My aching Tears

My tears ache, they cry out, reaching for sun beams,
only to find, to feel, - touch nothing - lifeless , empty dreams
are all around, surround me in that nothing it seems,
leaving me to think, to wonder what it all means.

I reached out, to touch you today Mandy, only to find
your voice on the line, for a second, then an unkind
act befell me, you hung up, a sure sign,
I feel, - you prefer to keep me out of your mind.

Nothing more than phantoms, seem my hands Mandy,
as I try to reach you, to touch you. Can it be ?,
that my ideas are grasping at a ghostly ideal.
My hopes, my desires, my dreams, what I feel

is what is meant to be !, my life ?, my fate ?, is it real ?
I hope and pray Mandy, that what is before me
has no hold on, has no foundation in reality ?
A heavy sadness has crept into me this gloomy day,

- just like the cold grayness that came and pushed away
the brilliant warmth that did blanket this land
a brief twenty four hours ago, and I wonder ?, at the hand,
and why ?, it wants to make my fragile, aching soul

cry out so, in fear that my Daughter, I no longer know
and whom, it seems ?, wants to know me not.
An empty, vacant, aching heart is all I have got
to remind me of my Child, who seems fraught

with pain of her own, who shows anger, indifference,
that I matter not and can make no difference.
to the way she thinks, the way she chooses to live her life.
How she copes, how she handles her strife,
as she walks the sharp edge of life’s knife.

B. J. “A” 2
May 1^st 2002

   I hope not Mandy, but do think so, that what I left for you this morning – my thoughts, my feelings and my understandings - dated April 29^th 2002 – will not reach your eyes, touch your soul, raise your spirit and they – like me – will be set aside, left unopened, or worse !!!, ( if anything could be worse ) then what I feel at this moment .
   I do hope and pray Mandy, regardless of where you are at or how you feel about me, that you will take the time to see me, - even if I only come to you in written words – and understand your old man, and maybe ?, even reach out to me .
   I am and always be here for you Mandy, my door, and the door to my heart will always be open and so do not be afraid to use this knowledge my Daughter .
                                  Love
                                      Dad .

My Dearest Mandy

Girl, my beautiful Child – into my life you came.
I gave you your first name, for a while my last name.
You were a bright light in my life – that shone,
radiating hope, that, now fades, is almost gone.

I feel it in my heart, my soul, every day at dawn
realizing, in pain, once again, I will not be seeing you,
my Grandson, having fun, wondering ?, what to do
as this life, these times, experiences slip away.

Lost forever, never to be known again, so I pray
that whatever it is ?, will change one day !
I call you daily, once, twice, your phone rings and rings
You see it, you know it, you hear it, but nothing it bring

to my ears, but itself, not a sound, not a word,
not a whisper, a thought, a feeling have I heard.
Not an explanation as to what this is all for ?,
as I see, as I feel you slowly close the door.

That death bell sounds, it doth toll,
 it rings out loud - in my heart – with strife,
strife that, with all else, has stolen my soul,  
taking piece, of what little is left of my life !

B. J. “A” 2
April 29^th 2002

These days, wet – with Linda, & Melanie .

Tears fall like dying leaves, their dust, blowing into my eyes.
Tears slide down my cheeks, slip off my chin, fall onto my shoulders.

They, given birth, created by the steely cold of life’s experiences,
from the aching, braking heart, shattered soul of a woman I know.

From the uncertainty, doubtful heart, fragile soul of my woman Child,
my tears fall, they come crashing down at the birth of, and at the hands of

fear of the unknown, fear to face life, even with her wisdom, at her young age.
Fear of losing at the game of life as her youth reaches towards growth.

These tears, I feel deeply, these tears fall like a torrential rain.
They come thundering down on me in suffocating, choking pain

For all I want, – lost – experienced, cannot have, want again,
want to hold onto – good or bad – some kind of life to sustain.

I pray, that one day, the sun comes out, upon them, will shine
upon all their heart aches, sorrows, melt away, - all -, in time.

Their pains, their heart aches and will set them free
to discover, to find their life’s dreams, themselves to bee

In this writing – laying before your eyes – my dirge, my song.
With this, I pray that you see, find strength, will be strong,

take life by the coglioni’s, stand tall and carry on,
- knowing that in this life, most are but a pawn –

as I have, yet seemed not to have done
and find, that I may just not be the, only one

of so many – more notable, famous, infamous – who feel they,
in all likelihood, left, said, done, gave little and may,

or do, feel that their talents, their wisdom, their knowledge
possessed- possess- was not truly given, shared as we sit on the edge

feeling we have given, shared very little of ourselves.
Feeling empty, little, like a dwarf, like elves.

Girls

I - as you – know that life is but a rocky road.
I am not referring to that sweet stuff call ice-cream.
I mean the weight of life, that heavy load
one carries into that abyss, the ocean deep
where no one gets a glimpse of what they seek
nor can hear your ( what’s inside you ) silent scream.

