Charlie's Poetry - Page 1
HAIL TO THE HARROWED HEROES

Hail to heroes of yesteryear
hail to those standing - erect and tall
cemented with statue
molded in strength
ensouled with Mars’ victory blood
coursing crimson through their veins.

Hail to those marbled heroes
the soldier’s of valor
proudly stationed
imbued with forgotten courage
and drenched with sounds
of long past recorded deeds.

Those concrete men
we blindly hail -
did your steel hands
mirror a steel heart?
was your mettle made of mere metal;
to what tune did you march?
did you not feel the pain of those slain
or the ache of fallen kinship left behind?

Hail - hail to those paper heroes
of yesteryear
\whose silver tarnished ashes
that wave in the breeze
and burn there way--
like burning black smoke --
into history’s memory.

©charlie elkind 4/1999
GOLDEN DELICIOUS

Core of it all
a solitary, unified oneness
hidden like the seeds of an apple
nonchalantly left upon our plates,
as we consume our morning fruit.

Layered within forms
shadowed from view
simple seeds glowing with life
and potently projected
in the small one-pointed
glint of light
beheld in a friend’s eye.

©charlie elkind 1/3/2000
WALKING WITHIN, WITH OUT

I had stopped to walk
the labyrinth
slowly I meandered its traced turns
feeling my feet
cool and covered, but open
touching, kissing
caressing the warm quiet earth below.

Aware of the path's fractured framework
of well-bedded stones
and the slight weakened wobble
in my walk.
I reached center,
then paused to ponder.

As I finished,
I reached out again,
stopping to
feel grateful
I had taken
the time
to turn.

charlie elkind 3/9/2001
. THE HOLLOW WINDS OF AUTUMN

A late autumn wind
flies through the air,
wooden sticks
ablaze in a fall fire
as yellow-orange flames
lick the sky
against
the remaining backdrop
of red and gold.
Cerulean blue paints the canopy
chilling the swarming air
that fills our marrows.

Summer hides away,
winter’s peeking out
from a morning frost
creeping upon
red chysanthamums.

Nature
with her undulating moods
prepares a table
of barren delights.

charlie elkind  November 5, 1998
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IRIS

Iris dreams invading my space
their delicate, rich textured form, donned in
nature’s chiffon silk dress of yellow, purple, pink or harlequin hued hat --
worn only in spring fashion.

Some tickled with tongue
others homing a caterpillar fur upon their throat.
Their bulbous heads stand waved and proud
with arms
humbled to their mother below.

Yearly
giving birth to season’s offspring
giving cause for cleaning closets
digging deep -- spacing, sharing, supporting
their buried delight --
we toil as earthy janitors
making sure bulbs are tightly screwed
into soiled sockets.

Waving in an early summer breeze
sharing hope - remembrance
an enduring color wheel existence,
making its perennial return.

©charlie elkind 1/18/99
GETTING IN THE LAST WORD
In the ending
was the word...

what will be the last word
uttered before the universe totally disappears?

once AGAIN.

What will the Cosmos
remember just before it takes its last
dying inbreath?

What sound is the last sound
when there is no-one to hear
no-one to listen

What wonderous warm word
is spoken
just before it all
slips into
the dark deep waters
of the unspoken Absolute.


©charlie elkind 4/9/2001
TO LOVE ANOTHER
LIKE ONE'S OWN

To love another like one’s own
fusing of notes, blending in tone.
This caring -- a bliss sublime
Ah, if it could happen all the time.

We’re all in this together it’s said
like some universal soup we’re intwinely wed.
To feel another’s pain and grief
to share our elations and joyous reliefs.

Our separateness and distance is all a sham
like dwelling on a beach as a secluded clam.
The ocean waves wash over the sands
maybe this ideal is for future lands.

The sound of oneness is a concept, so grand
to hold each other hand by hand.
In the small of the heart, we all must unite
soaring upward, freely ascending like a kite.

Humanity as one is the call
to hear it cried from every hall.
To see it lived in all its forms
to view it pictured and proclaimed as norm.

This is the dream we need to be shown,
To love another as one’s own.

This is the dream we need to hone,
To love all as a known.

©charlie elkind 11/02/98
LINKED TO FATHER TIME

My father lays across my wrists
keeping perfect hours,
and although he has moved on
I remember him by the time we spent together.
His watch he gave me,
does not tick me off
but repeatedly watches where I go.

©charlie elkind 2/3/99
SLEEPING AT
THE WHEEL OF LIFE

Daily motions
moving and marching
meeting and greeting
practical patterns
habitually honed.

Wrapped in our cozy covers,
lying fetus-like in cocoons -
We tumble off our King-sized beds
and mattresses.
The Fall shaking us awake
nudging us into a subtle stupor,
stirring an inherent yearning
for a crying call of an
altruistic alarm-clock
to arouse us completely
from our sedated
sluggish slumbers.

©charlie elkind 4/11/2001