THREE IN SIJO FORM

I
When the beckoning telephone causes your heart to race,
and you awaken each morning to daunting and disturbing truths,
be reminded of the friends God has placed upon your path.
 
II
In the midst of these disconcerting times, this painful trend,
this season of anguishing heartache and languishing disquiet,
I will lift my face to the heavens -- and I will choose joy.

III
I search the lake for still waters, yet see riotous wave
after riotous wave, thus hindering my view of the lighthouse.
Yet the Light of the World illuminates my path to joy.


Marie Elena

ER

 

Silently she sits,
vigilant, ever-concerned.

More trouble than a Good

and loving soul should stand.

Making a grand plea for peace
for a troubled daughter,

an aging father, and
a mother-in-law that is

as Good as her name.

Just the same, she'd rather

cuddle on the couch,

contemplating poetry
and wearing her "Buckeye Pride",
while inside there is
a sentinel, a guard of her sanity

and her heart. Always that Good man

near to keep her well-rounded,

grounded in her faith; relief

in every belief on which she was raised.

Praise to He who is deserving,

never swerving from her heart.

But for now, she sits.

Silently. Steadfast.

Good to the last.

Walt

WHISPERS

It's a tranquil lake that licks the shoreline,

a gentle taste; longing for the familiar flavor

of a summer sent packing. Lacking much
in the way of seasoning, but anxious for the season
that approaches. It can be heard in soft sounds.
Not rambunctious and raucous; more tip-toey

and cautious. Secretive. Seductive. Luring

and alluring. Stirring the paint pot with
a broad brush, coloring the landscape to offer

a grand escape from the hum-drum. Some

certainly envision the splay of oranges and golds,

crimsons and whatever else nature holds for our viewing.

Autumn is brewing. Not with an extravagant entrance,
but with a warm nuzzle; a comfortable caress.

Hushed words expressing what a heart can feel.

Hear it in the whistle of wind. Listen to the rustle of the leaves.
See it in the palette of the Grand Master's artful stroke.
Embrace the whispers of a serene and assuring nature.

Walt

MEANWHILE, ACROSS THE LAKE ...

Summer Heat lobs a
bolo punch, not yet ready
to throw in the towel.

Marie Elena

A CHILLED WIND

Morning breaks,

moistened by the evening coolness.

Misty fingers meander

across the grassy knoll, touching

every blade of grass in tender caress.

A slumbering sun lumbers over the horizon,

rising to prominence by degrees.

The wind wafts over the spreading green,

a scene witnessed time and again.

Summer breathes its last gasping breath,

a cough and a wheeze in a cold autumn breeze,

and an expiration expected, but sadly endured.

Autumn falls.

Walt

CHAMPION ANGLER (MASTER BAITER)

He walks by night
flashlight at the ready,
he holds it steady
to keep his prey at bay.
Creepily, he slinks; fisher by day,
and by the way, he’s good at his craft.
You’d have to be daft
to walk in the shadows
in the dark moist night
they’re right under foot
as night owls hoot and they scoot.
Creepily, they slink, earthbound
and round, for now off the hook.
But as the day breaks
he’s got what it takes,
and anglers, they wait;
they always take the bait.
Just the earthworms he’s chosen.
Two bucks for a dozen.

Walt

...AND SPEAKING OF LAKE ERIE

FISHING AS A HOBBY:  STATISTICS IN HAIKU

Half like it. Half don't.
It all depends on which end
of the line you're on.

Marie Elena

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

I was drawn to their son.

The kind blue eyes

That softened, and crinkled in the corners

When they dared make contact with mine.

The broad shoulders,

That beckoned me to lay my head

Against the chest they framed.

The unassuming demeanor

That spoke volumes to me

Of how he was raised.

But my heart had been wounded.

My trust had been broken.

My spirit was guarded.

Until I met them.

And I saw

The kind blue eyes

That softened, and crinkled in the corners

When they made contact with hers.

The kiss placed tenderly on her head.

The hand that gently stroked her cheek.

The whispered prayer that honored her.

The heart that took in

Every word she spoke,

Every breath she drew.

And I knew

Their son,
Who was stealing my heart,

Could be trusted.

Marie Elena

Photo by Ron Gries

To Mom and Dad Good, with much love and great respect.

DRAWING NEAR...

Temperatures be damned, in a week we enter the "official" start of the fall season. With the Autumnal Equinox at hand, we accept that all good things must come to an end. It was a great summer in Buffalo (an oxymoron, to be sure), and although I hate to see it go, it is time to move on. We're doing a lot of that now-a-days; not always willingly,but neccessary in all cases. So in re-prioritizing our lives on the business ends of this Great Lake, we cling to what matters most. Family. True Friendship. The odd poem, from time to time.(And if you read my and Marie's work, you'll agree we hit that mark all too often. ;) We'll try and keep the warmth at a comfortable level here "Across the Lake", not too cold - not too hot. Just write, Right!?