These places, where no one may know your nightmare,
 these places no one can see into, know your dream,
unless, that is, you have found the freedom to share.
For me, all I see – with these eyes, blind –is despair
and having been there, I have the experience to compare
and the light it shines, opens your doors, let you know I care.

My thoughts, my words, this poem shows you, I will always be there

 B. J. “A ” 2

Wm. J. Atfield Jr.

April 14^th 2002

Night Moods

Stars weep, they cry in the night sky
for those who laugh in the light of day,
yet, not with spirit, heart soul or eye.
They see not the game they play,
nor understand what laughter is about,
nor can they know what laughter is all about.

Dreams

Some cannot see by the light of day,
only in the darkness of night can one say
they see all, for that is when the veil slips away
to reveal all that has been blinded by what may
lay before the mind’s eye in the bright light of day.

This night brings

This night, as so many have come before,
take flight – life / night, brings nothing more

than those that have been, will be born.
nights waiting, harbingers of the forlorn –

as I sit before this one eyed monster.
For life’s many moments – the creator

as we exchange glances, stare
into the abyss, the windows – and share –

of each other’s lifeless soul,.
To learn, what ?, what is there to know !,?

Easter

Time’s light, dances across the crucifixion,
falls upon the cross, the spaces in-between
- two thousand years is where we have been -
and on towards the light of resurrection.

Springing out from that darkened cave,
came a man who was not, yet was brave.
I, and this place, in time, dance alone.
Then, as before, we were on our own.

Not once – by anyone – was it shown,
- nor by any means we have known, -
that the hearts who know and are known,
took the time, the thought to care,
or a fleeting moment, in which to share.

Passions lost to the past -
passed a long time ago

The childhood of Linda B

From the sickness of a father, came bricks !
From that denial by mother, came bricks !
From genetics, experienced sister, came bricks !
 from the same, created brother, came bricks !
From fear, denial, burial, nothing will fix !
Walls, fences, barricades, road blocks does the trick !

The pain inflicted by the hands of father, brother,
perpetrated by sister, a blind eye, turned, by mother
have been the masons, laying all the bricks for this wall,
walls that have created the rough ride to your fall,
keeping you uptight, in fear of one and all.
Searching, finding, experiencing, all seem to lead back.

Throughout the years, nothing found to put you on track !

Reaching out – Touching

Grappling hooks tossed to the top of this wall
- catch !, -, yet, are unable to pull it down.
not one brick comes lose, wall will not fall
to earth, will not touch the ground.
the attached rope, a possible means by which to scale.
with every attempt to climb over, to allow, doth fail’

Try, as one might, to scale these walls !
Try, as one might, to knock down these barricades !
Try, as one might, to go around these road blocks !
One finds these walls to high – far too high to climb,
the bricks, far to secure in their mortar to be dismantled,
the barricades, of cement, cemented in time – immovable,
the roadblocks stretching out into infinity, no way past.

All merging, meeting, greeting with restricting rejection.
Hands, thoughts, feelings protecting the soul, with a piece of cloth
that tells a story, has more to say then words ever can.
It prevents freedom, the motion of every man.

Wilderness

The bush within which I live, the wilderness of my life,
- life created by the hands of men, men I know not -
life created by the very hands of this man.
Wilderness lies all around me, in lifeless memory,
memories of a life lived in the realms of others.
A life once lived ?, now but a memory
of another life that overwhelms.

Melaine

My heartache weeps, profusely, for you Melanie !,
knowing that my tears will never wash away
 the pain, the fears you are feeling within your growth,
your understandings, your desires, your desire
to be needed, appreciated, loved and your need to be.
All I have to give you, is all the love that is within me
Melanie, and I pray that it is able to help you through,
allows you to see the roads clear, the paths far and near
and is able to allow you to set your soul free
 and not to be waiting on life to happen,
waiting for life to ring.
Open the doors and, my Dear, sing !

B. J. “A ” 2
April 13^th 2002

Looking into life’s journeys

And I wonder, just how many of us are dancing to its beat ?
I wonder, just how many of us do nothing, but only walk it’s street ?
I wonder, just how many of us go through life, standing on our own two feet ?
And then I wonder, what drags us ?, as we crawl towards what we fear to meet,
yet, all of us, cannot escape our fate and in our own time, surely will greet.

B. J. “A” 2

November 18^th 2013

A stretch

There is this Beautiful Lady, I have come to know.
In her desire to reach, is it to me ?, she wants to show
legs stretched out, “ one foot on the sun
the other firmly planted upon this earth ”.
For this old man in the moon, what fun !,
as he orbits this little blue planets girth
forever passing by, getting a glimpse at creation,
that beautiful place, came mankind, what fascination !
After she had stated this, her spiritual desire,
I, of course, turned it into my passions fire.
This Beautiful Lady, of course, meant something higher
while I, reaching out for what I require.
Will we ever get passed this game we play ?
Will our souls touch each other ?, one day.

B. J. “A ” 2
November 10^th 2013