You were named
to seduce hope.
Erik the Red
sold you with a lie.
Green land
for frozen bones.
Once unwanted.
Now desired.
Not for love.
For power.
Not for people.
For position.
America looks at you
with hungry eyes.
Not with respect.
With appetite.
But land
is not meat.
And nations
are not for sale.
You belong
to your people.
To your history.
To your scars.
Colonialism, they said,
was buried.
But greed
does not die.
It only
changes flags.
Gandhi warned us:
Need is human.
Greed is a curse.
When resources shrink,
brothers become enemies.
And friendship
turns into strategy.
America,
you were meant
to be a guide.
But you stagger
like a drunk father—
loud, lost,
and dangerous.
Europe,
do not sleep
inside borrowed safety.
The one who guards you
today
may test you
tomorrow.
Power never loves.
It calculates.
And history has taught us:
When empires hunger,
even brothers
become prey.
Hear the sound of my cry echoes
As the cry of sweet melody flows
A melody of sweet remorse
Feel it in your veins to endorse
Touch my heart Feel it gold
A warm note is enough to warm the cold
Snatch my breath away reaper of songs
A tune to one belongs
Play along Erik satie
I feel your melody with clarity
Gnossienne no 1 strikes a piano good
Don't stop ,it's one for the mood
HEED, my words
for at its end
his name will be
future seafarers
guide like that
of a star
HAIL, the winds
they come from the north
and just yon, a star
that none need attend
and in its glow
a wake of vessels
single sails all
HOLD, bold cold challenge
ill tides a new land
banished from their own
a place painted green
the night's of wars
brought a new day
HOME, a settlement
lay the foundation
later to be called
history or
his story
HOPE, son well in years
will make his own mark
but for now
its father's time
Red hair, beard, temper
ERIK the Red
listen to the pause - silence is golden
A tribute to Erik Satie & his subspecies style
Alfred Leslie Erik Satie
with musicak dissonance so free
Once was all the rage
conveying the genre to John Cage
Paintings
- Impression: Sunrise by Claude Monet (1840-1926)
- Deer in Stream by Philip Goodwin (1881-1935)
Red sun climbs an impressionist sea
climb
Boats and waves dance a gymnopédie
time stands still
Doe and her fawn in a dawn reverie
they drink from a stream in their tranquility
They taunt me
whispers and shadows and vague silhouettes
still haunt me
Vainly grasping for words to explain
why?
Empty questions shed tears in the rain -
I don't know
Was there a season of darkness we missed?
A wave of emotion we somehow dismissed?
Au revoir, dawn
wondering how we will make it through
with our fawn gone?
//Dedicated to my Uncle Don and Aunt Betty whose son Andy took his own life at age 19
Lyrics may be sung to Gymnopédie #1 by Erik Satie
Gymnopédie - a dance of ancient Sparta
Impressionism - a movement of the late 19th century in both art and music with which Claude Monet (art) and Erik Satie (music) are most often affiliated//
Written 5 Aug 2022
(Lyric to Gymnopedie No 1 by Erik Satie)
I open the album I'd long forgotten
and the old photos draw me slowly in
I feel my childhood self intensely
so innocent, so hopeful, in youthful skin
My heart squeezes tight with tenderness
compassion swells for who I was then
I feel a surge of sweetness so painful
to be back with her once again
As an adult, I'm grateful to have been her
I sit with her in quiet gentle melancholy
Life turned out differently from imagined -
I ask myself, is she disappointed with me?
Often she is at the end of her wits
Trying to understand herself
Trying to understand others
And why,
She is a dunce at life
It is said, life can be thought of as either a success or a failure
It is how they will see it
It is how it will be defined
And at the end of her years she will try and do the same
At least that's what Erik Erikson said
And we all define it differently
By her own degree she feels like she is lagging behind
She can't seem to find the silver lining
Much less draw it
Despite the hearing of what she deserves, and something similar along those lines
So allow her to weep buckets
Maybe then it did bring some relief
Like breaking out
*
dear john she replies - dipping her pen into tears
*
listen to the pause - silence is golden
A tribute to Erik Satie
*
the school-bus departs - she eats the advent candy
*
on garibaldi's retreat - the cookie crumbles
*
moss carpets the roof - the blackbirds make over
*
carol concert prelude- - chatter of innocents
*
footsteps in the street - echos of a distant youth
*
filaments in ferment - the elements touch base
*
a tumbleweed,windblown - the bounty-hunter dismounts
*
at ease on my bookshelf - yesteryear's leisured hours
*
a rainbow arises - through a curtain of tears
*
between wind and water - skating on black ice
*
shadows of yesteryear - distortions in todays dreams
*
as a sequence
a perambulator arrives - emptiness takes its leave
.
a quietness descends - fresher term opens
.
room-to-let sign illumes - emptiness returns
My mind’s eye preoccupation,
I am captive to my guiding light,
the source of all my equivocal influences.
