I was sitting in the White Horse Pub in San Francisco, waiting for my daughter to get off her shift as bar tender and wait staff in the dining area. I had just flown into Oakland Airport, took the shuttle bus to the Pub. The shuttle driver had allowed me to sit in the front seat. Getting out, I inadvertently bumped the lock switch and locked the luggage in the Van, motor running etc. Poor man didn’t have a spare key. He had to get his boss to come from Daley City with a key. As I waited, I felt a poem coming on. So here it is.
If my life is but a day,
The afternoon is waning.
The evening’s gulls sail through the mist,
Time’s momentum … gaining.
As the sun dips slowly down
It sends arrays of light
Fills horizon’s clouds with pink
To ward away the night.
How do I feel about this time?
Wanting still to give?
I slowly slip to join the twilight,
Wanting so to live.
I reach back but can’t retrieve
The days that have gone by.
I can only reminisce
And breathe nostalgic sigh.
Concurrent things do settle in …
A sort of letting go …
Accepting peacefully “what is”
And there I too can grow.
Is it that beauty comes with age?
The quiet gentle knowing?
Facing weakness with great grace
Is it the best of growing?
A streak of absent mindedness,
A painful here and there.
Ah, yes! Like birth, this death must come …
We must begin … prepare.
Relax and watch the growth and learn …
Serenity sublime.
For we are not descending here,
But instead we climb.
Towards we know not what, but trust
That Chaos has a plan.
Our lives the blueprint, Birth to Death …
The making of a Man.
Carol J. Garvin
Aug 04, 2011 @ 10:16:57
“The quiet gentle knowing” is just the right way of expressing the different perspective that age gives us.
I linked here from your Twitter post, Marion… happy to find another PNW writer in the blogosphere. 🙂
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Marion Spicher
Aug 04, 2011 @ 22:59:33
Carol, hello! And thank you for letting me know how you found the poem. Like many writers, I am time challenged, and it is lovely to hear that a twitter post brought you here! I’m heading over to check everyone’s blog as soon as I post this reply.
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Jimmy
Aug 03, 2011 @ 18:56:40
While my afternoon isn’t waning (I’m trying hard to block the mid-day sun with splayed fingers), I appreciate your point of view. The chaotic plan unfolds and we begin to accept that whatever is, is right.
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Marion Spicher
Aug 04, 2011 @ 00:33:40
“The chaotic plan unfolds and we begin to accept that whatever is, is right.” Now that’s poetry! Thanks Jimmy.
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Marcia
Aug 03, 2011 @ 18:36:51
Beautiful poem, Marion! You are very good at it and maybe should consider compiling an anthology.
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Marion Spicher
Aug 04, 2011 @ 00:36:31
A poetry Anthology. I’ll consider your suggestion! Thank you. If I could just turn 24 hours days into … well, no … wouldn’t want to change the system. Universe is fine the way it is.
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Lavada Dee
Aug 03, 2011 @ 08:39:33
This is simply beautiful. I don’t read much poetry but . . . after reading this I may start. Have you named it?
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Marion Spicher
Aug 03, 2011 @ 17:40:50
Laveda, thanks for stopping by. The name is “Reflections in the White Horse Pub” … grin … not very indicative of the content. But the poetry muse visits at strange times and in strange places! A neat feeling.
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Laurie Ryan
Aug 03, 2011 @ 07:53:59
Wow, Marion. That’s an awesome poem. Well said and, in my estimation, wwell worth the locked van door. You bring tears to my eyes. Of course, the fact that I’m sitting at a B&B watching an idyllic scene very much like your sunset (excpet it’s morning), helps. You have a great talent for poetry. Have you ever published in that genre?
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Marion Spicher
Aug 03, 2011 @ 17:37:42
No, Laurie, haven’t tried to publish poetry. Most of it deals with spiritual subjects a bit out of the box but a few are posted on my website under “poetry”. Your bed and Breakfast sounds wonderful. Enjoy!
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trisandra
Aug 03, 2011 @ 06:53:40
Awww, very poignant.
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Marion Spicher
Aug 03, 2011 @ 17:43:24
Thanks for stopping by! I checked you out and sure enough, you are someone I know and love … as in a daughter! Hugs.
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