| Charlie's Poetry - Page 5 |
| SUNDAY IN THE PARK, BY GEORGE swwoooosshh, sswwwiiisssh, swwoooosshh, the delightful sound of strolling on Autumn’s bed echoes in my ear. George and I -- leashed together, walking in cadence. He nuzzles the ground, whiffing the leaves, the trees looking for familiar smells and a fragrance of past remembrances. Sunday in the park with George with our six brushes strapped to our knees we paint the fields as we walk. Crunching on blankets of pumpkin hue, a squash on the cranberry, and snapping down gently on the corn flakes. Swatches of yellow silk adorn the trees as we saunter by. George becomes unhinged and tramples playfully over brown seasoned leaves appearing as a crumpled city of paper bags bouncing in camouflaged light. The yellow silk, the cranberries, the pumpkin all blend in one as we walk. Sun-day lives up to its name a time for basking in the Fall’s glowing ambers. Soon the tubes of paint will run dry leaving only the burnt sienna, umber and flicks of cotton white for use. Sunday afternoons with George, in the park his yellow raisin coated hair, blending with the leaves bouncing in the wind taking golden retriever steps on a golden retriever type of day. ©charlie elkind 12/19/98 |
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| STAYING UP TO LATE Computer interactions, shared space in time; a puzzle, woven and interconnected with pieces scattered and dispersed across the circle of earth. Unknown gender, unknown name freely sharing just the same. Secrets of the stars from Venus to Mars. Our lives we animate and discuss. Sharing moments of energy and distance close at hand. Sometimes our fingers race, moving too fast missing a key locked in our thoughts. We chat for hours friends without faces sharing our soundless lives our hopes our losses but we are free, because we cannot see. All I see is a screen what if it’s only me talking to myself. ©charlie elkind 11/6/98 |
| A RED AND GREEN FROST Walking the dog, late Fall colors all cleared away -- our breath making smoke patterns in an early morning frost We trod and crunch down on little white ice crystals, sprinkled and spread out like a soft silver blanket covering the brown-green grass below. Strolling in a cloudy haze permeated by a morning fog that penetrates through the air and our minds. The air feels cool, crisp, and clearing making us wrap up tight in coats of cloth and fur -- we look around, ahead both sensing soon that whipped white mounds will litter this wasted landscape. The nearby houses adorned in red and green are lit up and all aglitter - inside hangs the honored holly and mistletoe. Trees and living rooms, sparkling and ornamented, are sacrificed on a family altar near a fiery fireplace hung with handmade stockings. marching ever onward unifying us all within the continuous beating of our breath. ©charlie elkind 12/10/1998 |
| ENDLESS REPETITION Endless repetition, endless repetition the mind, its thoughts - circle around Endless repetition, endless repetition try to stop, the more it sounds. Endless repetition, endless repetition things we’d like to forget Endless repetition, endless repetition Ideas, situations we’d like not to have met. Endless repetition, endless repetition like a bird caught in a cage endless repetition, endless repetition like a mouse on a treadmill, caught in a rage. Endless repetition, endless repetition actions, activities done without mind endless repetition, endless repetition like a spring trapped in a constant wind. Endless repetition, endless repetition slowly it slows endless repetition it goes. ©charlie elkind 2/27/1999 |
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| ON TO PAGE 6 |
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| INDEX |
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| MORNING MEDITATIONS The healers gather to celebrate the new day some stretched and pulled others have just hopped out and been toweled down from sprouts and sprays of piped rain. We prepare to enter - unclothing our feet stepping in finding our cushions then silently sitting waiting for the gong to go. At the appointed hour the bellowing bowl sings out three times each call taking us deeper deeper and deeper away from trial and toil calming, smoothing waves of emotions maelstroms of mind. We sit, and listen hearing the brook hearing sounds of yesterday hearing voices of tomorrow but letting it all pass letting it all go being, being just being here with others, and for others. Our connections deepen freeing us, to just be to just listen -- losing time, losing space stopping our momentary motion as we mutely merge and melt. Then we awaken refreshed, renewed holding on to quiet morsels as we move towards the bells of breakfast -- our faces now turned around to the deeds of the day. ©charlie elkind 08/02/99 |
| MIRRORS
Open your hands and let the sunshine in take a deep breath and breathe in the stars walk through the fields and feel the mountains beneath your feet embrace those you love and experience only yourself. ©charlie elkind 11/01/2000 |