Erik Satie under the moon,
Shadowy contours
against a nocturnal silver sky,
my subliminal ambient impressionism.
I am walking a shrouded path,
trudging through murky ponds
where I find the silhouette
of cattails swaying against the moon.
Here, I inhale
the night wind bouquet
from which the violet violins
play through all my dreams.
Published: PS: It's Still Poetry January 2022
Erik was incredulous.
He was twenty-eight, a neonate in the fashion world.
You are sure they said Nieman Marcus?
His wife smiled at him.
THE Nieman Marcus?
I guess so.
He was given free reign.
Youngest photographer to ever work for the Nieman Marcus.
Erik Madigan Heck, my friend.
Whittchurch picnic, favorite days with my relatives,
Many years ago, a beautiful picnic by the lake.
We had a nice picnic table by the lake,
Our brother Tom found this magnificent place, thanks Tom.
Good company and delicious foods,
i have a picture of this good experience at home.
We bought a bucket of Kentucky fried chicken and
received a complimentary beach ball,
The children enjoyed playing with the beach ball, they would toss that to and fro.
Tom with young Patrick, Frieda and his wife Gail,
Mom with her sons Kirk and Erik and grandfather Wolf and grandmother Erika.
We had sunny beautiful weather especially for our picnic,
Went for a walk, a seldom excellent place.
I like to recalling these experiences,
Days with my relatives, very harmonius.
Years later I visited my parents and their spacious trailer at Terra Cotta,
Our mother was waiting to greet us with a glass of champagne.
They have beautiful walkways,trees and chipmunks and squirrels,
What a scenic place to visit.
The traditional old-fashioned picnic is very popular,
We have many good experiences with our relatives.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Monoku is a senryu/haiku with a slight enigmatic flavour written in its earlier as a one line form
*
dear john she replies - dipping her pen into tears
*
listen to the pause - silence is golden
A tribute to Erik Satie
*
the school-bus departs - she eats the advent candy
*
on garibaldi's retreat - the cookie crumbles
*
moss carpets the roof - the blackbirds make over
*
carol concert prelude- - chatter of innocents
*
footsteps in the street - echos of a distant youth
*
filaments in ferment - the elements touch base
*
a tumbleweed,windblown - the bounty-hunter dismounts
*
at ease on my bookshelf - yesteryear's leisured hours
*
a rainbow arises - through a curtain of tears
*
between wind and water - skating on black ice
*
shadows of yesteryear - distortions in todays dreams
*
as a sequence
a perambulator arrives - emptiness takes its leave
.
a quietness descends - fresher term opens
.
room-to-let sign illumes - emptiness returns
"
My days as a married woman with children,
My husband Walter and i had a cottage at North Bay.
This was an A-frame cottage,
Beautiful near the lake.
Our sons Kirk and Erik liked playing on the shore,
We would go swimming in the water.
Then father Walter would take us in a row boat,
A cruise on the lake would guest.
I would cook the delicious food,
Father would gather firewood for the wood burning stove.
We would play games with the children in the living-room,
Like gin rummy and monopoly.
The cottage had an upper level and a lower level,
Decorated with care and love, very simple.
Very scenic and beautiful with tall birch trees.
The cottage had a picnic table on the deck where you could have lunch.
There was a fair portion of property with the cottage,
Seldom scenic and beautiful, what an awesome place.
Would take us about two hours to get there,
Walter would drive us to the North Bay cottage.
What good memories we have of this,
I am thankful to God for all these blessings.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
A beautiful wedding was had by our youngest son Erik and his beautiful wife,Lisette.
They got married in the beautiful and tropical Costa Rica.
A beautiful beach wedding guested, all his relatives were present that could come,
The handsome groom with Elvis black hair wore a suit of white with a Hawaiin Lei.
His bride had long hair and wore an exquisite dress of white and looked very beautiful, wore a Lei.
They sent us some beautiful pictures of their wedding.
They married on Valentine's Day so that we could always remember their wedding each year.
I gave our son Erik,a guitar for his birthday, that he could become a performer.
We will always remember this special wedding.
He would serenade his wife and write poems for her,
They had a very romantic friendship and they grew up together and fell in love.
Society is living their dream I say,
I will always remember this son and his lovely wife.
I think when he used to come and visit his mother Gwen,
He brought me a Poinsetta at Christmas which is very thoughtful.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
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