Saturday, June 27, 2015

PRAY FOR INSPIRATION

PRAY FOR INSPIRATION

Pray for inspiration,
There are murderers at large,
Pray for safety, pray for strength,
For all of those in charge.

Pray for wisdom, pray for solace,
It's a long hard road to hoe,
Whether scattered mercies,
Or those that fall like manna,
Gently like the snow,
Softly from the skies,
Pray for inspiration,
Before the light it fades and dies.

Pray to God for inspiration,
There's very little left,
We've sent it fleeing to the mountains,
Where it sits and moans bereft.
Desecrating the fountains where it perches.
We scared it half to death,
When we shot up all the churches.

Pray for a scrap of good intention,
Pray to finish with an honorable mention,
As you near the finish line,
Numb your pain with a shot to the brain,
Of whiskey or the strongest wine.

Pray for peace, my fellow travelers,
The will to carry on,
Pray to see another sunrise,
With your weary, jaded eyes,
A new and shining dawn.
Close your eyes and feast,
On some great precious treat.
Forego the sin and begin again,
Seek forgiveness sweet.

Pray for inspiration,
And an end to sword and shield,
Cool your heels, be a man that feels,
Like a pilgrim face the east,
Fight the dreaded beast,
Labor in the vineyard sweet,
Pray for inspiration,
To rebuild on agile feet,
This tender city we once knew,
This golden hopefulness we slew.

Pray for inspiration, for man, for woman,
For black and for white,
To heal this large and gaping wound,
We shall escape this long cruel night,
Find our way to glory, someday soon.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, June 20, 2015

LEPRECHAUNS

LEPRECHAUNS

For my partner it's a day tour,
Steeped in ancient history,
The fabled Giant's causeway.
The stunning cliffs of Moher.
The old familiar mystery
Of a land rich to explore.
For me another hotel room,
Nothing less and nothing more.

My only request strong coffee each morning,
And a sandwich each day for my strength.
Music to play on my Amazon cloud,
To enjoy and indulge in at length.
In my mind I visit Yeats's grave,
The shores of Connemara,
If, alas, my muscles would behave,
I'd be more than just a stowaway.
Salmon and eggs at the Bittersweet Cafe,
Lunch at the Queen of Tarts, 
Delectable, divine displays of the culinary arts.

Days of repose and music at the Harding Hotel,
Leisurely I passed the time,
And listened to the Christchurch bells
As on the hour they chimed.
The drinking far into the night
At Darkey Kelly's pub.
The sounds of live music playing,
In the din of raucous clubs.

Still this is Ireland, land of rainbows,
With pots of gold in between,
And it's only fair that while here on this green,
Leprechauns should dance in my dreams.

Leprechauns in floppy hats,
Jumping like Jehoshaphat,
Wake up, they say, the day is yours,
Do with it what you may,
Whether rainbow seeker or daytime sleeper,
The lessons are yours for the learning,
The tide of history turning.

Leprechauns preening in front of mirrors,
Leprechauns drawing ever nearer,
Leprechauns asking what-cha doin', 
Skating on the road to ruin,
Leprechauns asking with a nod and a wink,
Leprechauns leaping in the bathroom sink.

I too am a leprechaun, leaping in one place,
These fantasies are of my making,
A Parkinsonian with a frozen face,
Whether still or occasionally shaking..
My only request to be left alone,
With a sandwich, my coffee and tunes,
Still this is Ireland and at night in my dreams,
The leprechauns lightly leap over the moon.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, June 13, 2015

KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

At Dulles Airport so many friendly travelers,
Curious to know our story, where we're headed, where we're from,
A grandmotherly type, a Dr. Ruth lookalike,
Headed for a wedding in Paris, with a stopover in Dublin,
Anxious for a pub crawl and a night of harmless fun.

