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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
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
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
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
In the middle of the room stood the white metal chair
Designed to deliver the best dental care,
But she stood there immobile, unable to move
Toward the object of torture that was likely to prove
To be frightful, exhausting and life threatening too,
As the hygienist invaded her body anew.
“Let me help you.” The voice said as a hand touched her arm and
Guided her forward with arising alarm
To that monster before her with a history of pain
She had sworn to avoid and see never again.
As she sat there she knew that her pulse was increasing
While weakness expanded with blood pressure decreasing.
Her breathing grew shallow and her skin felt much colder
When a masculine hand firmly pressed on her shoulder.
“It’s alright.” Said the voice from behind the white mask.
“I’ll be gentle as this cleaning is a most simple task.”
But the eyes were uncaring, the brows dark with gloom
Providing no comfort in the sanitized room.
Large fingers penetrate as her jaw opens wide
For the scraping and picking to go on inside
With a speed and a hurry and a schedule to meet,
The hygienist leans forward while still on his seat
The pain in her jaw hit so quick and severe
And her groan brought no comfort, only increased her fear
As rough hands did their duty and worked on her teeth
Caring nothing for feelings that lay underneath.
She could hear heavy breathing as he plied with his skill
For to finish more quickly and to give her the bill.
She could do nothing else as she sat there afraid,
So she folded her hands while she silently prayed.
Copyright © Gerald Greene | Year Posted 2016
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