Author: stevehaarman

So many time we perceive joy as happiness
Brought on by a successful event or some victory
We may become audacious, even ignore other
Important things going on about us

But there is another joy not marked by
Laughter, celebration or outward smiles
This joy is held by those who do not
Necessarily reek with optimism

They intuitively connect with the
Seriousness of condition. They are
Aware of the hard reality of life, but
Do not build walls of the cages, that

They could find protection in
No, the evil powers about them
Are challenged by legal means or
By prayerful meditation and good acts

Death is a possibility, but it will be under control
It is an everlasting peace that they point to
Suffering will be shared; then released
It is now that they find their quiet joy

Stanski
December 15, 2019 ^

As long as you are ignoring me,
please don’t bother answering my
question.

Stanski
December 14, 2019^

Dads caution their children
Hands off, sonny
Don’t break anything

Officers take children
Under their arm
Help them shop

Compliment them on a choice
That will be nice for your mom
Now let’s look for your dad

Children are happy
This is their day
Glee is the word

Merchants are frantic
Never been this busy
So many children

No music on the streets
Too much work
Setting up a sound system

A lot of white hair
Many men with beards
But no Santa Claus

Ho, ho, ho
On Dasher, on Dancer
Lighten up, Rudolph

A lot of noise
Many good hearts
Happiness prevails

Stanski
December 14, 2019 ^

ADDING IT UP
America is no longer a land of the free
But a land enslaved by ignorance
The Boomers were pampered
Parents did not want them to suffer
No hard financial times for them
No world wars for them
They took freedom for granted
Protested the Vietnam War
Withdrew from society
Narcissistically turned inward
With hallucinates and dropped
Out of society until free-love
Communes and drugs depleted
Their money and they had to work
In the eighties they infiltrated
The news networks and education
We have been paying ever since

Entitlements have replaced
Personal responsibility
Diversity has replaced community
Partisanship has replaced objectivity
Political correctness over civility
Social justice has replaced charity
We arbitrate morality replacing the
Equitable judgment of moral certitude
We incapable human beings have
Replaced the Divine Creator
Human life is only valued by
The importance we give it
The strong oppress the weak
We take human life at will

These are dangerous presumptions
We are still a great nation
But we are living off the efforts of
Those who came before us
The moral, spiritual, and intellectual capital
Is not being replenished by anything real
It is a false capital that we have found
And unfortunately it will not sustain it

Stanski
December 13, 2019 ^

A century past
This magazine was founded
It is called “POETRY”
We look back and stumble
Looking at what we think may be
The best critiques or
The most interesting characterizations

Which have the intellectual quality that
Amazed and continue to amaze
How many poems have to be narrowed
To the sensational few which we feel
Will endure the test of time?

Which conversations echoed best
The sentiment of the time and do
They still have relevance when
Compared to something
Written as recently as today
What was the era like?
When the then current material was presented

The fitting will be chosen
That is a safe bet
The picking of more than a few will be appropriate
Just because they were written by someone unknown
Who we now universally recognize
That goes without saying the blustery will say

There is but one reality and the truth of it is
Everything is very subjective
Selected pieces will state clearly
What most know but can’t express well
Eloquence has to be recognized
There is safety in numbers and
Many will agree that the selections are perfect
My door is always open

By Steve Haarman
September 7, 2012
Updated by Stanski on December 13, 2019 ^
^

Wintry days? This is winter
It is heaven; my blue heaven
Cold and covered with snow
Evergreens are white and green
The lichen are light green and white
This morning it was foggy
I thought of Old London Town,
Charles Dickens and the Christmas Story

Scrooge has not gone away
Either and more importantly have the angels
Good people are reacting to many needs
Many children will be happy
It is hard to think that there is hunger
In a society that seemingly has everything
Bud depression, drugs, alcohol and abuse
Have a way of striping dignity from human kind

Demons are at work in opposition to the angels
Close your eyes and think of some crazy rhythm
The melody and beat put an ease to your tenseness
No one is alone as we are all the sheep
Some have strayed and are lost
At nightfall they are the prey
Evil forces work when the midnight sun doesn’t set
Only you becomes only us as we huddle together

Little ladies knit mittens, scarves and stocking hats
Fruit cakes and cookies, jams and jellies abound
Churches are decorated complimenting the neighborhoods
Shop keepers are happy
Money is spent making up for the slow months
The snow from shoes mess up their foyers, but
A nearby mop is put to good use
How can you lose?

