OUT WITH THE OLD – Judy Dykstra-Brown

I think she speaks for all of us on this!

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Out with the Old

When I plant that New Year’s kiss,
just what is it I’m going to miss?

I certainly won’t miss the news,

which has not failed to unamuse.

I will not miss my aches and pain,
lest I invite them back again.

I will not miss the expense and cares
occasioned by my roof repairs.

I will not miss my aged appearance
or my young cat’s disappearance.

I’m looking forward, all-in-all
to having no regrets at all.

I’ll take my year unmarked, uncreased, 
with all past worries now released.

For Daily Inkling’s New Year’s Kiss prompt.

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UNSEEN FORCES – Judy Dykstra-Brown – A Poetic Reblog

This explains EVERYTHING. Watch out for the pixies in your hair! From: lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Unseen Forces

A sneeze is how a poltergeist gets outside of you.
At night a different stinky elf sleeps inside each shoe.

Every creaking rafter supports a different ghost,
and it’s little gremlins who make you burn the toast.

Each night those tricky fairies put snarls in your hair,
while pixies in your sock drawer unsort every pair.

Midnight curtain billows are caused by banshee whistles.
Vampires use your toothbrush and put cooties in it’s bristles.

Truths all come in singles. It’s lies that come in pairs.
That’s a zombie, not a teenager, sneaking up the stairs.

https://dversepoets.com/

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U.S.A. – Judy Dykstra-Brown

U.S.A.

Have we any doctrines? Have we any rules?
Are creeds and regulations simply meant for fools?
Has our common decency been voted away?
What of our constitution? Has it become passe?
What would our founding fathers think? What would they say?
Will loss of their declarations be the price we pay
for taking it for granted that liberty would thrive
so long all our citizens managed to survive?

We always saw the threat outside—all those foreign men.
We never thought our country would be lost to those within.
Tell our air and water. Tell each foreign son.
Our doctrines and our principles seem to have come undone.

via U.S.A.

THE BALM OF WOE – Marilyn Armstrong

 There’s no making up for a lifetime of too little sleep.

A while ago, I asked Garry if he thought I would ever catch up on the years of very little or no sleep.

He said “no” and I think the same goes for him. We lived for many decades on short hours and long days. I still don’t sleep well.

There’s no way to make up for a lifetime of lost sleep. Some morning’s are better than others, but in the end, there’s always tiredness, the wistful feeling a couple more hours of sleep would have been so nice.

Have you ever met a dog with insomnia?

In answer to this morning’s question, I think the last time I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to dive into life was before my son was born — more than 49 years ago …

Come Sleep, O Sleep …

Sir Philip Sidney

Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,
Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the press
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw!
O make in me those civil wars to cease!—
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf of noise and blind of light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head;
And if these things, as being thine in right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see.


NOTE: If you read this sonnet aloud, “press” in Elizabethan English was pronounced “preese” to rhyme with release. At least, that’s what they told me in college.

SKEWED LIBERTY (THIS COUNTRY FOR SALE) – Judy Dykstra-Brown

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 SKEWED – Judy Dykstra-Brown

Everything is tilted. Slightly unaligned.
The constitution set askew. Liberty maligned.
Some of the well-heeled citizens think that this is fine.
They cannot see that everything is slightly out of line.
All the pretty Philistines queue up at their tees
while their flunky lawyers determine what to seize.
Contracts with the Russians. Schemes to sell off national land.
Cronies helping cronies. Off-shore drilling by demand.

Rivers being sullied and oceans compromised
while insuring rights to bear arms are exercised.
Certain pious preachers line up behind the svelte,
proclaiming to the masses that they know what Jesus felt.
Indeed, the smallest sparrow  no longer matters much
so long as all the mighty increase their greedy clutch––
all the money-changers, corrupt to the core,
filling all their pockets with the money of the poor.

Surely it is clear that at ruling they’re inept,
and if he was watching, surely Jesus wept
as all the pearls of liberty were cast before the swine
with each self-serving libertine declaring  what is “mine.”
What is true no longer matters. What “they” say is now what now counts.
They say it’s holy scripture as they settle their accounts.
People, take off your blinders. Consider what is real.
One nation, under God, was not set up for them to steal!

THE HOLLOW MEN – By T.S. Elliott

A poem for our times. Or maybe for other times yet to come.

Mistah Kurtz-he dead

75-AutumnalFigs-HP

A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

🎇 🎇 🎇
II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

🎇 🎇 🎇
III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

🎇 🎇 🎇
IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

🎇 🎇 🎇

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

YOU, A LIBERATION LYRIC – RICH PASCHALL

by Rich Paschall

Since it is National Poetry Month, I thought I would share my favorite lyric from the musical Liberation.  We previously told you the story of Liberation – A Musical That Almost Was and the book’s co-author, Betty.  I mentioned that Betty’s favorite song was called “I Believe” and I posted that lyric over on Sunday Night Blog.

Rich and Betty at Pajama Game rehearsal

My favorite song was the only one not expressly written for the show.  It was written in the time period of the original script and only 20 years later did we decide that a secondary character needed a song.  He represented the only love interest in the show, but we were concerned about writing a new song in the style of the original show.  One day I played a recording for Betty without comment hoping she would say what I wanted to hear, “Ray’s song!”  And so it is.

Perhaps I love it so much because the music seemed to match up perfectly with the words.  That is good since I rarely would comment to Michael what type of music he should write for any set of lyrics. The Soundcloud recording below is the one made by Michael after we agreed to put this song in the show. It includes the one word changed from the original recording, although I am still not convinced we needed to change. Can you guess the word below that was put it in only for the show, and what it might have replaced? Hint: It’s an end of line word.

You

What are the words to convey the meaning?
How can I express this feeling in me?
How to say thanks, for all that you’ve done —
You’ve opened my world infinitely.

You are the light that shine on my journey.
You are the smile that inspires my day.
You are the power that makes me keep moving.
You are the wisdom that shows me the way.

For me to share in the dreams of your world,
For you to share in the building of mine –
This is a gift for which I am grateful.
This I’ll remember throughout my lifetime.

You are the laughter that sings in my heaven.
You are the tears that come now and then.
You are the reason for me to keep trying.

Thank you so much,
Thank you so much,
Thank you so much
For being my friend.