tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41651872381084625492023-06-20T05:33:38.681-07:00Teacher, Poet, VeteranAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10104991623595733458noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165187238108462549.post-1114603074574671772014-05-07T08:46:00.000-07:002014-05-07T08:52:41.333-07:00Frog Pond Ballade<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I
knew my heart galled in a bitter state,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> hardened by years of whiskey and gin,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">softened
only by remorse for my fate,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> I no longer felt for kith and kin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Outside myself the world seemed within,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I’d
walk in my yard around a frog pond<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> watching lily pads afloat so thin,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">ringed
by green and gold mountains beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">What
next? I asked, for time was getting late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> My life would end before I’d begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Leaves would turn fire to coldness of slate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> buried under a plate of chagrin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Is the bud a threat to discipline?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Or harbinger to a magic wand?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meanwhile,
this boy’s gone through thick-and-thin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> ringed by green and gold mountains beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">My
pond’s aura where croaking bullfrogs grate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> to silence peepers’ relentless din,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">bursting
night air in cacophonous fête<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> only reminds me of where I’ve been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> As young and old are forever twin, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">the
night is the song of an ancient bond<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> healing man and nature in a timeless spin,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">ringed
by silhouettes of hills beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">With
joy, I have decided to pin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> my hopes to a pond, of which I’m so fond,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">to
bring me back to the world therein,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> ringed by green and gold mountains beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">George
S. Chappell</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Rockland, Maine</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10104991623595733458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165187238108462549.post-11180373372278277462014-05-07T08:38:00.003-07:002014-05-07T08:51:51.278-07:00A Fishermen's MemorialTbe photograph looks more like a vision<br />
of a steeple top in the clouds<br />
a ghosted scene on rolling surf,<br />
bringing home unseen fishermen in shrouds<br />
who were lost in storms on watery turf<br />
while earning a living away from crowds.<br />
<br />
A black granite stone keeps vigil on shore,<br />
inscribed with eleven names of the lost<br />
from a village known for hardy folk<br />
the courage to venture in boats sea-tossed<br />
going a way they must to invoke<br />
the catch for which they wrest a fatal cost.<br />
<br />
Families of fisher-folk lost in oceans<br />
remember with gratitude that their kin<br />
died honoring a tradition as old<br />
as life itself, when humans shed fins,<br />
emerged from their primal aquatic hold,<br />
yet knew one day they'd have to return.<br />
<br />
And, still today they go out in their boats<br />
from dawn through the day, fog, and wind,<br />
stand at the helm and look to horizon.<br />
When their bodies drift back to land<br />
winds sing a Kyrie eleison<br />
for mercy to others gone out again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
George Chappell</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Rockland, Maine</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10104991623595733458noreply@blogger.com1