Long Ponderings Poems
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Ponderings
As life moves along its continuum
As reflection of the past becomes an increasing occurrence
As the sun rises and sets each day as before
When the hours pass just like they always have
When one day leads into the next
When time seems to be fleeting
What do we think about
What do we do to pre-occupy our minds with
What can we do to prepare for life’s eventualities
How do we justify our being
How do we look at how our life unfolded
How do we move on from here
Why, why now
Why the process and the journey
Why me
Into the abyss we move
Deeper and deeper into our own sole journey
To be remembered or forgotten
That is the question to pondered this day
Andreas Simic©
Forthy waves fooled me
Lulled me into believing there would be warmth
I plunged in.
My heart nearly stopped.
My body nearly frozen
In the depths of this dark uninhabited lake
What if I die? I wondered
Who will find me?
No one knew I was here.
I could get a cramp.
I came out sputtering.
The woods were nearly silent.
I saw a flicker of a leaf, and then another.
My teeth were chattering.
I put my head under a second time.
It felt warmer now.
Something slid past my buttocks.
A snake?
A turtle?
Do they bite?
A fish?
It seemed warmer.
I began slowly swimming.
A little algae was on my fingers.
I gently flicked it into the waters.
Which seemed lighter now.
The sun had arrived to watch.
I swam into a natural spring.
Not hot-tub warm, but warm.
Delightful.
It was as if I owned the lake
And the woods.
It was just me and God.
I felt better than I had in years.
Deciding at that second to swim
every morning at this time while I was here.
"No one swims at this time of year!" my friend called.
Breaking my meditative ponderings.
I waved. "I do!" I called.
He waved and walked back to the house.
Leaving me to my magical thoughts.
Surfacing from troubled dreams
becomes a hasty reshuffling of plausible realties.
One by one, flimsy fibs are tested,
then grudgingly rejected as improbable.
There are always reasons to arise
and remain perpendicular
even though we may be still following
a horizontal dysfunctional track or trace.
Time to chew over a few words,
let flow the in-the-know and bluff
until enough is done, said, published,
bruited abroad, proclaimed
as a hear-ye ambulating truth.
Proclamations and declarations,
that indeed we are all here
listening to each other
explaining away our on-going
disorderly mental ponderings -
for of course,
psychoanalysis is far less revealing
that our daily abstracted, distracted,
rambling perambulations.
In Church today at the dawn of morning light,
she sat in front of me
hunching over just a little to my right.
Pale, frail, mottled unfolded hands,
with hint of a slight tremor
she fingered the hymnal rising unsteadily to stand.
I watched her as she struggled with the pages
searching for the song the choir sang
with desire to sing as she had in past ages.
Age had stolen much from her
some memory, health and time
spryness and agility now remain only a blur.
Her vision bore images of youth and boundless energy
lost in the memories of a life lived well
that now waned from illness, age and generalities.
She was on the slide of time
chasing it down around the hidden corners
the twists and turns and unexpected blessings sublime.
In my ponderings I recognize the truths expressed
with close friends, loved ones and family
she was and is surrounded by what is always best.
At her side, they gently guided each and every step
patient and directing her so not to let her fall
filled with love and life, faith at its very depth.
What miraculous a goal with nothing to append
all done satisfied and close in reach,
complete achieving all at the journeys end
Upon my bare bent boughs, the blossoms itch,
‘Tis the high season when pollen count rises,
So much better when I wore not a stitch,
Now one's nerve jumps at nasal surprises
Humans emerge from their winter abode,
In awe of the plush panoramic rush,
Foregoing instinctual rambling code,
Flora slowly chokes below feet that crush
A summit of Bards I steadfast embark,
Beneath acrid acidic fall of rain,
Mini Beasts vie to bite deep through my bark,
As strained soil struggles to feed its gaunt grain
We ponder, Is Spring not all it may seem?
Spring with wise Sapiens would be a dream.
