Saturdays Ago

A time set aside for comfort,
fleece and oats and Woolrich.
But spent watching as koi splashed in latex skin,
struggling to prove that they are koi.

A time set aside for small things moving quickly,
in the glow of the television.
But spent asking, begging, demanding a future that
is not ours. Ours is written.

it
is
right
there.

A time set aside to build a memory that will never leave
but
may be evicted.

– ShotByNess.


Saturdays Ago
Infrastructure Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC

Still Magic

I saw the assemblage of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the aviator.
Now is just the thing,
To get me wondering if aviation was exciting.

Don’t believe that airplanes are extraordinary?
Airplanes are ordinary beyond belief.
Down, down, down into the darkness,
Gently they go – the unexceptional, the common, the run-of-the-mill.

Just like murders, is planes.
Do planes make you shiver?
Do they?

– ShotByNess.


Hangar Hotel
Infrastructure Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC

Bror Larson

Renaissance Man

There were blasts of thunder
As we learned your canon
You are our poet and tribe
You summed us all up
Whilst you became more
And while you figured out
You helped us pay off debts

You were way into your talk
At The Brewery – still
Wondering where your head
Was at, my poetry like
Drunk slurred speech
To embody, to embody
The winds speak your name

Zubyre Parvez


Bror Larson
Family Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC

Meeting the Baby

 

An Old Lady’s Poem

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try!”
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe…..
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill….
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse; you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten …with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
A bride soon at twenty — my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more, babies play round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old woman …and nature is cruel;
‘Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living life over again.
I think of the years ….all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
…Not a crabby old woman; look closer …see ME

– Anonymous

Meeting the Baby
Relationships Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC

Family Spring

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil

Robert Frost


Family Spring
Relationships Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

Edgar Allan Poe


Alone
Relationships Series
ShotByNess.
© 2019 RiverHouse Group of Caughdenoy, new YorK, LLC