Monday, May 26, 2014
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Life Among The Fallen
Here in this place not my own
Hasty decisions brought me here
Left without hope I am alone
A hollow shell filled with fears
Cast aside I have no home
Feeling self loathing and disgust
Nothing left of what I've known
Mentally, effectively handcuffed
Written 5-26-2014
©B. Alan Hart
Hasty decisions brought me here
Left without hope I am alone
A hollow shell filled with fears
Cast aside I have no home
Feeling self loathing and disgust
Nothing left of what I've known
Mentally, effectively handcuffed
Written 5-26-2014
©B. Alan Hart
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Epilogue
A tremendous upheaval took place
Dislodging a life and moving it home
Joy
Love
Mistrust
Anger
Sadness
Acceptance
Dust of emotional tempest now settled
A life goes on, once more on its own
Written 5-17-2014
© 2014 B. Alan Hart
Dislodging a life and moving it home
Joy
Love
Mistrust
Anger
Sadness
Acceptance
Dust of emotional tempest now settled
A life goes on, once more on its own
Written 5-17-2014
© 2014 B. Alan Hart
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Rekindled
There are feelings that have been stirred
Bringing with them a new light to life
A light once thought forever darkened
Now it shines more brightly than before
No more looking back on a lonesome path
Eyes fixed firmly on the future lying ahead
Facing every challenge that may come
Your hand in mine once again
Written 3-9-2014
©2014 B. Alan Hart
Bringing with them a new light to life
A light once thought forever darkened
Now it shines more brightly than before
No more looking back on a lonesome path
Eyes fixed firmly on the future lying ahead
Facing every challenge that may come
Your hand in mine once again
Written 3-9-2014
©2014 B. Alan Hart
Sunday, February 2, 2014
A Walk Before Dawn
In the air is silence so profound
As the night quietly waits for dawn
Enraptured by beauty in this place
Steam rises from the gentle river
In search of something far better
Than the water's cold embrace
Freshly fallen snow muffles sound
Giving dawn a heartwarming peace
Along with a smile to cross my face
Written 2-2-2014
©2014 B. Alan Hart
As the night quietly waits for dawn
Enraptured by beauty in this place
Steam rises from the gentle river
In search of something far better
Than the water's cold embrace
Freshly fallen snow muffles sound
Giving dawn a heartwarming peace
Along with a smile to cross my face
Written 2-2-2014
©2014 B. Alan Hart
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Playing the Fool
Casually I sit here playing the fool
While everyone else is breaking the rules
Maybe if I tried to live their way
I wouldn't be sitting here alone today
Because lately there's a hate inside
Something that I've always had to hide
It's painful to admit I can't be free
When the only person that I hate is me
Though I've tried to change
I just can't find the peace of mind
I so desperately seek
Though I've tried to free
The side of me others seem to see
That side will not speak
Caught up in a cycle of sleepless nights
Wondering why I always do what's right
Capturing my stress in a balled up fist
What's my life worth if there's no risk?
If I could open up and strip my soul bare
I'd find a new life is waiting out there
If I hide my feelings just for others' sake
I'll keep on bending until I finally break
Though I've tried to smile
I mostly find I don't feel it inside
I feel certain I am fake
Though I've tried to see
The awesome man others say I am
That man may never wake
B. Alan Hart
Written 1-26-2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Released
Closed off no longer, inspired by kindness
Trust awakens, new bonds are formed
A renewal of faith, the rebirth of hope
Feeling free once more, for now I am open
©2014 B. Alan Hart
Written 1-23-2014
Sometimes it's easy to convey feelings briefly. This poem is about friendship, and how it feels to find your walls coming down for someone else.
Trust awakens, new bonds are formed
A renewal of faith, the rebirth of hope
Feeling free once more, for now I am open
©2014 B. Alan Hart
Written 1-23-2014
Sometimes it's easy to convey feelings briefly. This poem is about friendship, and how it feels to find your walls coming down for someone else.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Graveyard Chat
There were shots fired and "Taps" was being played in the distance. It was a peaceful August morning, a bit cool for the time of year. I was enjoying my usual morning coffee, when the first of the shots rang out. Mind you, it was a small town - gunshots were not something one normally heard around here. I was already on my way to my living room window to see when I heard the mournful music wafting through the air. From my second floor balcony I had a pretty fair view of the cemetery, so I wasn't surprised to see the small gathering of people around a highly decorated lone grave.
It's strange how the death of another human being can impact a person, and the effect is stronger still when it was someone who lost their life in the line of duty. Being no less affected, I resolved to pay my respects to this soldier that evening.
