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James Fredholm Poem
Please learn to listen, it took me years
to calm my mind and open my ears.
Make time for reflection, gaze often and deep,
the truth is elusive but the journey is sweet.
Focus your love inward, raise up your heart
The love of yourself is where you must start.
Put your roots in the ground, just like a tree,
Grow up to be strong, independent and free.
Redeem all this strength, become selfless and please
learn to be humble and to stand on your knees.
In patience and virtue, you’ll find what you need,
the joy is in giving, the best way to receive.
Into this life, a great purpose will build
and open the path to a life that is fulfilled.
With spiritual joy, there’s no limit or price,
It comes with the love of a father’s advice.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
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James Fredholm Poem
I was wrong about spring,
for all those months I painted the blame on winter’s dark face.
Wave after wave of cold cloudy, darkening days,
saturated my damaged point of view. By the way
I am sure I will die on a winter day, blaming the solstice,
waiting for the capricious spring to finally arrive.
But my heart will be frozen, and perhaps not even alive.
God how I love the way you make the sun shine.
I was wrong about my fate,
I filled the frame in haste, too busy to wait. I didn’t listen.
I ate my own eyes, and blamed the skies,
I chased the horizon and wrapped it in lies.
Oh spring day, it is never too late,
to fill me with mercy and grace as I wait.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
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James Fredholm Poem
Mother and son, a moment in time,
One wants to live, the other to drive.
First of firsts, young son at her wheel,
Both on a journey, spanning their lives.
Indian summer, bluebonnet skies,
Escaping together into painted fields.
One from the cage with its rigid design,
And one from the sadness that family yields.
Exhilaration, he drives through his fears,
Faster and faster, wheels hum and glide.
Silent emotion, she tempers her tears,
Out on the highway they sit side by side.
All those years later, with memory pure,
His son sits beside him, steady and sure.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2012
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James Fredholm Poem
I was lost again for sure
So I packed up my bags
To find a cure. Through
The rain, I held the line,
And rode my hog to the
Core d'Azur. The first
Few days were touch and go,
I ate and drank and took
It slow. The sun and sand
Came close to heaven, my eyes
We're open from noon to seven.
Nights were lonely, I roamed
The streets, until I found
A bar that makes a great
Mojito. Two weeks are
Gone, I feel much better,
My hog is itching for some
New adventure. Good to go,
One more night, just for
Me and my last Mojito.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2015
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James Fredholm Poem
Four days in, the picture frame is Positano,
The falling rain, the silence of our separation.
Unexplained, unravelling threads of expectation,
This is real, we came undone in Positano.
City of dreams, threshold to the lives of many,
Ancient streets, supporting the weight of shuffling feet.
Lonely streets, wet with the tears of Positano.
Thoughts of home, I thought I knew which way to turn,
Walking with you, my feet got clumsy and insecure,
Coming undone, our truth came out in Positano.
Sometimes, we are back again in that passing moment,
Beyond these walls, our souls come out to join and thrive.
Love was alive, and rose like the sun to light the sky,
Once in a life, we were close on the streets of Positano.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
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James Fredholm Poem
She said she prefers humor
In a man. I am no Shakespeare
But I know how to conjugate
With knack and with wit, even
The occasional split infinitive:
To gamely gabble as she giggles.
Where is the fun in that? Better
To impress her with some slapstick
Skit, or razor sharp sarcastically
Spoken iambic limerick about
How good her big "bits" are, yes
My own form of comical flattery!
She is craving for it, the absence of
My despair (also known as tragedy).
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2016
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James Fredholm Poem
Our lives are like crossword puzzles. Similar,
and yet no two are alike. The beginning
needs time, a few steps forward until,
you fall into your first folly, tracing
your steps backwards to the starting point again.
Start again? I think not, written with ink,
the past, the present, the future, are linked,
and cannot be undone. Like the fusias
we planted too early this year. Exposed
to frost, the choice we made was flawed,
and quickly came undone, despite some days
in the sun. And yet we still are holding hope.
Holding hope? Yes it does support our steps
through the crossword puzzled maze of choices
we make. But hope is fragile and depends
on the elusive winds that blow through our lives.
The loss of hope is gradual, but certain.
The puzzle of life always wins in the end.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
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James Fredholm Poem
Unfettered
Afternoon
Ocean breeze
Slowly blows
Through the trees,
Hieroglyphic
Spanish wind
Serenely goes
And leaves me
Salt air dry,
Ozone high,
Catholically,
Cathartically,
Light headed.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2016
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James Fredholm Poem
Real friends, like brothers,
Like glue stick together
Forever, oath of crack,
To the limits and back.
When the clouds come in
And hope is thin,
They dont run for cover
Like feckless, reckless lovers.
Those bricks of hard trust
Laid so tight must
Be always remembered
And forever defended.
In loss the last straws are given,
To forget the past and be forgiven.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2016
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James Fredholm Poem
You don’t know the old world,
But you would have liked it.
In that world, when I was young,
Like you, hungry to eat the roots
Full of fuel, I dreamed I could fly.
Flap my arms and fly, freely
I was a helium balloon,
Rising up into the blue sky.
When I think of you, it is like
A portal into that old world,
Where all my lost years unwind
A chance to find those butterflies
I left behind. You, who don’t know
But you would have liked it.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2012
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