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    Headstall
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Headstall's Reflections - 61. Chapter 61 Charity and Waking

Just a couple of poems.

Headstall’s Reflections

 

 

Chapter 61 Charity

 

 

One foot placed

In front of the other

While we consider the sorrow

Of a mourning mother

 

It changes the perspective

Of our own irks

To see exactly where

Real devastation lurks

 

In a world gone mad

We must learn to cope

Count our blessings

And hold onto hope

 

While carnage reigns

And children die

We could sit back

And question why

 

Life gives

And Life takes

With floods and fire

And heartless quakes

 

We could watch in silence

From behind our walls

Dull our senses

And ignore desperate calls

 

Or put our faith

In love and charity

And trust good hearts

Are not a rarity

 

We are infinitesimal

When Nature roars

Wreaking pure havoc

While settling scores

 

So send out prayers

For our fellow man

And please reach out

In any way you can

 

It just might help

You sleep at night

That you can help

Another soul’s plight

 

 

 

Waking

 

Sunshine finds its way

through the cracks

Enough

to lighten my room

Another morning

filled with blacks

After tossing and turning

In my tomb

 

Incessant chittering

of a raccoon

A lament

from the stand of cedar

Perhaps annoyed

night ended too soon

Scant time

to defeat my feeder

 

A truck rumbles by,

silencing all sound

The day shift

is underway

My lonely night ship

Has run aground

Casting me out

on my new feet of clay

 

The human spirit

is astounding

In its capacity

to handle pain

Even while our hearts

take a pounding

We can still embrace

the rain

 

No preaching... no message... just poetry :) 
Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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No message?  Perhaps not, but these gave me a sense of human nature's flexibility in times of trauma.  In the immediacy of disaster, we all band together, but then old habits reassert themselves, and only in the best hearts does Charity still burn as bright...the rest go back to petty bickering and divisive rhetoric.  'We did our part', they say to assuage their consciences, forgetting that the tragedy lives on for those directly touched by it...then if it should happen to them, they are the first to complain of the slowness of response.  They expect charity to be a continuous thing, and yet gave only token returns when asked by others.  Charity, like Christmas, should live all the year long, as one reformed Victorian learned....

And then, there are people who face each day knowing that it will bring trials both inner and outer, and face them and the new day just the same, cognizant of their faults and frailties, but not letting that stand as a roadblock to doing what they can to make this new day just a little better.  Strength of spirit, a resolve to carry on...it is those people who know what living is, because they pay the price for it each day from what might seem a finite account, but it gives the greatest interest rate on a future where anything can happen.

:hug: my dearest friend...  :heart::heart:

  • Like 4

As others have said, both poems are touching. Waking really speaks to me though. There's a resigned outlook one has when getting up first thing in the morning, and you captured that here beautifully. The play of external - a chittering raccoon; a passing truck - against the internal 'wakening' is very nicely done. 

Edited by AC Benus
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On 9/23/2017 at 2:43 PM, LitLover said:

Both of these touched me.  I feel that same helplessness as I watch the news of the natural disasters happening lately.

 

The second poem, although tinged I’m pain, reminds us that our hearts keep on beating as we wake to face a new day :hug: 

Some mornings I need to give myself a talking to, as my Mom would phrase it :) .  Get up and get going... that's what we all need to do... so that's what I do... thanks, Lit :hug: 

On 9/23/2017 at 3:23 PM, ColumbusGuy said:

No message?  Perhaps not, but these gave me a sense of human nature's flexibility in times of trauma.  In the immediacy of disaster, we all band together, but then old habits reassert themselves, and only in the best hearts does Charity still burn as bright...the rest go back to petty bickering and divisive rhetoric.  'We did our part', they say to assuage their consciences, forgetting that the tragedy lives on for those directly touched by it...then if it should happen to them, they are the first to complain of the slowness of response.  They expect charity to be a continuous thing, and yet gave only token returns when asked by others.  Charity, like Christmas, should live all the year long, as one reformed Victorian learned....

And then, there are people who face each day knowing that it will bring trials both inner and outer, and face them and the new day just the same, cognizant of their faults and frailties, but not letting that stand as a roadblock to doing what they can to make this new day just a little better.  Strength of spirit, a resolve to carry on...it is those people who know what living is, because they pay the price for it each day from what might seem a finite account, but it gives the greatest interest rate on a future where anything can happen.

:hug: my dearest friend...  :heart::heart:

Right on the money, my friend. Charity, though, is personal. It's not only about financial assistance... sometimes all we can give is our sympathy... and if that's the case. it's fine. Many of us, though, can make a gesture... it is the right thing to do. 

 

There can be treasure waiting for us with each new day... but we have to be present and open to it... nature gifts us all the time if we choose to go forth and accept it. Life is to be lived, however small your circle, and whatever pain you have endured, or do endure. That starts with getting up and hoping for the best. :)  Thanks, CG... I cherish your comments, and I cherish you :hug::heart: 

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On 9/24/2017 at 9:57 PM, AC Benus said:

As others have said, both poems are touching. Waking really speaks to me though. There's a resigned outlook one has when getting up first thing in the morning, and you captured that here beautifully. The play of external - a chittering raccoon; a passing truck - against the internal 'wakening' is very nicely done. 

Thanks, AC. I appreciate your comment. Waking, for me, is about living, even when it's difficult to see the point... as I've said before, poetry helps :)  Cheers... Gary....

  • Like 1
On 9/24/2017 at 9:59 PM, BDANR said:

"Charity" was a treasure to read. While not meant to be a message, it definitely showed me the importance of looking out for your fellow human being. I also liked your poem "Waking," especially its ending and how it speaks to the resilience of human beings.

 

Thank you for these :).

Thank you, BDANR. I really appreciate your comment. I'm pleased these meant something to you. I believe we should remember, there is always someone worse off than ourselves. And even if some mornings are hard to face, being able to get up and live is a precious gift... not to be squandered... cheers... Gary....

  • Like 2
On 9/25/2017 at 12:46 AM, mogwhy said:

they have messages for the reader. i was drawn more to the second one. maybe because i can do anything that the poem talks about that it hits me harder/ dance, Gary as long as you can. even in the rain:hug:

I'll keep on boogieing, my friend. Life is too precious not to dip and dive and shake me ass for as long as I'm able... :hug: 

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