Monday, December 19, 2016

My Own Game

My Own Game

Alone,
Lost in a sea of Humanity
Will somebody tell me why?

Nobody ever seems to notice me.

Jostled and bumped, time and again
Not one, oh, I’m sorry, or excuse me, from them.
Look, at their faces, do you see what I see?
Not a single person, is looking at me.

Could it be, that I don’t really exist?
No, I exist, because I can feel the pain
So why, when I cry out for help,
Is it always, as if, it is all in vain.

Am I special, in some way?
Or am I simply, just so plain?
That no one notices me.
No one knows my name.

Wait, I’m beginning to like it this way.
A little more so, with each, passing day.
To be someone, completely different,
To play, alone, in my own game.

Still awash in a sea of humanity,
Jostled, and bumped, time and again.
No longer, does it bother me,
For you see, I’m alone, alone in my own game.

©December 19, 2016
Richard Nurse

All Rights Reserved.

Photo by Alex Pragor
Google Images

Friday, December 9, 2016

Solitude - A New Poem written for a Prompt

Solitude


Oh beautiful place of solitude
So serene
So still
Let me lose myself in you

A place to think
A place to pray
A place to cry
A place to remember

Let me sit on the shore
As the seasons change
Touches of gold mingle
In with the chartreuse hues

A place to think
A place to pray
A place to cry
A place to remember

A painting by the artist
Known only as Mother Nature 
Reflected by a liquid mirror
Provided for her use, by the creator

A place to think
A place to pray
A place to cry
A place to remember

A place to sit and watch
As chipmunks scurry to and fro
Cheeks stuffed full as puffballs
Heading to the winter food bank

Oh beautiful place of solitude
So serene
So still
Let me lose myself in you

©December 8, 2016
Richard Nurse

Photo courtesy of +Laughing Waters, 
Moderator for the Google Community POETS The Original

If you enjoy this poem or any of the other poems that I have published on this blog, please feel free to check out some of my other books of poetry.  "Words from the Heart" available in both e-format and paperback,   Poems by an Antique "Selected works... Available in e-format only through Amazon, "So Said the Tree" A forever free publication in e-formats through Google and Smashwords.com.


Friday, December 2, 2016

Time - A poem for all who battle illness

Time, the title of this weeks poem was inspired by a photographic prompt of a young girl painting a butterfly while she wages a battle against leukemia. I have elected not to show her picture, but anyone who has brought a daughter into this world, or enjoyed a granddaughter at approximately 5 with blonde hair, blue eyes, a ruffled painters smock, and as much paint on her as there is on the paper. Should be able to see the image without looking at a picture.

Time

Time to paint
Time to play
Time for memories
Time for tears
Time for joy
Time for fear
Time for the good cells
To beat back the bad

Time to live
Time to love
Time to laugh
Time to cry
Time to sleep
Time to heal
Tim for the good cells
To beat back the bad

Time is on your side
Time is against you
Time is your friend
Time is your enemy
Time is your weapon
Time is your defense
Time for the good cells
To beat back the bad

©November 30, 2016

Richard Nurse

Sunday, November 27, 2016

A New Poem - "Always Different Never the Same"

 
A piece inspired by visiting the M. C. Escher Exhibit at the Memorial Art Gallery in Rochester, NY. I cannot post the image, due to copy write restraints, but if you google Plane Filling 2, M.C. Escher you can view the image.

Always Different Never the Same
(Inspired by “Plane Filling 2” by M.C. Escher)

Everything different
Nothing the same
Similar but different
Even on the same plane.
Eyes, each one different
No two ever the same,
A Few looking forward,
While most look up, sideways or down.

Faces of creatures,
Some known, others never seen
Some big, some little, some in between,
Alternating in shades of black and white
Once again, no two are ever the same.
All living creatures says your mind at first glance,
Blended together, to fill the entire space.

My mind cries out. WAIT
There is one, which is out of place.
It does not breathe, eat, or sleep
Like the rest of the images,
Which fill every space on each plane.
Although it can be made to sing
When caressed by the proper hands.
Could that be why?
M. C. Escher chose a guitar,
To be the only, non-living thing.

©November 25, 2016
Richard Nurse

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Three Images

Three Images

The image, the boat, the phrases,
Blended together they did their thing.
First, they turned the key,
Then, they let out the clutch,
Finally, they put my idling mind into gear.
Bringing to life the time machine                           
That I keep parked, third coil on the left,
Ready to escape, back in time,
Whenever desire to go back might arise.

