after daily tasks.
Let me sip from a soothing flask, no further need to labor on;
tomorrow is another day — to fight the fray, to harvest hay,
maybe to while the time away. Never mind the resolutions,
problems having no solutions, the curtains of the day are drawn;
I want to sleep until the dawn.

Now, I begin to feel a twitch, a muscle spasm, now an itch.
I really hate to whine and bitch, but this condition can’t go on.
Turn on the light, read my book, squint, give the clock a second look,
wonder how many pills I took. Covers rumpled, twisted, tangled,
I’m annoyed, nerves are jangled. Maybe, turn the radio on;
I need sleep before the dawn.

Think I’ll go down and watch TV, something relaxing — history,
maybe drama or mystery, don’t want anything that’s too long,
don’t want to think or contemplate, would be nice just to vegetate,
if it’s too slow I’ll ruminate. Jay is always good for a laugh,
just in time for the second half. Shopping channel has got a con;
I can’t believe I’ve got this on.

Hush sleepy papa don’t you cry, sleep will come — by and by.
Sing me a soothing lullaby or sweet and lowdown, bluesy song.
In the wee hours of the morning, thoughts arrive without a warning,
evil thoughts like hornets swarming, spoken by a voice inside,
meant to weaken and deride — I’m not worthy to carry on.
No time for sleep — here comes dawn.

…

I often have a problem with Insomnia. The above represents a fairly typical night for me. The form of this poem is loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” which is, I believe a Sapphic variant. The rhyming pattern is: aa/ab/cc/cd/db/b.