The Fall

In a letter to Joyce, 21 pages

 A big hole has opened up before my eyes – I can now see the skies

as Summer, sheds her clock of thick greens – now torn and tattered –

faded into shades of gold, red, brown and yellow.

The threads of Summers passing, – in it’s colours of brown, yellow,

red and gold – for two weeks have been coming down like kites

in the hands of children at play, carried on winds of fall,

like butterflies on the wing, pining for the loss of spring as they

flutter about winter’s decay, like snow flakes falling on a cold, gray, day,

like whirlwinds- invisible – caught by the discerning eye, like kamikaze pilots
diving straight to the ground, exploding into colours of brown, all around.

That once green and vibrant forest – that filled my spirit, my eyes all summer –

Now stands tall before me, naked and barren, creating a window

through which I can now see blue, gray, black cloud days

or wet skies, even a sunset or two as I now see shapes of people who walk,

jog, ride, talk along the banks of a creek they call a river –

Coquitlam river – who’s song I can now hear, as it sing it’s song,

as it moves along, on it’s way to that Pacific who awaits her fill,

as she rages on in winter months.

The skies, as I, have been crying – weeping, grieving – for the loss of

warm, blue, dry days of this past, most beautiful summer of all

I have known in the thirty plus years I have been here.

 

B. J. “A” 2

November 17^th 2006

ACCEPTANCE

 

These eyes of mine are slowly closing on the dreams,

I have woven – dreams of hope and a happiness it seems

are coming to an end, just like summers elations.

I feel there is nothing more – no reason for expectations

as I feel you slipping back-to what once was-into the shadows.

I will cherish summer’s joy, pleasure- lost to where?-who knows?

 
    I feel - for you I hold no intrigue, no fascination, no passion, no attraction,     no inspiration - so many restrictions, so many contradictions flow across the waters of one I know not.
   I do still - even though I believe I know - want to give to you evenings filled with the most beautiful sunsets this old world has come to know. I would love for you to experience – in the twilight, in the darkest, in the midnight, in the early morning hours – al the colours one can bring to your life, to your sight, to your heart, soul and to your spirit .
                                           Love
                                                                                 Bill .

Missing Out ?

For some, parts of life they restrain.

From passion, love, compassion they refrain.

Living out life in this fashion, what will they gain ?

 

Freedom from a life of pain ?

Missing the essence of each moment, missing freedom’s train ?

 Fears that lay heavy upon one’s heart, create much strain !

One has to wonder ?, what of that  life, will remain ?,

to carry them through and on to the next plane.

 One has to wonder ?, who’s hands reign.

One has to wonder ?, who’s eyes shed the rain,

who has the power to pull, the rein ?

B. J. “A” 2

November 26th, 2012

Ghostly Images

 

Why is it ?, that we must forget

what it is we have not lived, yet.

From birth, life blinds, yet we have met

that forgotten life, in moments of de’ ja vu.

Could this be our life ?, we occasionally get to view.

 

For most, that life remains mute.

For some, it becomes quite astute.

 

Upon invisible wings, the wind carries a soul

into a void, where no one will know.

Within, the confines of a silent voice, a spirit,

a spirit without the eloquence of enlightened speech.

Therefore, nary an ear to hear, an eye to see, a mind to reach.

Yet that inner voice continues to search for the dance

that will lead a wayward soul across the rainbows to romance.

A love affair with all of the beauty life has to offer,

not to let it rot behind steel doors of the mind’s coffer.

It is, in all that one believes, that creates the fear,

that in the end, will leave them with nothing that is dear.

Therefore, misty, translucent shadows will become all.

Love of life, love of self will surly fall.

These be the images of what lie far below,

a reality hidden among the shadows that lay low

all that could bring one to great heights,

bring one into the beauty of full light.

 

B. J. “A” 2

November 17^th 2012

Refractions of a Soul.

Reflections of that spirit.