Even though the years keep taking their toll
I can still control how far back I want to go.
Three different times have stepped forward
Moving others to the back, as they take
The left, right, and center positions,
In the forefront, of my now, turbulent mind.
Each one fits perfectly with the list of prompts.
With the exception of the Valley of the Wind
And, I am betting I can even fit that in.

So I am opting for all three, told in poetic prose.
Feel free to climb aboard my time machine with me.
Ready, all set, then it is off we go to three places see.
Three places with boats on the water and love in the air.

The first stop is on a river, almost a thousand miles long.  One that has heard many a Native American song, one that has an island or more for every mile it is long.  The time is before 1978, a spontaneous getaway, no children yet in the way. With the pretense of fishing, a boat rented for the day.   We found ourselves in a backwater bay, surrounded by tall maples, oaks and pines shielding us from view, while beavers worked at felling a poplar or two.  The morning grew hot, as did we two, so when I peeled off my shirt, my wife did to. My reaction was swift and visible to, with a laugh she said, “Now that won’t do.” Then, immediately, taking off the rest of hers, followed by my clothes too. I remember a beaver tail slapping as we became consumed, I don’t think he liked the waves we were making in his backwater lagoon. It was not the only time; we lay in each other’s arms that day. Two countries treated to similar displays, in much the same way, as were the waters of a very un-secluded bay. All in all, a memorable day, yet for some reason, I can’t remember if any fish got in the way.

I hope you are all still with me, at least those of a similar mind, for it is time once again to head back in time.  To an island in the Pacific, one where the dolphins do play, not the biggest or the smallest, yet it’s the one known the best. You’ll find it fourth to the left of where the goddess Pele does play.  The island known for a diamond upon its head, the one oft remembered for a day when planes came through a spot known as Kole Kole Pass. I knew that I could get it in, a line about the valley of wind. For on this island, is an amazing place called the Pali Pass, where the winds from the valley rise straight up into the air. A place, where one must use care, for both hats and skirts, freely rise into the air. Follow the LikeLike Highway down from the pass to a canal that runs straight and true, between mountains made of concrete and steel colored with a rainbow of hues. The boats on this canal, back in circa 1973, were round. Boats with no bows, boats with no sterns, some kept them going straight, but most made them spin round and round. Add the effects of an exotic drink or four, and many a boat had no one in view. Blend together, alcohol, passion, and spin, and exotic becomes erotic as bodies meshed together with the force of the spin. No one complains, no one seems to care, but in Hawaii, in circa 73, sex, though often enjoyed in the open, was not always free, and if you weren’t careful she could be a he.

It’s time to board my time machine again, to go back a bit further both to the east and in time, to a river in a desert back in 1969. Though they call it a lake, it is still a river, just one now stopped by a dam. This body of water; deep and pristine, at the time, known for its white circle of lime. Still in the middle of the desert at that time, one could go out at night and not see a bright light of any kind. Unless one were to look off to the west, where the sky seemed to glow, from the power the water through the dam let flow. Still out on the lake the darkness did reign, sucking in any light, a big black hole with a ring of white.  A perfect place, to spend a hot summer night; locked in the arms of your love, covered only with a blanket of stars. With nobody to see, and no one to care, free to do whatever you care. 

Allow me to step back out of my time machine,
For my three images, I have allowed all to see.
I can’t recreate them; time has taken its toll,
On both the author, and the waters that flow.
Especially, the river, where once shimmered a great lake,
A lake growing smaller every day, while cash registers ring.
The water, now on the other side of the dam you see
Used to make a desert, grow fruit for you and me.

Thank God, these three images, still live on,
Stored away, safely in my mind’s eye for me,
Ready for me. Whenever or whichever, I desire to see.

©November 18, 2016
Richard Nurse

 This poem was written in response to a prompt based on the picture below. Thank you to +Laughing waters for allowing the use of this photo.







Wednesday, November 9, 2016

My Crystal Ball

My Crystal Ball


My crystal ball rolled away today
Why it left? Shit, I don’t know.
Where it is going is anybody’s guess
All I know right now is that I am in a mess.
For now, I must live each day
With a mind, now, basically, blind.
What is past is now forever in the past
What might lie ahead, for me,
No longer, resides in my head.
My vision of the future, for now is gone.

Ensnared in a dimension, not known of before
A place in time, where the future is not yours to see
For how long, god I would so love to know.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, just for a day or a week.
Or if my luck is less, a month or a year
Those lengths of time, I feel I can survive.
Ah, but, what if it goes on for longer?
I have no sure answer, of what I will do,
For I no longer have, a vision, to look into.
I fear life with no vision, not A future to hold
Out front, like a carrot, or bangle of gold.