The air was very still in the evening, with an accompanying silence that seemed unnatural. The sound of my footsteps crunching on the sun-parched grass echoed long into the distance as I approached the flag adorned headstone. With the aromatic flowers bringing me a feeling of peace, I straightened up and saluted. "Thank you for your service, sir."
"That was awfully kind of you."
The voice belonged to a young man standing to my left. I was startled, and considering how my walk to the graveyard was anything but silent, I was surprised that I did not hear him approach.
"I'm just paying my respects," I replied after recovering my composure.
"Same here. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
He crouched down and picked a red rose from the grave, looking at it thoughtfully. I suddenly felt aware that I might be interrupting a private moment. Before I could inquire, he turned to me and asked, "Did you know him?"
"No," I said, "I heard the ceremony this morning. I thought I'd pass through on my evening walk."
"Another soldier gone to join the greatest army of them all," he stated quietly, almost taking the words from my mouth.
"Exactly."
Straightening up, he smiled at me. "Life's a funny thing, you know. One person's passing can make us reflect on so many things, yet we still go through every day like we'll be here forever."
After pausing for thought, I responded "I've learned not to take things for granted, I think. I try not to think about death too much, you know?"
"Nobody wants to die," he agreed.
"It's the last thing I want to do," I said wryly.
The young man laughed for a second, then a sadness passed across his face for a brief moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you think all of these men and women will be remembered?" He gestured out over the cemetery to accompany the question.
"To be honest, no," I replied. "Oh, they'll all be remembered by loved ones. Those loved ones will pass on themselves, being remembered while the previous generation is forgotten. Just names on tombstones."
For some reason, he seemed to find comfort in my response. He sighed, crouched down and replaced the rose. His next words were quiet, as if he were afraid to ask me his next question. "So you're saying life ultimately has no purpose?"
"I'm saying I really don't know if there's a purpose."
"Some would say being willing to give your life for your country gives one a purpose. Or having children," he said with a hopeful smile.
I thought about this response, weighing the consequences of my next words carefully. "I could argue that not everyone serves in the military or has children. What purpose would their lives serve?"
He nodded as he contemplated his next words. "You military?" I shook my head. "Any children?" I shook my head again.
"So by the standards you set, you have no purpose." He laughed, shaking his head. "That really can't be true. I mean, you came here to pay your respects to a fallen soldier. Why do that if there's no point to it all?"
This really gave me pause for thought. Why indeed? Did I come out here just to make myself feel like a better person because I cared about the passing of a stranger? I certainly hadn't given thought to the idea that what I was doing might be selfish.
"I suddenly feel like I'm being self-righteous," was my reply.
"I don't think so," he said. "Sounds to me like you coming here gave you a purpose for this evening."
"But that's just one moment in a lifetime," I countered.
"True. But isn't that life in a nutshell? A series of tiny moments that we remember, and in turn shape who we are?"
"So," I was wrestling with this concept, "you're saying that each person has the ability to create their own purpose in life, based on their own experiences?"
He smile was like that of someone who had just won a prize. "Why not? Is there someone you've lost?"
"My mom."
"What things do you remember about her?"
"Things like letting her coffee cool to room temperature before she'd drink it. If she found a blouse she liked, she bought that blouse in every color the store offered." I was smiling as I remembered the unique things that woman did.
He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. "There's her life, in those moments you remember. She passed on to you a sense of how ridiculous and different we all are. That served a purpose, didn't it?"
"It did indeed," I laughed.
The young man suddenly seemed aware of his surroundings, and looked around furtively. Recovering his composure, he extended his hand. "The name's Howard. I should be on my way, my folks will be worried," he explained as we shook hands.
"It's certainly been an interesting conversation. My name -" I started, but he interrupted me.
"Save it for your tombstone," he said as he walked away, "I'm content knowing your sense of purpose is sound."
I smiled. What an odd conversation to have with such a young person. I turned back to the fallen soldier's grave, and straightened out the flag. I looked back and Howard was nowhere to be seen, having not heard a footstep once again. My footsteps were quiet as well, until a twig snapped loudly under my right foot. I bent down to move it out of the path, and looked at the grave over which it had been lying. I was stunned when I read the headstone's inscription: "Howard McCluskey. Another soldier gone to join the greatest army of them all."
Howard had died some sixty years before. His "folks" were buried next to him.
"Thanks for helping me, Howard," I said aloud with a salute.
The grass now crunching loudly under my feet once again, I made my way home with a new purpose: supper.
It's strange how the death of another human being can impact a person, and the effect is stronger still when it was someone who lost their life in the line of duty. Being no less affected, I resolved to pay my respects to this soldier that evening.
