Original Poetry – T.S. Deary

One day in Novemeber,

a thick wet snow covered everything,

making the sky look like it was in a reckless turmoil.

We stayed home that day with no thought of sleeping in or staying in the house.

We went out with that turbulent sky above us and the wind tugging at us from every angle.

( a snow day! A cosmic gift out of nowhere to be eternally enjoyed.) 

We walked and made tracks in the snow to the hills,

to slide down on sleds,

over and over,

up and down,

over and over,

up and down,

(ths wind knocking hats off heads and pushing its icy fingers into our faces down the hill and into our backs walking back up.)

Then back home,

only long enough to dry out clothes and get warm by the fireplace.

(a welcome respite from that cold wind coming out of the west.)

All time suspended and standing.still,

the night would become even more cold and there would be nice in the morning – forming icicles that would hang of the eyes of the house,

sparkling in the full moon light,

until the sun returns and they begin their slow demise,

making a puddle on the ground that will freeze when the day gets late,

and he adds more logs to the fire,

the smoke rising from the chimney to be carried away by the wind. 

Out on the hill,

in the dead of night,

all is calm,

the trees stand bare and strong,

keeping watch for the coming dawn,

and waiting for all those echoed voices to return.

T.S. Deary 

The night was restless and I passed the time counting rain drops against the window and the time between drops as they fell off the wires on the side of the house.

I noticed the currents of water as they flowed down the street like a makeshift river – here today, gone tomorrow, like his memory and how the stories he tells don’t have right endings but instead they race down the street disappearing when the morning comes.

He surprised me when he said he liked cats, more than dogs, then let the conversation trail off to something like silence.

I could still hear his thoughts churning and waited patiently for whatever winds would blow next.

He ended up complaining about the traffic and went off to take a nap.

The sun shone again in the early afternoon drying the drops on the windows,

(they had been so visible during the night now leaving only the pattern of light through the blinds onto the rug.) 

A straight line pattern – not tangential like the way he speaks , but like a ladder that could be climbed until there is that sunny clarity that comes over the horizon and displaces those raindrops that once ran down the window.

The high chimney – much higher than usual – perhaps to make What was done there disappear faster.

(no reminder for conscience to carry)

The building.- So non descript and ordinary – nothing to betray its true function.

(hidden and closed off to all prying eyes)

Today it is empty and sikent,

cold to the eyes,

windows to view and to contemplate,

(to remember or express disgust)

The effort is genuine but the results are vague at best,

clouds grey and thick,

they settle over as if a gathering storm of rage seeks to remind man of the presence of the Almighty,

the onlooker is left,

to ponder how this happened,

only mirrored by the gathering of clouds as if God is asking the same question himself? 

The chimney stands as a reminder of how the question needs to be asked and how it still remains unanswered to the satisfaction of those who ask it.

It remains,

to remind us,

to keep asking.

In case you forgot 

I have a picture,

of you and I,

fishing.
I, standing.

You sitting next to me.

Blue water,

summer sky,

you small and happy,

me proud and standing tall.

(A moment captured for all time, carried within me, just like your heart.) 

In case you have forgotten,

I still stand next to you,

(tall and proud)

Just like that day,

in the sun,

that has never faded!

Even though you are growing and no longer needing so much help and protection, 

in case you have forgotten,

I remain right next to you.
II. A rainy morning

They rain poured down,

she.did not seem to mind.

She had her phone and watched videos and plays games,

chasing points instead of rain drops,

(maybe she remembered the way the cats used to do that when they were younger and less lazy?)

Then there was a the radio commercial about the cafe,

where cats are part of the ambience sitting all around, relaxed and friendly.

(The way the black one did at the bookstore)

She said she wanted to go and wondered out loud if she could bring the dog?

She went back to her game before I could answer.

(falling rain and the ride went on) 

We got soaked walking into school,

she didn’t seem to mind and I heard her laughing at me when I spilled my coffee.

(she is so.pretty when she smiles)

I tell her so and she pretends not to listen.

III. Adolescent Girl

I love to see the way she looks off into the distance,

the shape of her eyes,

and face,

are so beautiful to me,

(almond shaped, high cheek bones and triangular.)

Especially when she wears her hair on top of her head

and it spills down the middle of her back,

(she does not know how beautiful she is.)

She takes snapshots of the moon,

through the car window,

concentrating on the angle,

(stargazer)

she watches as the train go by,

she is silent,

ignoring me,

(but not escaping the gaze of my mirror.)

Then she brushes her hair.

(her mother helped her wash it last night.) 

Every now and then she checks to see if I am watching,

catching me from time to time,

I tell her I love her,

she never stops,

just looks out the window,

dreaming,,

(she is going to ride after school)

I watch her sometimes,

on her mare,

hair flying out behind her,

smiling,

She does not know how beautiful she is,

so I remind her,

(even when she ignores me)

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Step right up,

Step. right up!

Wait and see what we have in store.

Yacht club vacations and matching polo shirts,

pristine beaches and always cocktails to end the day.

(Only the finest cigars…)

Please, please look but don’t touch – you may wrinkle my shirt!

Aren’t I all you want to be?

Look, look and see…

Mirror, mirror on the wall… who is the fairest one of all? 

Look, don’t touch, please…

I am meant to look good…always such a tease!

Don’t you see the picture?

Aren’t they grand, all those clowns in a circus that anyone would pay to see!

I am a traveler, are you jealous yet?

All those picture perfect landscapes and a great smile to go with it!

I was a soldier once and young,

I can speak more than one language, rolls right off my tounge.

My children are picture perfect.

Just look at the selfies, without blemish or defect.

I am not a  teacher, preacher,

I am much more than that, I am bigger, much better, a new type of creature!

I pay homage to self and all of what I have managed to do.

Always do more, more is better and better is more.

When I drink it is only the finest liquor,

mixed with water to make my own blood thicker.

Light up another cigar,

add to the image I project so far!

Those who look can see me coming,

listen closely and hear the music strumming!

I have the perfect family, the perfect life.

Everything I touch is gilded and well polished,

right down to my shoes,

stop by the mirror again – it never lies, perfect face, well groomed and an all around great guy.

(step right up, step right up…)

I.succeed without even trying and I have the selfies to prove it.

Just point the camera and smile, 

keep going, perfection may take a while…

Just ignore the clowns,

they are illusions,

I wear many crowns.

I always win.

Did I mention how I have managed to remain thin?

I am not of your world.

I inhabit my own and it is full of accomplishments great and small.

All of the accolades hang on my walls,

reflected n the gallery of selfies I share…

(“he is a rebel and a runner… “)

He is his own best witness,

he is his own Christmas card,

a caricature of himself.

He walks on stilts and thinks no one knows.

Trophy wife,

Fantasy life,

Barbie doll dreams,

Perfectly placed pant seams,

Perfect face,

State of grace…

Perfect life,

Trophy wife.

He has proof of his greatness,

documented in thousands of texts,

and all those one percenter friends.

See the worship in his eyes…” Just let me be one of them… ”

I remember your Harvard dreams now on ice along with Princeton and the rest of the Ivy League.

Once the lawyer,

now who knows what and still wandering and waiting…

Trophy life,

Perfect wife,

Trophy wife,

Perfect life.
T.S. Deary 

8/27/19

I have added the latest section to “Jesus the Christ (Son of David). “The Parables” was added tonight.