Poems about my father and grandfather

A cousin of mine was mining through my grandfather's things (he died many years ago) and found a poem written about my father by a member and friend of his from the Rotarian Club in Iowa. It reminded me that I had once written a poem about missing my dad and a poem I wrote just after attending my grandfather's funeral. With your indulgence, I would like to share them with you.

My dad was, among many things, a clown. When I was a real little kid, he came up to me and my mom dressed as a clown during the WL parade...scared the bejesus out of me. He was "chased away" by a friend of his. I didn't know it was my dad until after he had died. I never saw him again dressed as a clown. Ironic that I became a pantomime in school and college. I have all of my dad's clown costumes and stuff. Funny how things turn out.

The Joy of the World’s Smile

Touching his reality with soft powder
He examines the stories in his face
Reflects the reflection
Smiles sad and wise.
Adds meaning to the blue cake tears
Resting on cheeks white as laughing stars.
Tattered gloves smooth perma-wrinkle clothing
Dance along scattered patches
Parts fire-orange curls for a hat
That has never seen better days.
Loving us so dangerously that no risk is too great
Needing so badly that no laugh is belly-big enough.
He speaks to us with eloquent silence.
Gives us slapstick as rich as gold.
With crazed colors in a riotous rainbow
We learn courage.
We see the tears trapped on his cheeks
And laugh at the pain he endures for us.
I try to catch his eye for only a moment
I want his smile to be for me.
Lights and laughter melt into the sand
Leaving only a silence
Which is both life and death.
Softly the shadows console his longing to be loved.
Do not cry, Mr. Clown.
Wipe the tears gone and share with me the joy of the world’s smile.
Sing to me songs with the magic of your silence.
Take my hand let me see
The sweet/sad beauty of your inspiration.

For a moment he turned towards me
Managed one last love filled smile
And the cheers of a thousand clowns filled the silent tent.
Then he was gone
Never came back.
But the silence still knows his songs.
I listen and remember.


Dedicated to the memory of my father, Ronald D. Butler
---------------------------------------------------------
Grandpa Butler was the patriarch of the Butler clan. He was a teller of stories, a professional speaker. He was a gentle constant of nature for a family lost in waves of grief from my father's death.


A Story Worth Tellin’

It was easy to touch
The world of his smile.
Draw strength from eyes
Which had seen more than I.
Listen to his wisdom behind the punchline.
Watch him recall breathtaking beauty
From the ugliest side of man.

He loved us
Although he wouldn’t have put it that way.
Cherishing stories of family.
And I think this is why
His death is so hard to grasp.

His is a story worth tellin’.
But I’ve no words to do him justice.
Cannot tell it the way he could.
The world I know is quiet.
Having lost its teller of stories.

I can see him.
Sitting back in his green easy chair
Laughing with the Hawkeyes
Half buried in clippings on a T.V. tray.
He laughs for the joke is still funny to him:
“Its all timing, “lil chicken,
I’m as close as your favorite story
I used to tell”.


Dedicated to the memory of Emmett F. Butler, my grandfather.
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Share with me your thoughts about your fathers and grandfathers.

Mental Illness

This week I want to express my thoughts about those with mental illness. I've spent almost 17 years treating those with mental health issues. I am always struck by how alone they feel. I wrote both poems in first person. I know I can never understand how it must be for them, but I want to convey that I am trying.

This first poem is about schizophrenia.

Laughing Into My Fingers

i hope someone visits me.
i should die -
give harmony to the hum
that sets me apart.
give i-teeth for a night’s sleep
without bad thoughts.

mysterious death-songs haunt my
breakfast medications.
by noon, my laughter
robs me of my dignity.

fearing to touch my television
or any other friend-
a voice tells me i am bad
and am lonely because of it.

i love my family
(even though they are killing me)

i’mfine noproblemhere canismokenow?
talk the talk walk the walk
i kiss the mirror with rotten teeth
trembling lips.

laughing into my fingers
i am unsure of my lucid thoughts.
_________________________________

This one is about Alzheimer's Dementia. I have several good friends who have relatives with this disease.

In Earshot of the Madness

you wag your tail and lift my hand with your soft brown nose and i can remember who you are and laugh because i remember and i love you
did i feed you today? i don’t know and i can’t remember
you look the same.
the ocean inside my head hurts me
its voice makes me sway
i hear my voice and i laugh at it
it is so far away
my life is so clear right now and funny how it seems so important
the details the little details that i had forgotten.
i’m laughing and i know i must look a sight.
feel the drool on my chin and wait for help.
i wet myself. dear jesus ...someone will come and help me.
my dog where is he? did i feed him? he licked my hand i’m sure of it.
i don’t hear you anymore
oceantime you understand drifting in earshot of the madness
screaming in soft, silent darkness.
he would lay his head in my hands you see
i’m sorry i just can’t keep a hold of my mind anymore.
no. no i’m not hungry so leave me alone.
noone knows me anymore don’t touch me
yes i know i smell of old piss and sweat just let me die.
don’t tell me he’s gone i loved him.
he was just a puppy
sad eyes of hazel
and a tail that could make me smile
just from watching it.
i should get up and feed him, its time y’know.


