As some of you might have noticed I was missing from blogging for a while. Some of the reason due to illness, some of it due to not feeling like thinking about the crazy world we live in and the horror of our times.
Missing from our society is the rational day-to-day mundane parts of life. We have media blasting us on all sides about politics, wars, fundraising, sports, supposed star personalities, new products to buy and things that really do not matter to a vast majority of the world’s people. To them, the day is made up of getting up…trying to feed, cloth, and shelter their families and themselves.
It is sort of disgusting to watch our modern entertainments such as music, videos and TV revolve around sex, nudity, absurd fashion, video games and media hype. Storage businesses are booming because we feel compelled to go out and buy items many of us cannot use or do not need,,, because we feel good to be able to buy things.
We no longer repair things we just throw them away and companies make items to be tossed or make things too cheaply or too complicated to repair.
So I settled back and tried not to think about anything…it worked for a while…but only a while. So for a look back I decided to put history aside and post one of my latest poems. It is not very good or great… but in a way, it is the history of how I feel about today, the world I am in and the people I have met, ... and those who have passed before.
So I will post this poem for Dianne Lodor, a dear friend and a tireless worker for Eaton and the Community, as well as one of original members of our history group. I miss those who have gone before very much, and I am sure you have those you miss as well.... so this is for them and for you also...
I hope you enjoy! View the video and note all of the missing people and perhaps yourself when you were younger in 1995.
Memories like cymbals clanging
In the empty corner of each room
Feelings left unfinished
Brushed aside to hide the pain
Of love
Time heals they say
But that is not so
It only deadens a heart grown heavy
With our life when filled
With woe
It marks the channel of the oceans current
Changed by our tides ebb and flow
So out on this sea of life we sail
Not knowing the way wind
May blow
Poems left for other lovers
Line by line written so
But memories prove unforgiving
In feelings that eyes do
Not show
Life is like a bottle
Set adrift at evening time
The ride it takes only guided
By the moon and its
Earthly tides
With no control and no clear path
We wander shores of sand and sea
Always searching for love
And in the end finding
Life’s realities
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