No impetus to put, one foot before of the other.
To begin a search, one, which may never end
To follow the course of my crystal ball,
As it rolled away, into the glen.
My ball, though it’s a crystal sphere
It’s tinted blue, from its 200+ years.
It has been mine, on and off now,
For some sixty-nine years, and, yes,
It has been known to steer me wrong.
With that said, today is the day
I’ve decided, to just let it roll.
No, this time, I’ll not chase it down,
No, this time, it can continue on its way.
Yes, it can find someone brand new,
Someone new, for it to steer wrong.


©November 9, 2016
Richard Nurse
All Rights Reserved
















Wednesday, November 2, 2016

THROUGH THE YEARS - A POEM

Through the Years,

A Collection of Poetry and Verse.



An inspirational thought,
In truth, an idea, for a book.
A pondering which allowed,
This rambling collection,
Of introspections and reflections,
Leak out of my brain in verse.
Some, forever written down,
While others remain in memory,
Shared, with, but, a select few. 


Until this day, a day of change,
A day, when the decision was made.
To reexplore, my catalog of works
Works of my poetry, both old and new,
Ordered in no particular way,
A list of titles, long enough,
For a book, or maybe two.


My, still growing list,
Of therapeutic consultations,
For which, I paid no fee.
Consultations between two nurses,
Neither of which has a psychiatry degree.
Yet, comprise the frequented practice,
Of ‘Myself and Me’.


Inspired by a life,
One that knows the elements well.
No, not those on the periodic table,
Though he knew them as well.
No, these elements have no formal table,
Excepting one, upon which sits a flickering candle
Set between the couch and chair,
A stage setting, Sigmund knew so well.
Elements that span the spectrum of human life,
Could well create a new periodic table,
Titled the Table of Emotions Felt In Life.


 While no chart like this,
At present that does in fact exist.
Who’s to say, one could eventually exist.
If it did, might it not have three parts?
Parts like Golden, Normal, and Living Hell.
Which emotions might be listed?
Within the parts that number three?
Some are easy, such as Love, and Good Health,
Which, for most, anchor the left,
While Hatred and Bigotry
Weigh down the far to the right.
It is those in the middle,
Which are often find hard to define. 


Look at Joy and Sorrow,
Normal emotions felt by all.
Yet, they tend to drift and change direction,
Like a snowflake upon a January wind.
One day on the left, the next on the right,
Then straight down the middle,
Where they catch one by surprise,
Taking away one's sight,
By releasing a river of tears,
Cascading out, with no discern,
Whether, the eyes be happy or sad.


There will be no written test this day,
For there is no printed chart.
The Table of Emotions Felt In Life,
An ever shifting, evolving affair.
Traveling on the expressway,
Between one’s brain and heart.
Living each day, the only exam,
One for which, it’s useless to cram,
Since it begins mutating
With the first breath, one takes.
Refreshed and new, each morning we wake.


There is a lesson, some say,
One, which might help on given day,
A lesson much like the test,
It morphs each day into a lesson new,  
A lesson specific, for a day that’s new.
The lessons, yes, they can be renewed.
To use once again, on a far, distant day.
The secret to being able to renew,
Is listening to the advice, that spews,
From the partners at ‘Myself and Me’…
Along, with an occasional assist, from ‘You’.



©October 31, 2016
Richard Nurse










Wednesday, October 26, 2016

I Lied Today - A New Poem


I Lied Today



If I lied today, would anybody know?
I lied yesterday; did you even know.
Hell, I’ve told so many lies, over my sixty plus years
At times, I’m no longer sure, if what I tell is actually true.

Some would say it is a bad thing, to tell so many lies.
Yet, I can look them in the eye, and say, “You’re Wrong.”
They might laugh and say, “See you just lied again.”
My reply to them, with a smile you see, is the single word “Wrong”.

For, I am a writer of fiction, of stories, both short and long.
Thus, I have to let my mind run free, to create just the right lie for thee.
One; which, I can, and do, keep telling repeatedly, I must keep it alive.
For, the better the lie, the better the story; contained within the book.

My lie, must compel you to believe; that I’m telling you; the truth.
Like a con man, that makes his living; working the dark back streets.
I have to make you want to believe; the story I place before your eyes.
To, take a spot; right next to me. To, become a character, a part in my lie for me.

