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Gerald Greene Poem
LONELINESS
The lonely person walks unnoticed
with unfocused eye and unsteady step,
failing to keep pace with the crowd.
An approach of reliance to everything,
like a crutch under the arm of the wounded,
maintains balance amidst turbulence.
You saw and did not recognize or notice,
as if that person was as normal as you,
but beneath the shrouded cloak of emptiness
hides a soul weeping dry tears.
Loneliness feeds on isolation,
depression its friend, little noticed,
but there are signals.
Loneliness has a signature;
a tell-tale sign for all to see,
like an amateur gambler's tell.
It might live with you unknown
or work by your side eight hours a day,
where its influence grinds,
as if it were a metal file.
Loneliness is looking for new hosts.
Has it found you?
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2018
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Gerald Greene Poem
The heat of summer slowly dissipates.
Long days grow shorter and the weather cools,
as Autumn equinox delineates,
when children move from beaches back to schools,
and leaves begin to dry as sap recedes,
preparing for their colorful array.
When frost arrives with glistening silver beads,
Fall’s arbor shines in glorious display,
while pumpkins ripen in the farmer’s field.
Thanksgiving overflows from grateful breast,
with larders full of generous summer yield,
and nature slows for winter’s frozen rest.
Bright leaves fall, leaving twigs and branches bare,
as forest floors acclaim autumnal flare.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2018
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Gerald Greene Poem
It’s been three weeks
since I was in the grocery store,
and an emptiness weighs,
as if I’d lost a friend.
The government issued orders
for people like me,
calling it “social distancing.”
“Stay home,” they say.
Going to a place containing what I need--
things like crumbled feta cheese,
or low sodium pasta sauce,
is like being with a trusted companion.
Greeting cashiers by name
makes each spree a social event,
as well as a lifesaving one
that refills the pantry.
My last visit began with an App,
where I selected what I wanted,
and ended when a stranger
put bags into the back of my car.
My larder might be full,
but my heart feels empty--
deprived of its weekly ritual
of hunting and gathering with friends.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2020
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Gerald Greene Poem
I started a Corona diary
today, recording what is happening,
and how it’s impacting my family,
as we adhere to social distancing.
There’s more than just one minor risk involved,
that causes us to give this germ wide berth,
to mitigate this problem, not yet solved,
impacting every life on planet Earth.
Most stores are closed, and factories are si-
lent, in a fateful effort to preserve
all lives, both young and old, as we apply
new rules, in hopes to flatten out the curve.
So, here I am ensconcing with my wife,
recording Covid’s changes to my life.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2020
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Gerald Greene Poem
Today was April Fool’s Day,
reminding me
of lighter times.
While listening to the news this morning,
I yearned for the traditional,
“Gotcha, April Fool.”
But all I heard,
reflected an unforeseen truth
from an unseen enemy.
No prank
or white lie could I detect,
from unsmiling faces.
The April Fool remained hidden
in pandemic’s shadow.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2020
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Gerald Greene Poem
Oh faithful one who lies in peace upon the crusted floor.
Remembered not, nor recognized for who you were before.
In winter last you rested calm, awaiting nature’s force;
unseen, unheard, untouched, unknown, but on a charted course.
The warmth of spring; the light of day with juices stored for growth.
The buds brought forth on branch and limb; from earth to sturdy oak.
The healthy tree prepared for spring brought moisture from the ground
to buds that swelled with every drop. Protected safe and sound.
The magic moment brought by time. The sun upon it shone.
No ceremony marked the day the leaf emerged alone.
The combination of the three; the sap; the air; the sun;
Brought to the leaf maturity. Its work had now begun.
It labored hard from that day forth, its mission to perform.
Regardless of the time of day, from weather cold to warm.
It stayed connected to the tree through storms and winds aloft.
The leaf was strong, and did not fail; was firm, but also soft.
By day the moisture it did flow from tree to air so clear.
The leaf released it to the sky so clouds could then appear.
By night polluted air absorbed and cleaned for use again,
Prepared for all in purity with precious oxygen.
Though summer’s drought prevented rain so nothing else could grow,
The roots were grounded deep in soil where moisture lay below.
The tree was faithful to the task, and food it did provide,
So dog-days could the leaf endure, and thus would stay alive.
