|
|
My pen won’t speak the words I seek
So how can I finish this verse
My mind can’t find the words that rhyme
So please tell me what could be worse
Should I care to stare at the arm of my chair
Trying to bring forth thought
Or should I end and send what I have penned
Trying to forget what I sought
© 2019 – 2020, Lekatt. All rights reserved.
(Author’s note: This poem has been plagiarized, truthized, renamed, reworded, redesigned, expanded and reduced. But it is my work, which I wrote at the age of 19 and had published in my college yearbook. Why anyone would want to claim it is beyond me, but for what it’s worth, I wrote it, and if I’d known it was going to be this popular, I’d have done a better job of it. – V.S.)
“After a While”
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…
© 1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall
© 2019, Lekatt. All rights reserved.
I go there every day
when I can get away,
a place for me to play.
The tall grass is always green.
Chilled water runs clear in stream,
a veiled place for me to dream.
It frames itself to what I need,
with my emotion it is keyed,
my every thought will it heed.
Here I build grand creations,
peace and love for all nations,
become truth at this location.
© 2019, Lekatt. All rights reserved.
Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus, is a classic. We need to read this often lest we forget the magnitude of the world we live in. Nothing, no nothing is impossible to the mind.
It was written in 1897 by Francis P. Church, the editor of the defunct New York Sun. He wrote it in response to this letter.
“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘If you see it in the Sun, it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth. Is there a Santa Claus?” – Virginia O’Hanlon
“Dear Virginia: Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little.
“In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.
“There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
“Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus.
“The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in this world.
“You tear apart the baby’s rattle to see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart.
“Only faith, poetry, love, romance can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
“No Santa Claus? Thank God he lives, and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”
© 2019, Lekatt. All rights reserved.
|