I was brought to this place in a wheelchair,
By a kind and attentive man,
My stutter he seemed to understand,
I'm hoping he's paid well for his time,
Putting folks at ease,
With extra points for interpreting.
My broken Parkinsonese.
His humming and good humor
Make me less self-conscious,
Make the trip a zip, bordering on burdenless.

Then when I try to stand to walk to the boarding area,
I find myself starting to fall,
A young man from India comes to my rescue,
A man I've never met at all.
He takes my hand in his and guides me by the arm,
Leads me to the entrance of the plane,
With a kind of old world charm.
His concern it seems instinctual, like something born and bred,
Something drilled into him long ago, or from some chivalrous book he read,
And memorized each page, at a very tender age.

Where once I would have shunned the help,
With a motherlode of protestation,
I'm now at the stage where I disavow the dangers,
And have come to believe in the kindness of strangers.
It rings in my ears, seems ever so true,
The kindness of strangers, the kindness of you.

Then when we touch down in Ireland, 
A young and amiable college student
Pilots me in my wheelchair.
Past the point of teenage cool,
He asks my partner where he's going, what's his itinerary,
Leads me right to the baggage carousel,
Then to the money exchange machine.
It is there that we part with a prayer in my heart,
And an Irish blessing for this kind young man,
For my partner who loves me and understands,
Shouldering all of our luggage,
My needs and limitations as a traveler in a strange land.

The scene replays over and over, on our way back home,
A red headed Irishman who spoke to nearly everyone,
While piloting my wheelchair through the Dublin airport,
Lively and delightful, ever the good sport.
Back at Dulles the same royal treatment, 
This web of kindness weaved,
So much so that I believe,
I've arrived at the stage where I disavow the danger,
Put all my trust in the kindness of strangers,
It rings in my ears, seems ever so true,
The kindness of strangers, the kindness of you.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Friday, June 5, 2015

STARK RAVING MAD

STARK RAVING MAD

One of these very days,
In the not too distant future,
My mind a bit left hanging,
By some nasty stubborn suture,
That some hapless doctor left behind,
So tragically and sad.
It is on such a very day,
I shall go stark raving mad.

You will know this when you see it,
All my cunning to employ,
I will take on the persona
Of a gloating, grinning cowboy.
With no compunction or irony,
I will become quite rowdy,
Loose with my lasso I shall be,
From my lips a chorus of howdy
Shall issue forth quite loudly,
And I shall bare my nasty teeth
That I have long kept hidden,
And they shall form a sight to see,
An obscene gap toothed grin.

It is not that I disdain the cowboy,           
They are some of my best friends.
I'm practically on a first name basis
With three or four of them.
But in my past life I could not pull off,
The smiling and how do's,
Riding the range seemed all too strange,
And its charms I did refuse.

But once you see the teeth you'll know,
And my garish cowboy hat,
The slides down to obscure the features.
Of the homeliest of God's creatures,
You shall know it straight, right off the bat.
Much worse I'll wear my hat indoors,
My cowboy boots to bed,
You'll really start to gather
That I'm a bit touched in the head.

But I'll really be quite harmless,
Kind of a buffoon,
Although I may just condescend,
To shoot up a pretend saloon.
Do not be disheartened though,
Or dare to cowardly weep.
For the only violence I will entertain,
Will be in my disordered sleep.
I'll be harmless in my turning and tossing,
In my sleep may even take up flossing,
But not too much so as not to destroy
The horror to bequeath,
To the crowds that fall victim to my wiles,
And the stupid smiles from my insipid teeth.

Cowboy boots, check,
Demented toothy grin,
The unrestrained howdies
Will issue forth quite loudly,
My buddy and my friend.
it is then you'll know with certainty,
That my fortune has overturned,
It is then you'll know of my stubborn suture,
And how cautery can burn.
It is then you'll know the end is near and you can be quite glad,
That I have unreservedly gone stark raving mad.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT The stars in your eyes, love, I tried them on for size. They shone as bright as diamonds, how they mesmerized. And when...