Ten Poems

Wanting 

A child 

Sees the clear difference 

Between what she and others have 

Material riches, self-worth, dignity 

Not sure what is wrong 

But something definitely is wrong 

 

Work hard. Be like us. 

The message others give 

Nighttime hunger, outgrown clothes 

No new shoes at the start of school 

Fatigue, vagueness, fog, indignation 

Hard to be what they want me to be 

 

Depression, misbehavior, stern looks from teachers 

Why not?  

Life is unfair 

Living from rental to rental to rental 

Despairing parents 

Missing future 

Absent opportunity 

 

She stares into space 

 

Dying 

Brain takes command 

as always 

to prepare for death 

 

No more plans to make 

short-term memory 

loses importance 

replaced by life review 

decades-old events 

revisited 

 

Sleep prevails 

systems slow 

consciousness wanes 

peace descends 

 

Food and water 

are rejected 

for days and days 

while the catheter 

fills less and less 

 

The body 

dwindles and declines 

sliding into 

cocoon-like embrace 

slow reach to 

terminal stillness 

 

An Old Picture 

I ran across 

An old picture of my daughter 

Taken during the 1990s. 

It makes me sad 

That I can’t relive just one day 

Of her at that age 

Ever again. 

 

Moments 

To feel 

Moods strike stealthily 

Good humor, bad sentiment 

Push and pull of psyche 

Habits hard to break 

Circumstances take control 

Stronger than mind 

Stronger than heart 

 

Peer through haze 

Touch habitual responses 

Cultivate curiosity 

Embrace growth 

Gamble with uncertainty 

 

Impulses emerge  

Patterns arise 

Pleasure and pain are what they are 

Observe their nuance 

Free of judgment 

Live with what is 

Like never before 

 

Folk 

Family 

Wife, Son, Daughter 

Extraordinary lives 

Core of being 

Live in love 

Live in fear 

 

Don’t be taken away 

Appreciation is lacking 

Immeasurable passion 

Devotion to die for 

The choice is mine alone 

 

Young families 

Coordinate child care 

Am now free of that burden 

But at what cost? 

Groundlessness and self-centeredness 

Poor substitutes for nurturing 

 

Los Angeles 

Density 

Drone of ‘The 2’ 

Voices across properties 

Layered aircraft 

Hot days 

Cool nights 

Dry polluted air 

The Moon shines here too 

Mixed cultures 

Brown skin 

Interaction 

So many stories 

Sea of humanity 

Neighborhood islands 

Small houses 

Eccentric styling 

Reputation 

Creative flow 

Music and acting 

Hub of entertainment 

Domingo 

Highland Park supermercado 

Barbacoa de pollo e carne  

Bueno con cerveza fria 

Walk along Verdugo  

LA middle class 

Din of cars 

Birdsong background 

 

Orange 

Orange needles, once green, lie on the ground 

Orange leaves cling ever tenuously to maple trees 

Ripe pumpkins sit on a stonewall 

Passing light displays an orange radiance 

Once inside, the first warming fires cast an orange glow 

The calmness of yellow merges with the urgency of red 

To signal the demise of summer and winter’s inception  

 

This pigmented time of year produces associations 

And reminders of traditions 

Walks across campus quads and leaf strewn trails 

Establishment of studious and productive mindsets 

Plans made previously unfold with predictability and anticipation 

Gardens put to bed and warm weather paraphernalia packed away 

Sweaters and corduroys briefly forgotten are reintroduced  

 

Oaks foretell mice, chipmunk, hawk, and fox populations 

By the volume of their acorn drops 

Floral life, verdant and full not so long ago, languishes 

Mountain sides pop as palettes of complexion 

Auburn crowned birches lean over running brooks 

Lakes reflect angled beams of light, yielding their annual shimmer 

Air carries the pungent smell of decay and disintegration 

 

Cool air prompts more campfires 

There is still dried pine to eliminate 

The flames dance with orange brilliance 

Against hard granite stones 

Staring for hours into the blaze 

Contemplating the present moment 

And the frigid winter to come 

 

Dogs 

Their soulful, expressive eyes 

Short fur on tops of heads 

calling to be stroked and scratched 

Layers of affection and anxiety 

We finessed, managed, and loved them  

for so many years 

 

Rusty was the first 

When I was a little boy 

The big shaggy Collie didn’t last long 

Chasing cars, chewing shoes 

My earliest remembered profound sadness 

to know he had been given away 

 

Kemo came from a New Bedford shelter 

My life partner loved dogs 

We tried together to keep him 

Nervous, desperate, unpredictable 

“Damaged goods” is a usable phrase 

to best describe the poor boy 

 

Karga was on loan for a year or two 

A huge German Shepard and 

gentle giant 

Diligently guarding our son’s home birth 

in a rural New Hampshire farmhouse 

 

Sikkum, the Lhasa Apso 

could turn women’s heads 

when I walked him on Concord streets 

Our boy’s first dog  

who required more patience than I showed 

 

 Ahh, Else, the “girl biter” 

The Chocolate Lab lasted fifteen years 

A true family dog 

Was present when our daughter arrived 

Beautiful dog, loving relationship 

who would sell her soul for just one more bite 

of food 

 

Elwood, a most handsome German Short-haired Pointer 

needed a new home 

We were seduced by his tri-color palette 

but tested by his fears 

which grew worse over nine years 

We all tried so hard 

We all tried, Elwood 

 

Regal Tess had been abandoned 

An aloof and strong-willed Standard Poodle 

who preferred women over men 

A curly gray ghost with a singular agenda 

that was hard to penetrate 

I think, but am not sure 

she was grateful for what she was given 

 

Pepper stayed for her final eighteen months 

Her old owners had to depart 

for a nursing home 

She departed for our home 

A ragamuffin mix of Terrier this and that 

My only regret is that 

she had not spent her whole life with us 

 

Ernest came to retire in New Hampshire  

from urban California 

Our first hound. A howling experience 

Between us he sat 

on cold winter days and nights 

before the flickering woodstove 

melting our hearts 

 

Cringeworthy 

An uncomfortable 

but valuable (I think) 

phenomenon is occurring 

now that I’m retired. 

 

Unprompted and spontaneous memories of 

stupid-ass, 

embarrassing, 

awkward, 

tactless, 

faux pas situations 

I committed 

over many years 

are stinging my consciousness. 

 

There are many years to cover 

and numerous instances on which to reflect. 

Having stepped into it  

as frequently as I have 

gives my deep memory 

much grist for my mental mill. 

 

Why this is happening 

I am not sure. 

Perhaps I’m primed 

for a life review 

coupled with a slap 

upside the head. 

God knows I deserve it. 

 

My response 

after my initial cringe 

is resolve. 

Live more present. 

Observe more acutely. 

Be kinder. 

Reach out intentionally. 

Add and not subtract 

from future interactions. 

 

Beats just feeling like shit. 

 

Rooted Aimlessness 

Physics takes a recess while 

disparate experiences blend. 

 

Dream-like views prevail and 

suggestion becomes what it is. 

 

Like counting blueberries picked 

during moments leading to death. 

 

Also, weather becomes predictable 

like it has all happened before. 

 

Mothers and fathers fade away 

while suns burn hot. 

 

The aging actor only gets roles 

for characters who are old. 

 

Nurses heal, teachers teach, and 

everyone tries to carry on. 

 

The bridge’s incline keeps rising 

leaving me scared to gape over the peak. 

 

Peering into the eyes of dogs and horses 

is like seeing life itself. 

 

I miss the country when 

I’m too long in urban sprawl. 

 

Can I please be excused? 

Bill Ryan