Date: 19 February 2023
Spring is not all Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
From the heart, words pour out
Silent thoughts – prayers – memories
Endless doubts and insecurities
Blessings loud and sorrows in clouds
Melancholic verbs, imaginations
Heard by the voice of thunder, the light
Raining down in sighs, miserable cries
From the soul, words I do not know
Whispers of hope – laughter – wonder
Dreams within my deepest ponderings
Muse alive, a fire – desire – hunger
Burning away the hurt, the darkness, worry
Smothering out the doubt, so loud
From the spirit, words read by moving lips
Students of yearning, graceful with their harmony
Glowing in hues of radiant animation, kindness
Flowing from their answers, their stanzas
About life, love, freedom and the fanciful lives
Those who know it is love that decides –
Just which poem is inscribed by the starlight
October 9, 2022
though pen whispers its words,
even echoes perceive its poignant allure,
beyond the scratched surface, it breathes deep,
percolating the senses with its aura—
sniffed as the fragrance of rose.
in thought’s depths nib probes,
to uncover the truth hidden in words—
splashed on the parchment of beasts,
gleaming like stars through the night’s dark sky.
it lifts chaff from the winnowed grains,
to plant in great minds the beauty that grows,
and gleams in billowing beacons as hope despite gloom,
winning hearts, garnering accolades in droves.
still it purifies ponderings and erases errors—
not with force but with subtlety
of persuasion, illumination, and quiet candour—
to rejuvenate and kindle weary souls.
Mountain Sleep
Mountain sleeps once upon a lake
Yellow bird skims the surface of liquid blue
Draws in an insect on the slender beak
A subtle noise discerned as it gathers up the bug
Disturbances below are heard, a lifted fin, a splash
In nervous motion the trout moves back below
Cheated by the bird who stole his living meal
Above the lake, below the gaze of mountain
Snow melts, rain rides the spine and washes down
To purify the path
Make the past and present one and the same
Gliding between here and now
Mountain looks for a cover
But only finds the white of ice
Trees are used as toothpicks upon the ponderings
Lake is gargled with the blue and brine as mountain thinks
Wakes, meditates. It rises on green grass
Mirrored at the water’s edge
Pretends to see right through it
Then turns with each hour of the sun
Bakes with the red birds spinning like rotisseries
Mighty wings lift and swoop on clouds
Rivers rush with them to some lost town
Forsaking summer in a rush of churning waves
Joined by colored feathers keeping tempo
Mountains are too heavy to go with them
They are only rocks and rocks don’t run or fly
They only fall and roll with wisdom into winter
Tectonic movements take them slow along the land
Steeped in snow that covers everything with solace
On the giant slopes pulled over like a blanket
The mountain, brought to its knees, to sleep
I've treasured memories like purest of gold
Which are pondered in thought as I am growing old
Of my little children a long time ago
And the questions they posed, they
just wanted to know
Of animals, bugs, and of toads,
snails or slugs
Of fabric and string, Oh! Can we make a rug?
And of funniest words that they
found simply absurd
And of people and places
of which little ears heard.
Who, when, where? What?!
Oh, Mommy how?
And why? Why?
Why mommy, aren't we allowed?!
Of questions, this mommy had heard
Every day
As the children discovered through
their world and play
The seashells from the wonderous sea
The world, their university
And thus this theme which now I ponder
As back in time my memories wander
You take joy in seeing my heart bleed,
Because of your avarice and greed.
The pains you caused come with no reprieve,
Yet you’ve the audacity to leave.
I invested every ounce in you,
Your ponderings control all I do.
My bitter cries you heedlessly sought,
Yet you’re blind to the hatred you brought.
How can your mind ever be at peace,
When the sadness you give does not cease?
You bury my joy far out of reach,
When your love is all I ever preach.
Away from you, joy will surely flee,
Though it seems arduous to foresee.
But so long as breath lives in your lungs,
Deep grief will lace the words on your tongue.