I can lie with the best, I’ve done so for years.
The secret to telling a lie, is to find the open and willing ears,
The secret, to writing fiction; a book filled with well-crafted lies,
Is to keep the lie evolving, for the readers have open and willing minds.


©October 3, 2016
Richard Nurse
All Rights Reserved










Thursday, October 20, 2016

Image

This weeks selection for my Reflections in Verse Series

Image

I hold and image within my head.
A special image of peace and tranquility
An image of a beautiful rising sun
An image of a new day just begun

The globe isn’t visible, the lights just begun
still below the horizon, rays rising like a fan
Ribbons of light signaling the end of the night.
The birth of a new day, emerging from night.

The rays light the tops of distant hills.
Slowing drifting down into the valley,
The ball still tucked behind a hill
Not ready to go to full bright.

I sit and enjoy the dawns early light
So peaceful and quiet, not a thing in site.
No pressure, or stress, just relaxation and rest
This image, I think I'll keep, to help balance my head.

© February 26, 2014

Richard Nurse

Monday, October 10, 2016

Shoulder Chatter




Shoulder Chatter


Where have you been?
I am not sure that i Know.
Why have you been there?
I am not sure that I even care.
Where are you going next?
Where ever my heart tells my feet to go.
Then how will you know when you are there?
I guess it will depend on where there is.
Is not your quest, valuable time wasted?
no quest for knowledge is ever wasted.
Which trail will you take, the left or the right?
The left might be safer, yet my heart is leading my feet right.
Wait, are you going to travel, alone, at night?
Yes I will begin this journey tonight,
For I am never truly alone, am I Right.
You are welcome to join us, myself and right,
So make your decision now, my left shoulder friend,
I am about to take, this journey’s first step of the night.

©July 30, 2015
Richard Nurse
All Rights Reserved.










Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Post # 1 - Three Choices

Author's note:  This is the first edition of this blog.  I tend to use poetry when I am in a reflective mode, or depressed.  I hope you enjoy the works that I offer.  Please feel free to leave me a comment, or contact me @ AuthorRDN@rochester.rr.com


Three Choices

“Excuse me good sir, but could you tell me, the quickest way to the bridge?”
“Of course, you may, but may I inquire as to why, you need directions to the bridge?”
“Certainly, but since you already did, what matter is it to you?”
“The matter sir; is that I need to know, over what type of bridge you want to go.”
“It really doesn’t matter you see, I’ve lost my way, and I simply wish to leave.”
“I already knew you were lost sir, for there is more than just one bridge here.”

“How was I to know, I’ve never been here before, to which bridge should I go?”
“May I ask how you got here sir, for the fact we are on island is quite clear?”
“I have no idea how I got here sir, I was alone and lost, and suddenly you appear!”
“Ah, but it is you who out of the night appeared. I’ve been on this corner for neigh on twenty years.”
“Twenty year on the same corner.  What strange power holds you to this spot of ground?”
“The sign above says it all, you at the corner of Lost N’ Found and Been N’ Gone.”

“Sounds to me like a place where there is much indecision”
“Of course, some choose that path as well, it’s a dark, never ending lane called “Wander-Away.”
“What will I find if I elect to take the route to the bridge found on Lost N’ Found?”
“If you truly believe, a wide low bridge over tranquil waters, leading to a meadow of wild flowers and peace awaits..
“If I chose that route, but don’t truly believe, will I be allowed to leave?”
“If you don’t truly believe that you have been found, then that path will never be found!”

“Now I ask you sir, how is the bridge on Been N’ Gone?”
“Tall and shaky, with a loop at the top, under which flows a turbid torrent, over sharp rocks.”
“Sounds like a bridge only the best should attempt, tell me what lies on the other side?”
“You are wrong there dear sir, the best stay at home, they’ve no need for Been N’ Gone.”
“Maybe so, but you have yet to tell me what awaits one gets across on the other side.”
“No one knows sir, for you see, most die. If anyone has made it across, them again we never see.”

“I don’t believe I have been Lost N’ Found, nor am I ready to take Been N’ Gone.”
“That leaves you the third choice sir. Too simply follow Wander-Away from here.”
“Pray tell, can you tell me what I might expect to see along my Wander-Away?”
“No preview can I give, for on this day, I know not how long or how far you will Wander-Away”
“Can one choose to return from their journey on Wander-Away?”
"Yes, when one’s mind is sure, for there are only two choices then, Lost N’ Found and Been N’ Gone.”

©October 2, 2016
Richard Nurse