Steve Haarman

Days go by
One after another
I get lost 
They all seem like Saturday
It doesn’t matter
You can’t go anywhere
Nothing seems essential
Small business survival
Does not seem important
These merchants are nervous
Gritting their teeth
Precautions can be taken
They are smart people
Business people are that way
It is the customers who are careless
Hygiene and masks
Social distancing
All are important
All can be done
It is not a game
Survival of business is also not a game
Relief is needed
Our curve has flat lined
Time to open up
Just be prudent
Downstate is a different story
Population numbers are different
Death occurs every day
From all sorts of reasons
We cannot prevent death
We can be wise and use safeguards
Leaders try to make good decisions
One size has never fit all
This should be taken into consideration
We should put a halt on the blame game
It does nothing but cause apprehension
Disinformation is disservice
This is not politics
It is life and death
Small businesses are the victims
Open up
 
Stanski
April 19, 2020
 

 
The day is quiet
How unusual
It is a Friday
Sun is shining
Sky is blue
Wind is blowing
But not too cold
Life is surreal
An abstract painting
People hobbling along
Don’t know what to do
Kindness is apparent
People wanting to help others
Limited however by the rules
Some of which make sense
Others give cause to wonder
We have to wait it out
All areas are not the same
All surgeries are not the same
Some not allowed are very
Similar to ones that are allowed
We are trying to prevent death
Attributed to the Covid-19
Lives of the unborn are
Allowed to be taken
It is a bazaar world
A circus with many performances
Wild animals trained to dance
The holder of the whip is supreme
We will eventually flatten the curve
The normal deaths each day will continue
We will feel comfortable with this fact
We can avoid most pitfalls
Ring bells to celebrate truth
The show is over
Blamers will be quiet for a day
Then start pointing fingers
Why not?
What are epics for?
 
Stanski
April 18, 2020

The virus is apolitical
But the battle goes on
My side versus your side
Critical thinking will tell you
That there are no sides to this issue
The ranting goes on however
Who shall we blame?
The President acted while
Being impeached
The speaker at the same time
Was heralding Chinatown’s
Festival in San Francisco
The President is in Washington DC
With his illustrious Pandemic Team
While the Nancy is eating
Her chocolate ice cream
Some point out how the former
Pandemic Team was fired
They are up in arms, but
Cannot explain the reason why
Financial relief that was so critical
Was delayed for a measure of time
It wasn’t filled with enough pork
To keep the liberals feeling fine
So people suffered needlessly
Governors complained when
They were not prepared
Pointed blame everywhere
Did not consider their responsibility
Most of the blame was thoughtless
The President was vindicated
Time after time and still the blame
Came pouring through
It wasn’t China’s fault was claimed
Or the World Health Organization
Which pulls toward China
People expound their views
Many are just views
They have no meaning
Because they are not true
Look for the truth you doubters
It may surprise you
 
Stanski
April 17, 2020 ^
 

Snow is on the ground tonight
Distant clouds have a tinge of pink
The lake water is metal gray
There is no euphoria to sink

Old men are walking the woods
Trying to chart where mushrooms will rise
They are bearded and wrinkled
Walk with bent backs, but they are wise

Smelt should soon start their runs
Trout remain in deep water where
The river flows into the lake
The high water gives everyone a scare

I look up into the trees
There is no sunlight shining
The waves are small but persistent
Compared to yesterday’s more refining

Snow continues to fall
White against dull color
No rush for seeds and planting
We must wait for our sunflowers

My flamingos are standing steady
They are faithful through all seasons
Some wonder why they stay, but
To leave me they have on reason

The mother fox has left us
Her pups under our board walk thrived
I think she must have lost her life
Maybe just moved on; I hope she survived

We think of all the changes we see
Just a part of life’s wonder and mystery
We think of all the variances and know
Mother Nature has her own chemistry

We cannot prod; we patiently wait
We know things change be season
It hesitates and changes its timing
We acknowledge as men of reason

What can we do, what can’t we do
No one really has the answer
Before we blink or think even twice
It will be the season of Dasher and Prancer
 
Stanski
April 16, 2020
 
 

You walk through the woods in thought
Oblivious to any danger that may lurk
Meditation as though in dreamland
Is what you might call a perk
Away from it all; your quiet time
 
No voices heard, except your own
Should you be uttering response to
Your thoughts and of course
The lovely chatter of the forest itself
 
Precious moments in a selfish way
No time clock to punch, no tolls to pay
You could do this everyday
There are other voices calling
Not here for sure
But you sense your commitments
Knowing you cannot walk away from them
 
The state of bliss is not shattered
Integrity and acceptance
Components of your being
Allow this internal communication
Fulfillment is not taken lightly
 
Thanksgiving for accomplishment, as well
As for obstacles which have made you stronger
Are part of your manifest of gratitude for
The very gift of life
 
The woods may offer a divide
Whichever way is taken
Will be characterized by
Your astute awareness of this
 