When autumn came and days grew short, its time was almost done.
The leaf brought brilliance to the tree. It knew that fall would come.
With color faded, moisture gone. The leaf prepared to die,
But one last gift was it to give whence fallen from on high.
The breezes took it from the tree. Its random drifting down.
The forest silent as the leaf fell gently to the ground.
It lays serene beneath the tree, majestic yet unknown.
Its beauty lingers as it lies upon the snow alone.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2016
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Gerald Greene Poem
Alone in a strange place,
sitting at an old dining room table,
in a cool room with little light,
I organize new thoughts and write.
It’s not that I have much to say,
today, more than any other,
but ideas like magma push through
my crust of consciousness exploding
onto the page as words and phrases.
The quiet room, an elixir, motivator and guide,
allows freedom of expression
and contact with deep places
I reach only when dreaming.
Strong ideas and uncontrollable inspiration
builds with every word,
until the climax forces a halt to newness,
giving transcription time to keep pace.
When family returns and silence is put away,
the notebook is closed, and I take my place
joining the conversation, as if nothing happened.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2019
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Gerald Greene Poem
She paid her respects to the maven as she worshiped in a manner most graven.
Her prayers were sublime, while she looked for a sign with an offering placed in a basin.
Hands held to her chest as she wished to be blessed, while the leader frowned in her direction.
Her thoughts pondered gloom in the cool, darkened room to strengthen her newfound connection.
Impressed with her new independence, she reveled with increased persistence.
Her journey became a sweetness to claim great success with a wonderful fragrance.
This pleasant adventure did forcefully bring her along with its power to hasten
A change to her person which tended to worsen, becoming what good people chasten.
While receiving a sinister gladness, she felt something leave her with sadness.
Her feelings embraced a commitment of haste to enter the place most call badness.
Inner peace now departed. Her new life had faltered, succumbed to the forces of evil.
Perplexities grew as she failed to see through her decision to worship the devil.
Anxieties met no resistance as they penetrated deep without hindrance.
So with happiness gone, she was left with no one to give her much needed assistance.
She now was distraught to the point where she thought that living lacked purpose and meaning.
So she took her own life with a sharp kitchen knife, which showed how depressed was her feeling.
Now reader be wise, pay attention; to the life of the maiden in question.
She sought to be free from her anxiety, which led to her fatal decision.
Look into your heart to prepare a fresh start and focus on a brand new beginning.
Know love is the cure that will help you endure a long life with a much better ending.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2016
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Gerald Greene Poem
The visitors left me
with empty rooms
tasting like the last bite of cone
beneath my favorite ice cream.
Bare mattresses confront misty eyes
and small piles of laundry
stand at the foot of each bed,
like left over food.
Silence seems impolite,
interrupting conversations
still echoing in this cool place
that was warm an hour ago.
I am alone.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2018
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Gerald Greene Poem
This year's convention was perfectly planned
and held in a beautiful place.
New York was the venue where everyone went
that had enough good hotel space.
Three brothers did come together this year
who shared a room in a hotel.
They had a good time while they were together
as meetings were going quite well.
The third day they went on a short field trip.
Long Island was where they did go,
to visit a major competitor there
and learn how their business could grow.
The field trip was great, they all did agree.
It gave them ideas and when
they talked about what they had witnessed that day,
they wished they could do it again.
When back in New York that very evening,
they parked their old van in a lot,
then went to their hotel and were quite surprised
to learn that the power was out.
They thought of the stairs, in great disbelief.
What were they now going to do?
Their room was up on the seventy-fifth floor,
that had a most wonderful view.
But that many floors is quite a long way,
a long way they all three agreed,
and if they could make it somewhat interesting,
perhaps they could climb it indeed.
John whistled aloud for twenty-five floors,
then Joe began singing a song,
and when they relaxed after floor forty-nine,
they wished the steps weren't quite so long.
Now it was Ron's turn, a story to tell,
while climbing the last group of stairs.
Just twenty-five floors remained to be conquered,
and then the success would be theirs.
Ron then remembered, alas much too late.
Now he knew, but wished he knew not.
The key to their room was not in his pocket,
but in the van, parked in the lot.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2016
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