The final third of 2010 inches to completion. It has been a tumultuous, yet productive year for both of us here. The holidays are drawing near; a chance to put those familial lifelines to good use. Thanks to all who have visited M. E. and me here at "Across the Lake, Eerily", and have offered encouragement or have been touched by our heartfelt muses. You tell us we matter, and that's always a good thing. It just helps us all draw nearer.


Walt 

HAIKU

As we consider
Nine-Eleven of ’01,
God, what have we learned?

Marie Elena

POETIC NURTURE (Pathetic Future)

Life went on in a downward spiral,

a world gone viral and lacking in decorum, no forum for discourse, 

just the forces of nature in coercion with the latest version of humanity without sanity.

The vanity of every man, woman and child had taken a wild turn, spurning tradition and
heading on amission to destroy all good things. Presidents and Kings, lacking in insight,
fight for their agenda, hardly mending fences and fostering the pretense that they strive
for the common good. But, no man had the ability to change things, no hope was ever
offered. We asked not what we could do to achieve that city on the hill amidst a thou
sand  points of light. All we did was fight. In a country of excess, we came to lose the
ability to express, we would digress, a less civilized purpose; a banal circus of
illusionists and clowns. Cities and towns, centers of populations and industry,
armies of force and destruction laid barewithout care.
The inevitability of a
world wide revolution,
a universal solution

to pollution and
hunger, homelessness
and hopelessness,

brought all the
problems to the
common man
to solve. We 

had evolved into 

survivors, alive 

for each other; 

sister and brother,

Father and mother.

Pulling together in

the same direction.

Not striving for per-

fection, but working

to keep the peace.

Poets became the keepers of wisdom, wordsmiths

and scholars, knew it got better before every verse. But first we needed 

to join our hearts and minds to find our footing; a good way to start. No longer were
we right of left.Conservatives and Liberals ceased to exist. Republican and Democrat
were not viable concepts.Too bad we had to destroy all we held dear to get to
here.          Maybe          in          the          future,          we'll          remember.

Walt

SUMMER TAKES LEAVE (A SONNET)

As earlier the moon begins to rise,
and sun sets in the peached and purpled sky,
so even birds and animals surmise
that fall is in the air -- though slightly shy.

Don’t let her cool appearance disconcert,
for she can be as warm as amber‘s core.
Her sun, no longer brass, will toy and flirt,
as dazzling colors soon come to the fore.

As summer takes her leave, she bids farewell.
Yet I, for one, cannot feign grand despair.
She failed to cast on me her storied spell.
I’ll welcome autumn’s palette, and brisk air.

As summertime releases sultry hold,
I watch for autumn’s magic to unfold.
 
Marie Elena

HAIKU

towing harvest moon
as the sun sets on summer,
warm friendship sails on

Marie Elena

SUMMER SETS SAIL

                                           The
                                           winds blow,
                                           mo
                                           re
                                           brisk
                                           and cooler
                                           over Great Lake
                                           waters.An eerie sense
                                           of finality raises over the
                                           horizon and blends frantically
                                           with the darkening cloud patches,
                                           traces of Summer becoming fainter
                                           memories. Autumn waits ever impatiently,
                                           fighting for a dominance; prominence, meeting
                                           resistance. In the distance, a lone boat tracks, sail
                                           billowed in the stiff breeze, a genteel serenity commands
                                           the late afternoon. You swoon over the beauty as it faintly
                                           grips
                                           you,
                                           waves of emotions and Erie's redundant tide.
                        A whiff of warmth lingers, as you can count the fingers on one hand
                              the number of the times the lake had disappointed. Turning
                                        toward shore, the shifting wind brings the single
                                               sailor homeward. Summer sets sail.


Walt

IN THE SPOTLIGHT

All the heat of a million suns
baking; no mistaking your influence.
For in the confluence of words,
the only thing heard is the sound
of a heart beating, greeting the stares
and glares with a clear head
and a passionate fire. It has been your desire,
to progress in talent and scope,
a sincere hope that success comes
with all the trimmings. Skimming your heart,
stepping out of your comfort zone, alone.
Taking your place on stage finally,
tempering your sanity and fighting
off your critics not ready to release you.
It pleases you that they hold you tightly,
but rightly, you have more stages to grace
in search of your rightful place.
Taking the world by storm and being warm.
In the spotlight, never let them see you sweat.

Walt