Stanski
April 15, 2020

Suddenly I saw her
Wanted to be with her
Even in a fog
She would shine
Flowers had a fragrance
Enhanced by her presence
She loved her music
Could dance magically
With a real dancer
She led me on the dance floor
Told me what to do
Made me look good
People said how nice we looked
She liked me to sing
Or at least said she did
I was no Frankie
But she said I would do
Sometimes she would play
Danny Boy on the baby grand
I would sing it through
Then ask for more
I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen
Or My Blue Heaven
We had our favorites
She had the crazy rhythm
Was a real doozy
I still love her so
There were no goodbye blues
No sweet horns played
Just kind words
Then Amazing Grace and
How Great Thou Art
Then it was over and
Now just the memories
If I could be with you for just one hour
I would tell you how much I love you
And thank you just for being you
 
Stanski
April 15, 2020 ^
 

Day is born; the unknown lurks

Opportunities to absurdities

Could be in the works

Nothing known until it is lived

Starting out early day

To the shore and rippling waves

Hoping for the beauty of

The sun which has risen

Baffled by low clouds of mist

Taking away this vision

Closer observation throws me

Searching, searching but no horizon

Clouds obscure something rare

A wonder, oh, to be aware of

All these earthly gifts

You shake, you stare

No doubt at all that you care

There is no horizon

You walk away

After you look away

Trying to get a grip

No sun will break today

At least not from my view

Other aspects of life

Will have to prevail

You’ve been affected in a good way

It will have been a good day

Listen for song; there is none

Just for a while

Birds will come for the seed

Their song will crack your smile

Another gift and don’t forget

This early euphoria takes you to

A plane of no regret

Stanski

April 14, 2020 ^

I have nothing
And sit here waiting
Something will come into my mind
It always does
I look at a maple leaf that has been preserved
The number of colors I see is about sixteen
I think of the old song:
  You were sixteen
  My Village queen
  Down by the old mill stream
A great tune from yesteryear
 
I think of the number again
And of the different colors
Think about the masses of people
A random shot of them produces
At least sixteen ethnic groups
All of which make up who we are
The collected masses are amazing
We hear the word average
Line up sixteen people from any career
Let’s make them female teachers
Tall, short, stout, thin, long-legged
Long torsos, various hair styles and so on
How can anyone define average?
 
No one knows all the tribes of Indians
Even the number of tribes is ambiguous
Hundreds, even thousands could be the answer
Different ways of life, many similar, but no two alike
The majority of us know that there are Indians
Many know they have lost money in their casinos
They offer good food and beverage
They are courteous and welcoming
They have Pow-Wows every summer
Everyone is invited and encouraged to attend
The Indians know a little about their history
We know a little bit of the history also
Very few, if any, know the whole complex story
It’s an interesting collection of tales
 
Stanski
April 14, 2020 ^
 
 

 
Artists, twenty or more, sitting at tables
regulars have their one spaces
The room provided by ones who care
Longing for a breakthrough for those
Hoping for survival
 
Mostly homeless, they mingle together
Proud of their work; greet each other
Hoping customers will come through the door
 
The work room opens at nine and closes at three
The artists have to go their way
None really know the other’s plight
Some disappear, never to return
Others return, for tomorrow anyway
Always with hope for success and sales
 
Their work does sell, little by little
Patrons are recognized and clung to
Encouragement by default
A sale sometimes causing tears
 
Cigarettes for a day or week or alcohol and drugs
Can’t kick the habit; don’t even ask
Can’t keep a job, but they have this talent
I’ll try again soon; I’d like to clean up
Become a new moon, celestial speaking
Hope is always preponderate
 
Women do their work; their art
Some need needles for darning or knitting
Others need them too, for other purposes
I look them in the eye, wishing peace and health
They have learned to trust me just as they 
Have learned to watch out for each other
 
We are all God’s children; took different paths
Some more challenging only by chance
Think about walking in others shoes
Realize what they have to go through
Be responsible and do not judge
We are all brothers and sisters
And it is so true that we need each other

When I was needy you were there to help
When I was broken you stood by to mend
When down and out you knew what gifts to send
So proud to know you and call you my friend
 
Stanski
April 13, 2020 ^
 

Thirty pieces of silver
The reward for a betrayal
How many would say no?
Then hold their head high
No suicide by hanging
They have all they need
Still most are betrayers
We eat the forbidden fruit
Feel how we are above it all
We rejoice in glorious music
Which frees our minds of guilt
Deep within we all know
We have failed to bear the weight of
The cross that brought us salvation
 
We ignore the hungry and thirsty
Doing only the token giving
We open our mouths in slander
Without knowing the truth
We sneer at the addicted
Never extending a hand to help
Yes, we are betrayers
Our payment is pride and arrogance
We forget those who need us
Just because we think we are busy
Do we think about the book of records
Or pretend we are the chosen ones?
Thirty pieces of silver
Yes, we are the willing betrayers
 
Stanski
April 12, 2020 ^