The air was very still in the evening, with an accompanying silence that seemed unnatural. The sound of my footsteps crunching on the sun-parched grass echoed long into the distance as I approached the flag adorned headstone. With the aromatic flowers bringing me a feeling of peace, I straightened up and saluted. "Thank you for your service, sir."
"That was awfully kind of you."
The voice belonged to a young man standing to my left. I was startled, and considering how my walk to the graveyard was anything but silent, I was surprised that I did not hear him approach.
"I'm just paying my respects," I replied after recovering my composure.
"Same here. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
He crouched down and picked a red rose from the grave, looking at it thoughtfully. I suddenly felt aware that I might be interrupting a private moment. Before I could inquire, he turned to me and asked, "Did you know him?"
"No," I said, "I heard the ceremony this morning. I thought I'd pass through on my evening walk."
"Another soldier gone to join the greatest army of them all," he stated quietly, almost taking the words from my mouth.
"Exactly."
Straightening up, he smiled at me. "Life's a funny thing, you know. One person's passing can make us reflect on so many things, yet we still go through every day like we'll be here forever."
After pausing for thought, I responded "I've learned not to take things for granted, I think. I try not to think about death too much, you know?"
"Nobody wants to die," he agreed.
"It's the last thing I want to do," I said wryly.
The young man laughed for a second, then a sadness passed across his face for a brief moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you think all of these men and women will be remembered?" He gestured out over the cemetery to accompany the question.
"To be honest, no," I replied. "Oh, they'll all be remembered by loved ones. Those loved ones will pass on themselves, being remembered while the previous generation is forgotten. Just names on tombstones."
For some reason, he seemed to find comfort in my response. He sighed, crouched down and replaced the rose. His next words were quiet, as if he were afraid to ask me his next question. "So you're saying life ultimately has no purpose?"
"I'm saying I really don't know if there's a purpose."
"Some would say being willing to give your life for your country gives one a purpose. Or having children," he said with a hopeful smile.
I thought about this response, weighing the consequences of my next words carefully. "I could argue that not everyone serves in the military or has children. What purpose would their lives serve?"
He nodded as he contemplated his next words. "You military?" I shook my head. "Any children?" I shook my head again.
"So by the standards you set, you have no purpose." He laughed, shaking his head. "That really can't be true. I mean, you came here to pay your respects to a fallen soldier. Why do that if there's no point to it all?"
This really gave me pause for thought. Why indeed? Did I come out here just to make myself feel like a better person because I cared about the passing of a stranger? I certainly hadn't given thought to the idea that what I was doing might be selfish.
"I suddenly feel like I'm being self-righteous," was my reply.
"I don't think so," he said. "Sounds to me like you coming here gave you a purpose for this evening."
"But that's just one moment in a lifetime," I countered.
"True. But isn't that life in a nutshell? A series of tiny moments that we remember, and in turn shape who we are?"
"So," I was wrestling with this concept, "you're saying that each person has the ability to create their own purpose in life, based on their own experiences?"
He smile was like that of someone who had just won a prize. "Why not? Is there someone you've lost?"
"My mom."
"What things do you remember about her?"
"Things like letting her coffee cool to room temperature before she'd drink it. If she found a blouse she liked, she bought that blouse in every color the store offered." I was smiling as I remembered the unique things that woman did.
He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. "There's her life, in those moments you remember. She passed on to you a sense of how ridiculous and different we all are. That served a purpose, didn't it?"
"It did indeed," I laughed.
The young man suddenly seemed aware of his surroundings, and looked around furtively. Recovering his composure, he extended his hand. "The name's Howard. I should be on my way, my folks will be worried," he explained as we shook hands.
"It's certainly been an interesting conversation. My name -" I started, but he interrupted me.
"Save it for your tombstone," he said as he walked away, "I'm content knowing your sense of purpose is sound."
I smiled. What an odd conversation to have with such a young person. I turned back to the fallen soldier's grave, and straightened out the flag. I looked back and Howard was nowhere to be seen, having not heard a footstep once again. My footsteps were quiet as well, until a twig snapped loudly under my right foot. I bent down to move it out of the path, and looked at the grave over which it had been lying. I was stunned when I read the headstone's inscription: "Howard McCluskey. Another soldier gone to join the greatest army of them all."
Howard had died some sixty years before. His "folks" were buried next to him.
"Thanks for helping me, Howard," I said aloud with a salute.
The grass now crunching loudly under my feet once again, I made my way home with a new purpose: supper.