This is old fashion love of the holiday
The Birth of Jesus; celebrated in many ways
This is December; winter is here
The hardy hail; the weak stay indoors
Beauty is observed from every angle
Internal beauty is witnessed by many
It will be a happy season

Stanski
December 13, 2019 ^

My snow-blower breaks down
Not used to 24 inches of snow
Time to replace it because it is of no use
A new more powerful one will put on a show
Admired by everyone taking a look
Snow again, jump up and down
People wanting to run it
Takes me off the hook

Some will say I planned it this way
I suppose they can have their say
But am I the kind of fellow who
Would be having a Tom Sawyer day
Betting everyone they couldn’t
Do the work as well as me
Then watch them take turns
Even against my weak plea

Oh, they are out there showing off
The wind is blowing; this is tough stuff
No matter what I say or do
They keep up with their huff and puff
Snow keeps falling; the wind doesn’t die
I look out from the warm inside
When they look with hope at the window
I duck behind a curtain and hide

Another hour the drive is clear
Of the first half of the blizzard
Players are tired; looking gray
They slide along like a lizard
I know that soon it will be my turn
And shake my head and shudder
But then step up like heroes do
Knowing a good boat needs a rudder

Stanski
December 12, 2019 ^

The story is one, like many, in
the sense that it is hard to believe.
Someone new comes into my life,
presents her thoughts, dreams and poetic art.
Tells me how she would like to use it in
the oncoming days to inspire, challenge and affect lives.
After a while she leaves.

Her spirit is about me as I watch her walk away.
Somehow a little jealousy touches me
because she is such a beautiful person.
I look at her drawings, masterful renditions and
I think I am treading with angels.

The light feeling of envy leaves me.
I have been honored by her and
my being is filled with excitement.
Her ideas are immense and filled with possibilities.
I have been blessed.
Where has this wonderful person been?
Out of the blue, like a vision,
she appears to me.
I think of Cherubim and Seraphim and
am lifted to a new height.
I am full of anticipation and
consider all of the new potentials
her exhibition has brought.

I would never see her again.
My soul doth weep.
She suffers an untimely death.
An aneurism bursts in her brain and
the angels have taken her away.

My life will go on, but it will never be the same.
I know that being with her for just
the brief period has made me a better person.
I am fractured now, but will mend. My work will continue.
There are things to do and as I proceed
I will be talking with her,
knowing that she is standing by,
an angel in her own right.

Stansberry McKricken
November 30, 2015^

The denier was wrong and
acknowledged this to
anyone who wanted to listen.
There was no line up of interest so
I was left to bore people on my own.
The great maharaja was wrong.
Snow had fallen as predicted and
in the amount forecasted.
Ten inches is a lot of white
especially when packed by the wind.
My body was shaken.
The vibration of the snow-blower,
the stopping, changing gears,
changing direction of the snow flow,
running out of gas, and fixing breakdowns
plus the hand shoveling necessary
took the starch out of me.
I bought bird seed as
I went on about being wrong.
It happens so seldom that
I let people know when it happens so
they will believe I am human.
Buying seed helps this cause.
They know I am not bitter.
People will say that a storm is coming and
I reply, “There will be no snow, until its time.”
Most times I am right, but when
they point out all the drifts and accumulation,
I merely say, “It is time.”
I call that making a right out of a wrong.
Why not? It is just another blow,
and spring is on the horizon.

Stanislaus Kuperski
December 29, 2015^

This isn’t costing me a nickel
Just my time
a little paper
and this very nice pen
It’s a lot of fun.
jotting down thoughts
you can fail
and fail again
in coming up
with a good one
Nobody is out
one thin dime
I’ll keep writing
What can you lose
People keep coming by
They keep drinking my booze
They tell my I’m good
and I keep pouring
They wonder what I’m working on
I tell them a short story
about a friend
Then they wonder
if it’s about them
I say no
Then they go
It’s the end of the show
I think the total cost
was $7.40
but I still have
my pen
and paper
By Steve Haarman
on July 16, 2011