Like this and this, the following piece was included in my writers’ group’s monthly newsletter. However this one is not a music-impression poem. In fact, I don’t really consider it a poem–more an essay about oneself. It was very well received, not just by other writers, but by family members. And I think it quite appropriate for a blog post, since it reveals alot about me. You might want to read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, before reading this–or just dive in. Either way, I hope you enjoy it.
A Personal Application of Ecclesiastes 3 : 1-8
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
I was born, the last of four children, in 1966.
I expect to die, a very happy old man, in 2054.
I planted a bamboo root in my front yard–it took years to sprout, but is now spreading beautifully.
I often have to pluck up vines, planted by nature, that are growing into the heat-pump unit in my backyard.
I kill roaches, without hesitation–even if I have to use my bare hand.
I once healed a lizard caught in a roach glue-trap. Using water, I freed it from the glue, then treated its wounds with hydrogen peroxide. I don’t use glue traps anymore.
I broke down, and was admitted to a psychiatric hospital in November, 1985. I’ve had to build up myself again, ever since.
I weep sometimes while praying.
I laugh at Cheers reruns, no matter how many times I’ve seen them.
I still mourn the loss of Mr. Vogel, my best friend ever, though he died in 1984, at age 84–and of my Grandpa ____, the best grandfather a boy could have, who died in 1974.
When I dance fast, I prefer to dance alone. When I dance slowly, I hold my partner close, to feel her warmth.
I cast away stones in my front yard, that come from the street.
I always gathered stones together, as substrate for my tarantula, Charlotte, before she died.
I embrace my dad now–though I was brought up to refrain from embracing him, to just shake hands. My brother-in-law, Tom, introduced us to embracing–having gotten the idea from Promise Keepers (a Christian men’s movement).
I got a double-CD of Puccini’s opera, Turandot, last month. With the exception of Bizet’s Carmen, I’ve never heard an opera with so much melody throughout.
I lost a job as a master control operator at a TV station in 1989, on the second day. The reason? I overslept!
I keep far too much stuff in my house–always thinking I’ll need it someday, even if just for parts.
I cast away all my fat-clothes to charity, having shed over 100 pounds in 2003–big mistake, as you can see!
I always rend junk-mail before putting it in the kitchen garbage can–I don’t know why.
I never sew anything, even the smallest tear–too damned tedious. I leave that up to my mom!
I’m learning to keep silence, in groups, and listen more–it’s a lifelong process.
Public speaking has been a hobby of mine since the 11th grade. In fact, it’s easier for me to speak to an audience of strangers than with an acquaintance one-on-one.
I love language–especially if it’s foreign to me. I’ve never heard a language (including my own) that wasn’t beautiful, in its unique way–particularly when spoken by a woman.
I hate injustice–and there’s plenty of injustice to hate. The motivational speaker, Zig Ziglar, says fair play seeks what is right, not who is right. And the cause of all injustice may be people seeking who is right, not what is right.
While awake, I’m always at war–even when thinking of peace. While asleep, I’m always at peace–even when dreaming of war.