Gary's Yard Sale, the story
Authored by Chuck Keys
Among the rustbelt cities of yesterday,
Along the edges of the Detroit River,
A short distance to the side,
Resides a slice of Victorian times,
Excesses exceeded needed,
Where age confronts time,
The day before meets the day of,
And greets tomorrow.
Those in the hood
Meet and greet among
The scraps of forgotten memories.
Lawns filled with bygones of size,
Tables filled with important somethings,
For important that evolved into history.
Where memories become linked,
Each to a stored thought,
Treasured, pleasured or disdained,
To a person,
Of late or present,
To a future of who knows what.
During the day,
The history-of and the future-of talk,
Of where they were,
And where they hope to be,
The dust is blown off with the wind,
From the east, west, north and south.
The yard sale, the graveyard of the past,
The arena of the present,
Life and death of the sale,
Dance together, coupled,
Where Mine, becomes Yours' while
Gary the Conductor, orchestrates to perfection,
The operatic enjoyment of history,
Buyer meets seller, exchanges
Are made. As is today.
*This poem is dedicated to Gary and Ann Harris of Northville MI USA – May they and
their Yard Sales age forever!
© Charles H Keys, 2010. All Rights Reserved. V1.4.09252010
Decades yawn and stretch across the years,
traveling up the stairs, around the chairs
coiling around the door of one small room
that was groomed by the sun of a Saturday afternoon...
Floating on a sea of a hardwood floor
I'm prone, on my back, on a lavender rug
Examining the nail of my left hand thumb
hearing you express, that you aced your class
I had confessed, to missing you more each day
linked only to you, by that ivory phone
and a ring on my finger, that bound our love
and blinded our eyes to the doubt of youth...
Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold
There was a cake on order, and a cold hard world
You were glued to my ear, I was entrapped by a cord
that tugged on the wall, with every word
Light from the yard is scored by the blinds
but, there on the floor, prone on my back,
I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives
Linked to your voice, where love was wound
Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood,
I had a pillow of shag of a lavender rug
The days stretching short and our vows yet untold
A cord getting stronger, that time would unfold
~ Sandalwood ~
Fall days leaves of gold orange and grey
this scent fills my room with passion my mind with clarity
The senses are calmed and my inner soul strengthens
As if I can visualize inner peace
watching the many trees fall
The scent of Sandalwood reminds
~ of what once stood ~
allowing me to accept all
bringing solace to my soul
filling the air of past and present
one of natures gifts holds a musky oil passionate
enlightens all senses reminding me
of Native American ways fires blazing
children dance and listen to old ways
Thunder and rain in the misty Canyons
dessert Sage and Sandalwood
close my eyes yet seeing the truth
Along a pier, on a bench,
An old man sits all day.
Passers by not lending time,
To what he has to say.
They'll never know the loves he had,
Or ocean blues he sailed.
If they had just a moment,
Oh the tales that he could tell.
A gent with fishing rod in tow,
The "big one" but a dream.
The old man pleads with aching hands,
Would you come sit with me?
A flashing glance, a fleeting wave,
No time for you old man.
Then you'll not know my secrets,
How sure giant ones to land.
Not sailfish fought for hours on end,
Bursting through the sky.
Nor great whites conquered, whales harpooned,
Nor where the mermaids hide.
A lass sashaying, book in hand,
Of romance she does read.
His crooked finger motions her,
Would you come listen please?
With rolling eyes, a turned up nose,
His answer once again.
Then you'll miss the most daring ventures,
Ever known to man.
Expanding near a century,
Ore exotic lands and seas.
My passions, loves and tragedies,
Would bring Shakespeare to his knees.
So when you see an old man,
Sitting there alone.
Most all desires that you have dreamed,
He has lived and known.
He can fill you with adventures,
A knew world to you unveiled.
If you'll just take a moment,
Oh the tales that he could tell.
In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away
Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega
Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega
Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega
Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!
Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Dedicated to every young man bestowed the honor of wearing
the glorious Oklahoma Sooners' Crimson & Cream
Over sixty years, boy and man, I have been a Sooners fan;
And always hoped to be among the truest in the stands.
And while I don’t remember all the Players’ names,
They’re my Heroes, each and every one, because they play the game.
When they’re on the field of battle, my Sooners surely give their all;
And when they’re on the sidelines, just waiting for a Coach’s call;
Visions of Glory must be dancing in their heads;
The Glory of the moment and our cheers, the Glory of playing for
the mighty Big Red.
And for those Sooners who rarely played, whose names were
known only by a few,
Make no mistake my friend, each of them is my Hero too.
Like Soldiers waiting in the ranks, but never called to fight,
They ‘re ready and they’re willing, their spirit and their sacrifice
add to Big Red’s might.
I stand in awe of Sooner Magic. No, I never doubt it.
My Sooners could have never won so many Championships without it.
But don’t misunderstand when I say Sooner Magic won those games;
It was Sooners players who, once again, rose to the occasion and
glorified the name.
Sixty years of college football and my Sooners have won the most.
Their fierce pride and performance inspire this simple toast:
“My Sooners Team goes on and on, different faces, different names;
But my Heroes, Each and Every one, for win or lose…
They play the game.
I'm often repeated and hardly defeated
Could be good, bad or ugly
it all depends on what you make of me
I run a full course when fully encrypted
I am Habit
I can make you soar sky high
As well as fuel your eyes to cry
Can lead you to great profit
or lay you down underneath
Its still me Habit
A friend to both the achiever and mediocre
The very small stream that makes a river
What's your flavour? I make and mar
Can keep you redundant or take you far
Call me Habit
Be firm with me and you'll achieve a great feat
Be easy with me and you'll be wasted six feet
Halls grow dark
Walks within new
Like shards pang
Hold her so
Yet so far
This new life