Saturday, October 7, 2023

Time has become a recurring theme in my writing. From a play and a song written about Time Goes On to other it is a word that appears frequently. Many moons ago the following two poems came about in a short period and gave me pause for thought.

Time #1

Time my friend

like waves rushing over still rocks

etches its enamoured memories

across forgotten faces

tracing for all to see

that, where minds rarely wander

heeding all calls to cover up

and eluding that which we hope to see

Time,

an unforgiving enemy

whose chief talent is patience

in a never ending sea of uncertainty

whose lifestyle has never changed

In the face of new challenges

whose boundaries have been tested

and stand the test of time

Time,

the ultimate creator

who knows no greed

whose crimes are faceless

whose final goals are always met

Time,

the beginning

and the end

the father

the son

and the holy ghost

Time

Time #2

Time Has Come

Time has passed

and time is on its way

Time is what you wanted

Time should come to stay

Time

and Time

and time again

You wished for things you couldn’t control

If only time had shown you

Where to take your stroll

Saturday, September 30, 2023

This is a PSA. Retinal detachments, partial or full, are scary things. The procedures to save your eyesight can feel extreme (to put it mildly) but if they save your eyesight they are worth it. Warning signs of retinal detachment may include one or all of the following: reduced vision and the sudden appearance of excessive floaters and flashes of light. Needless to say, you need to see an ophthalmologist immediately.

Learn How To Bend

An ice cream headache

And an arc welder

My eyes were open wide

No place to run

No place to hide

It really did happen

I can confide

Getting older isn’t easy

Getting older isn’t the end

Much like everything in life

You learn how to better bend

The types of things that happen

When you become older

And retinal tears attack your eye

The light show was amazing

But the pain was enough to make a strong man cry

Spending a month on my stomach made me wonder

Spending a month made me see all the reasons why

In the end I still carry on

And see a world lit by sunny skies

by Bill Ferguson

Up For The Challenge

It is always the aspiration more than the reality that ends up being important. It is the guidance for our future.

Up For The Challenge

Innovative to the point of excess

Creative and thinking

Running the gamut of intellectual thought

Visually leading us

With words and phrases and sounds

That push at the edges of our tolerance

Making us scope out the scenery

Asking us to invest more

Than a casual listen

And question

The realities

We now

Face

Are we up for the challenge?

Most nights I can’t sleep. One night in August, with the windows wide open, the sounds of the wolves who live on the hill across the road come through the night with various degrees of clarity. The rest is history. Oh, except the drinking part. Poetic license. I drink very little over 12 months. Rarely would be the word. Please exercise caution if you do drink.

A Little Less Melancholy

The wolves were howling

On a clear summers night

Talking to each other

With contagious delight

I sat sipping on my whiskey

And she on her wine

When she said she felt

A little less melancholy

It was then I knew she would be fine

Lily Tomlin , as Edith Ann, used to say, “And that’s the truth!” And it is.

And In The End

There are songs to be sung

Songs that fill your heart

And bring you to your knees

Songs that work your feelings

And aim to ever please

Songs that enrich

Songs that fulfill

Songs that teach and instill

Songs with insights

Songs with pain

Songs that encourage you

Again and again

And then just when you

Believe you have seen enough

One will be silly and full of fluff

Make you laugh and make you cry

Make you bow you head

And wonder why

There are songs to be sung

And in the end

That is enough

There are times when you are having discussions with people that you discover things you never knew before. I always admire people who share their stories about how their life has changed and their explorations to make themselves into what they see is a better person.

Perspective

In your eyes you see someone withered

Humbled by the events that did unfold

Brought to your knees

By a terrible disease

It was a different life all told

Through my eyes you are a marvel

Formidable with towering strength

Kept your wits clear

While living with fear

As you traveled it's complicated length

It’s a story of two perspectives

One from outside and one from within

Both are so true

Of hardships dealing with what we knew

The strength it took as you grew

Thanks for sharing

I am glad that both sides are a win

by Bill Ferguson

All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

Here are three, unrelated, short poems.

Family history is interesting. While we can only get part of the story, sometimes the part we know of has so many questions that need to be asked, but never answered.

The Power Of Her Game
My great grandmother
Had politicians at her beck and call
And ministers of industry
Gracing her front hall
Priests, and ministers, and preachers
Visited one and all
What would such a simple woman
With no knowledge or claim to fame
Discuss with all these people
What was the power of her game?

Those boring conversations where all you hear are, "I painted my house, I bought window coverings, I am having this or that done next month." In short there is nothing really substantiative in the discussion. That is how some people operate and that is fine, for them.

Drivel

Before the words were said

I’d go into hiding

Enjoying my time

To contemplate

I could let their thoughts

Slither forward

Sharing ideas of their interest

But mindless drivel comes pouring out

There is no fascination in that

When people want you to continue to repeat something because they enjoy it, it is never good for the creative process.

Regurgitation

Regurgitation is fine

For birds

But in life

It shows a lack of creativity

Making one despise

The power of public praise

by Bill Ferguson

What?

Sometimes our minds start a dialogue that tries to make sense of what is written. Is there really sense or is it just the efforts of the reader to impose some structure on what could be a series of random words? As John Lennon once famously said, “let’s keep them guessing.”

In this case I woke up from a dream that was putting together a poem with only words that start with W. Upon waking you see the result. Does it make sense? What do you think?

What?

Watching waifs wonder when

Wishing women wistfully whittle

Wicked ones whisk wildly

Without worrying wedding wrath

Wireless wiretaps working witness

Windswept wasteland without weed whacking

Whistling wildfires wrangle woodpiles

When working writers weaken

by Bill Ferguson

Friday, September 22, 2023

I am sure I learned the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken in high school. I know that throughout my life there have been references to it in numerous places but it really did not enter my thoughts until I had finished this poem.

Too many people follow the safe path that is laid out for them rather than exploring all the other aspects that show up as you live your life.

Here I Hear

And here I hear

Silent steps

And here I hear

All pretense

Softly singing

Simple refrains

And here I hear

Private thoughts

And here I hear

Words I’ve lost

Gently bringing

Back memories

Time was once upon us

Time was recording for sure

Timeless memories

Bold and obscure

And the point was well taken

Avoid all safe and sure

Take the path that was not taken

And learn all that needs to be learned

And here I hear

Quiet whispers

And hear I hear

Your final breath

And here I hear

Your loving voice

And hear I hear

A beginning and an end

by Bill Ferguson

There are many people who have the experience of hearing voices in their heads. Sometimes the voices are strong and demanding and others are passive and easily dismissed. Some function well and others need help. Sometimes the odds are in your favour.

You Still

One voice inside your head

Determined to take a stand

One voice among the many

Hoping you will understand

And somehow

You still attend

You take steps to conquer

The world where you fear

You are losing your mind

And cannot seem to adhere

And somehow

You still ascend

Things become rather blurry

Each voice wants its way

Pushing and pulling

In complete disarray

And somehow

You still extend

Intense emotions

Demanding to defend

Areas of discomfort

In ways you never intend

Your beliefs and values

Are never to offend

But one voice has control

And so in the end

It’s the one on which you depend

It tries to make amends

When will it end

by Bill Ferguson