Steve Haarman

I sit here with no thought
Lost in a poet’s maze
Not trying hard to find myself
Or a way out to peace
 
I am sitting in a place called nowhere
Nobody knows me or I them
No expectations may be made
I’ll crawl my way home again
 
I scratch out some words
They sound deep and absurd
I’ll put them in a different order
Maybe my frustration will be cured
 
My body is tense as I sit
Anyone could tell I am stoked
Black ink blots on white paper
My musing looks purple and choked
 
I do not know the time as
I sit here in a place not known
They are calling for a poet’s dance
I will definitely dress as a clown
 
Stanski
March 11, 2020^

I arrive and step out
Totally aware of
The sound; the song
A melody of nature
I hear it and feel humbled
 
Fragrance in the air
If of the earth, so familiar
I feel a rush, an urgency
There is smoothness
I must have more
 
I see the sky, the stars
Light of the moon, nearly full
I imagine a spiral staircase
Wish I could climb and reach
I want to run and stand still
 
Waves tinkle the ivory of the shore
The beat is authentic; lovely
A tune fills me up; lifts me
This is space; my space
The song will be repeated
 
I step in the sand
It is combined with snow and ice
The crunch is like percussion
Music that hypnotizes me
Oh, to embrace it all
 
It expands as my mind opens
The earthen musk defines me
Orchestration of sounds overwhelm
The visuals in the sky stagger
A tension runs through my center
 
This cannot end, but it will
Enjoy the moment, the hour, the night
Morning will make its assault
I will be ready then as
I am unable to hold any more
 
Stanski  
March 10, 2020 ^
 
 

The march was to the west
Manifest destiny
This was not a contest
It was a group affair
They looked grim
After days of start and stops
Unpolished
Treading on rough terrain
Under unforgiving sun
Laundry done in streams
Dried on wagons
Dripping water like the
Tears which filled their eyes
This was no outing
No picnic
There were the strong hearted
Always optimistic
Smelling victory
Sensing the end of the march
But there was no end
It went on and on
The languished fell
Too weak to continue
They accepted their fate
This was a known possibility
Still the effort was worth it
Now over for them
They did not think as losers or victims
They were winners
Helped open the door
Paved the road
The Santa Fe Trail
Heroes to all who would become dispirited
A way of life
We stand on their shoulders
Humbly
 
Stanski
March 10, 2020 ^

A man
Bent, a bent figure
Carved from life
I spotted him
Wonder took over
Who is he and
Why is he as he is?
Would a picture taken
Capture his essence
Immortalize him
He shows no pain
He wanders into traffic
Which slows for him
Horns blow
He ambles
His destination?
No one knows
Other than him
He loses himself
Into the crowd
Vanishes
But not from my thoughts
Life goes on
It unfolds in formidable ways
Blessed are the meek
 
Stanski
March 10, 2020 ^

 
 
 
Life is hard
Always tired
It’s never easy

Early morning cries
Late night blues
The music is lonely
It offers no clues

Stays out of groove
Whatever the season
Is there any reason?
 
Can’t face the truth
Nothing new here

Real thing is
Would rather play
Save reality
For another day
 
No use talking
Quit the squawking

Won’t do any good
Never would
Never did
Never will
 
 
 
Stanski
March 9, 2020 ^
 

It is so sad
People retaliate when
You do not agree with them
They forget about respect
 
They do not think
But depend on others
Who agree with them
To make their claims
 
They are a sad people
Not acquainted with critical thinking
Love the fake news media
Believe everything that is said
 
Yes, a sad people
Denial is their middle name
They will awake when it is too late
Then their sadness will be profound
 
Truth will stare at them
But their eyes will be closed
Just as their minds to reason
They will fail to open up.  How sad
 
Stanski
March 9, 2020 ^

In a turbulent world we see it all 
Five hundred million spent on a campaign
Death at the U.S. Embassy in Tunisia 
Over three hundred murders so far in 2020 in Tijuana, Mexico 
 
Searches for the lowest vacation rates. 
I think of the advertisements for Barbados
This in the midst of the Corona Virus scare
News announcers speaking of sanctuary cities,
Almost endorsing them
Criminals caught, tried and released only to return to their criminal life
 
Jamaica is selling pleasure vacations.  Life goes on
It is what they do for a living, for jobs and an income 
They present peaceful living which is good 
 
I think of the millions of refugees worldwide, starving and thirsty;
Separated by default from infants and young children
Starving to death at the rate of 18 per day
I ache at the sight of churches being destroyed by bombs or fire
 
Religious beings being slaughtered while
Vacationers enjoy food, drink and evening fires around a cozy pit 
The images of having fun are enticing and at the same time
Topics of sex traffic, drug traffic and illegal aliens are upsetting 
 
We hear of the luxury vacations, then threats to Supreme Court Justices 
We get excited about fun on the sunny islands
Then upset about online sex predators 
We hear crimes are increasing; misery in the country of Venezuela
Tornado damage and death in central Tennessee 

Cruise ships are being quarantined for weeks
A six story hospital for the quarantined collapses 
Life goes on and people plan
They have earned their respite and we do not blame them
 
We worry about not having the ingredients for essential drugs
And other items of necessity and then listen to
Political fighting, accusations and lying
The irony of it all
 
Stanski
March 8, 2020 ^

I am not a dark angel
But I am an angel
No flamboyancy
No flutter
Staying quiet is good
Going about my business
Creating no waves
Slow and steady
 
I have germanous seeds in my soul
To spread these around is a goal
They are seeds of goodness
Bring about joy and happiness
Convincing people of their good
Is a very arduous task
One I take seriously
Will never give up on
 
I am careful, cultivated and inward
Insolvency is always on my mind
I put my trust into the divine plan
I have always been an outsider
My record speaks volumes
In my own opinion
I see evidence of my toil
Have the feeling of floating
 
I am liberated, inspired and fulfilled
My life moves on day by day
I look not for recognition or praise
Self-knowledge is sufficient
Today to me is tomorrow and yesterday
I gather and wing forward
Striving is not an appropriate word
The doing is a natural part of me
 
I cannot pursue or recruit
I am not appeasing or scheming
Angels are not like that
I am in the damp, drizzly
November of my soul                                                   
I will move on – a new station                                   
People will not miss me
It will be as if I was never here

Stanski
March 8, 2020 ^

 

 
These foolish things
Remind me of you
Where are you
Now that you’ve gone
 
I knew you went away
That you had to leave us
The dreaded disease
Was just too much
These things do catch up
 
My broken heart lies here
Waiting, wishing and whimpering
My longing remains as I look about
I see your things
My heart goes tug, tug and tug
 
Your picture; your rings
All these things near
And you so far
Away from me
Forever for now
 
I can only hope
That this is all a dream
And believe you’ll be back
I have learned
That when I wake up
Reality will speak
You are gone for good
 
These crazy thoughts
How foolish
I’m foolish
And alone
 
 
Stanski
March 7, 2020 ^
 

Memory from a trip I took

Today after the sunshine
We had some rain
And the sky turned
To a lovely medium gray
 
Before too long
The sun broke through
Giving us a complete rainbow
 
It began
 
As I looked out my motel window
I saw it above the parking lot of a McDonald's
It curved upward very high and then down
Bending toward the ground
 
It was
 
About a football field away
Where it slanted
Into the gasoline pumps
At a Standard Gas Station
 
Unfortunately
 
There were no pots of gold
The vision itself
Was the treasure
 
But
 
It vanished
Within five minutes
Just left a wonderful memory
 
Stanski
March 7, 2020 ^