 Wondering what ?, at the hands of man, did we create.

Wondering what ?, throughout one’s life, came from the hands of fate.

Wondering what ?, in the end, will one’s life truly state.

Wondering what ?, approaching the end, will be our destiny.

Wondering what ?, when reaching that end, will it be  for you and me.

We are unable to live in the moments of yesterday.

We may only live in the hours of today.

Questions seldom provide answers, only more

that let us know we may never know what is behind that door,

or what will greet us, be our forevermore.

 

B. J. “A” 2

November 11^th 2012

WAR – the creator

( of destruction and death )

From the beginning of mans time on this earth,

he has been a killing machine

- killing for food to survive,

- killing for a plot of land,

- killing because of prejudice,

- killing because of differences,

- killing by some quirk of fate,

– killing by some unforeseen accident.

Man killed with his sticks and stones,

breaking many of his fellow man’s bones.

As man evolved, progressed ?,

over millions of years.

From
Pliopithecus, 22–12 million year old "ancestor of the gibbon line" to,

Proconsul, 21–9 million year old primate which may or may not have qualified as an ape to,
Dryopithecus, 15–8 million year old fossil ape, the first such found (1856) and probable ancestor of modern apes to,
Oreopithecus, 15–8 million years old to,
Ramapithecus, 13–8 million year old ape and possible ancestor of modern orangutans (now classified as Sivapithecus) to,
Australopithecus, 2–3 million years old; then considered the earliest “certain hominid”

Paranthropus, 1.8–0.8 million years old to.

Advanced Australopithecus, 1.8–0.7 million year old to,

Homo erectus, 700,000–400,000 years old, then the earliest known member of the Homo genus to,

Early Homo sapiens, 300,000–200,000 years old;

from Swanscombe, Steinheim and Montmaurin, then considered probably the earliest H. sapiens to,

Solo Man, 100,000–50,000 years old; described as an extinct Asian "race" of H. sapiens (now considered a sub-species of H. erectus) to,

Rhodesian Man, 50,000–30,000 years old; described as an extinct African "race" of H. sapiens

(now considered either H. rhodesiensis or H. heidelbergensis and dated much earlier) to,

Then the gods became involved in the genetic evolution of man.

Neanderthal Man, 100,000–40,000 years old to,

Cro-Magnon Man, 40,000–5,000 years old ,

And then we have Adam and Eve,

Modern Man, 40,000 years to present .

We

As children of the gods, emulate our creators,

and they where violent, warring gods.

History, the old testament, the dead sea scrolls,

the Mesopotamian tablets,

the East Indian Sanskrit,

and many, many more sources tell us so.

War is in our genes, in our blood.

After thousands of years of wars The Great War,

World War One sprung to life and death,

then came World War Two.

Today, November 11^th , we take a moment

to member the men and women,

solders and civilians alike,

that gave their lives to insure

we could live out our lives

in some semblance of freedom.

 

B. J. “A” 2

 

Solitary

( confinement )

Sitting alone, fifty two in hand.
Fate dealt what ?, to this man.

A gift of four beauty Queens,
before these eyes stand,
what is it ?, that life means
for the man in his house of cards,
a man who attempts to play the game of bards.

A realization that life, sometimes, is not fare
especially for a man that plays games of solitaire,
who knows, in the end, will never get him there .

B. J. “A” 2

November 7th, 2012

 

 

For this old man / all of humanity
---------------------------------------------------
A good day is full – with the light from a sincere embrace,

a deep look into sparkling eyes, from a beautiful face,

the electricity from a sweet, passionate kiss,

the essence from moments, never to miss.

These are but a few things that make, upon this earth,

One’s joy and a soul filled with merriment and mirth.

A good day is one, One, can give from the heart.

A good day is one, if this is where we’d start !

For some, they have made it an art,

a beautiful painting to hang on everyone’s wall.

From those who can give their all.

B. J. “A” 2

November 3^rd 2012