Written by B. Alan Hart
©2014
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Just a Smile
Such a complicated expression
That can be filled with sadness
Or convey joy beyond words
It can cover up the darkest fear
And heal someone's deepest pain
It means more than one can say
While meaning the world to some
A thousand stories can be told
So much more than just a smile
Written 1-15-2014
That can be filled with sadness
Or convey joy beyond words
It can cover up the darkest fear
And heal someone's deepest pain
It means more than one can say
While meaning the world to some
A thousand stories can be told
So much more than just a smile
Written 1-15-2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Puzzle
You look at me with an intensity beyond measure
Yet try as you may, you can't describe what you see
In a maelstrom of inner thoughts and dialogues
It's so very hard to get one coherent sentence free
You obsess over facts and search for knowledge
Your focus on the mundane knows varying degrees
Missing the obvious but connecting subtle things
As if putting together a puzzle that no else can see
You look at the world feeling so much pleasure
Yet try as I may, I will never see just what you see
Somehow in this jumble of mixed incoming signals
There's a strong connection between you and me
B. Alan Hart
1-6-2014
Autism is a mystery to everyone, especially to those who have it. Every day is a new adventure filled with triumphs and challenges. It's all in how people treat those with Autism. Acceptance, respect and understanding are the key, and would make everything so much easier.
My fourteen year old son has Asperger's, and this is my loving dedication to him. One of a kind, loved beyond measure.
Yet try as you may, you can't describe what you see
In a maelstrom of inner thoughts and dialogues
It's so very hard to get one coherent sentence free
You obsess over facts and search for knowledge
Your focus on the mundane knows varying degrees
Missing the obvious but connecting subtle things
As if putting together a puzzle that no else can see
You look at the world feeling so much pleasure
Yet try as I may, I will never see just what you see
Somehow in this jumble of mixed incoming signals
There's a strong connection between you and me
B. Alan Hart
1-6-2014
Autism is a mystery to everyone, especially to those who have it. Every day is a new adventure filled with triumphs and challenges. It's all in how people treat those with Autism. Acceptance, respect and understanding are the key, and would make everything so much easier.
My fourteen year old son has Asperger's, and this is my loving dedication to him. One of a kind, loved beyond measure.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Come Sunrise
Nightfall draws its curtain on this town
I feel a touch of sadness as the sun is going down
Now that I'm left alone with my thoughts
I'll pace here back and forth until I am overwrought
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
So quiet in this place when I'm alone
All too often feeling like this place is not my home
Agonizing over days longs since passed
Watching night, wondering which chance will be my last
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
Black night slowly eases to dull grey
Relieved, I welcome in this wonderful new day
Streaks of scarlet break upon the land
I feel overcome with a joy that I can't understand
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
B. Alan Hart
Written 1-5-2014
Night will always carry with it a sadness for me. Dark, mysterious and filled with sad goodbyes, lovers long gone, memories of those long passed. A time when I rarely sleep well, instead honoring the memories of all who have touched my life. Most nights I long for sunrise. The chance to start again.
I feel a touch of sadness as the sun is going down
Now that I'm left alone with my thoughts
I'll pace here back and forth until I am overwrought
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
So quiet in this place when I'm alone
All too often feeling like this place is not my home
Agonizing over days longs since passed
Watching night, wondering which chance will be my last
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
Black night slowly eases to dull grey
Relieved, I welcome in this wonderful new day
Streaks of scarlet break upon the land
I feel overcome with a joy that I can't understand
Come sunrise, everything will be alright
B. Alan Hart
Written 1-5-2014
Night will always carry with it a sadness for me. Dark, mysterious and filled with sad goodbyes, lovers long gone, memories of those long passed. A time when I rarely sleep well, instead honoring the memories of all who have touched my life. Most nights I long for sunrise. The chance to start again.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Lines
I look at this face and see all these growing lines
Each one marking off the passing days of life
Every groove tells a different story from the past
Bringing back the memories on this lonely night
Some of these traces tell of heartbreak and of pain
While others tell a tale filled with love and joy
Creating a guide to lead through the journey of my life
Leaving me with a mark that age won't destroy
All the days I've lived are shown here for all time
I have no regrets that's one thing I know is true
I look at this face and see a new line starting there
Can't help but hope and pray this one is for you
B. Alan Hart
Written 1-4-2014
Each one marking off the passing days of life
Every groove tells a different story from the past
Bringing back the memories on this lonely night
Some of these traces tell of heartbreak and of pain
While others tell a tale filled with love and joy
Creating a guide to lead through the journey of my life
Leaving me with a mark that age won't destroy
All the days I've lived are shown here for all time
I have no regrets that's one thing I know is true
I look at this face and see a new line starting there
Can't help but hope and pray this one is for you
B. Alan Hart
Written 1-4-2014
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