This poem is dedicated to those stricken with Alzheimer’s Dementia. Of all the madness that plagues our world, yours is the first forgiven.
_______________________________

Please let me know your thoughts.

b

More Love Poetry

Thought I'd do one more week of love poetry, then on to more serious stuff. Hope you like what you read.

Finding a Similar Dream

You are my dream.
You are my fantasy.
Realizing this I fear to wake.And so,
Am content
(More than I can explain with my soul)
To sleep in your love.
Live my days in our reality,
While the world looks on
To more important matters.
Such as finding a similar dream.
____________________________
The Music of Your Laughter

Before I met you
I wanted so much to love completely
That I could but watch others fall in love.
I was so scared to give myself
That I let life hold me like an empty, bitter wind
On a silent day.
Then my dreams carried me to you.
You laughed my fears into the sunshine.
What can I whisper but “I love you”,
When I listen to your breath
Soft and gentle in the darkness?
How can I feel anything but joy,
Rich and deep when I touch you as I wake?
I’m thankful,
And a little amazed
That my world could be so beautiful
When filled with the music of your laughter.
______________________________
Valentine's Day Thought

Gently (so soft, warm) we kiss
Knowing each other’s embrace.
Asking for each other’s love.
Trembling, I give.
Fearing it won’t be enough
To hold your smile forever to my soul.
Wrapped in your love
I’m safe from myself.
In your arms I’m free to wonder rainbows
Or race the stars.
In your arms I know that dreams can come true.
I’ll never find words to express the feelings
You leave in me.
No cage of thought could contain that much joy.
Know that I love you,
And hold me, forever,
In your smile.
______________________________

Take care and love well.
orn

Love

For the next few weeks I will be sharing thoughts about romantic love. Most are about the love I have for my wife. (She said it would be okay to share them). Since many of them aren't very long, I would like to show three poems today. The first two are poems I wrote to my wife after we got married.

Reasons To Watch For Morning

So easily the twilight turned the rushing day
To a shy, peaceful horizon
That we stumbled full gait into darkness.
Balanced tip-toe on the lip of night.
Held out our terror for the wind to taste.
Waited for empty black
To overtake the heels of life.
Someone screamed that day had been lost.
That no one would see the sunrise.
That heaven had been taken from us
Just when we needed it most.
With the last whisper of sun slipping my touch
I see you reach for me.
And the night is but an unborn tomorrow.
Twilight is a kiss from an almost forgotten day.
You give me reasons to watch for morning.
Until I hold you
I forget these things.
____________________________________
Mr. Webster

Mr. Webster defines love
As easily as I can see
Your smile in me.
He went on - next word, small print.
I lingered on love.
For me, your picture would have sufficed.
Good thing I’m not Webster.
Having you defines my life.
You are the language of my love.
The rest of the world can wait.
I’ll write my books on you.
__________________________

This last poem is written about two very good friends of mine, Shell and Raf. Seeing them together, in love, is such a treat. It leaves me grinning...and feeling young.

No Need for Cupid

Telling lies to a blind sun,
To a dark-deafened moon,
Life would have heaven hear
Our excuses why love fails.

The sun understands how
Flailing for another’s touch
Burns us as we clench our eyes shut,
Never seeing beyond our solitary shadows.

The moon knows the cold silence of night,
How it deafens us to words we need most.
Mute, we swallow with fear (our feeling words)
Until we are one with the lies of our lives.

Raf (brown-eyed and grinning)
With pirate intent, takes Shell in a gaze that undoes
The falsehoods of existence.

Shell holds her pirate close
(no flailing here).
Makes exception her rule.

Loving laughing tenderness,
There is no need for Cupid.
Hand in hand, a private joke,
To call each other “stupid”.

Heaven has no excuses.
It begins to understand that when
Raf and Shell unwrap their gifts
(each others’ hearts),
Everyday is Christmas.
__________________________

Hope you liked these poems as much as I enjoyed writing them. Speak your feeling words to someone you love. They need to be heard almost as much as you need to say them. Until next week, take care.
b

Military Poetry

I wrote a poem over the weekend that deals with military issues, and I wanted to share it with you. The poem shares what I sometimes experience as a psychologist treating soldiers who have returned from deployment. Please know that not every session is this intense, but many are. The poem addresses some of the combat traumas I hear, and is not a verbatim experience from any particular soldier.

Inside the Numbers

Fourteen seconds to see your world from
Four inches above sand
Stinking of sewage and cordite.
Eighty meters to your eleven o’clock is the
Birthplace of an ambush where 155mm rounds
Shook and shoved vehicles into ditches and chaos.
Thirty-five words shouted at blast-deafened ears to
Take out the sniper three stories up where a mother and
Her four children huddle unseen
Clutching each other, wide-eyed as random, angry bullets
Slowly find them.
Twenty-eight ragged, scorching breaths (and a thousand years)
To drag your best friend behind a brown, pocked wall
On a meaningless street three hundred years older
Than you’ll ever be.
One continuous scream into a faceless radio mike for medevac
While five pints of blood pump slower from a single throat shot
As your two hands try to stop the crimson flow of broken promises to
Drink more beer than you
Marry your kid sister
Get you back home safe
You stop talking as your hands form fists
Trying to conquer what is rising up in you.
(I wait three minutes in silence)
As you distill two years of guilt and grief
Into tears that collect on my office floor
Defying any attempt to make sense
Of such madness.

__________________________________________________

This second poem is also from my experience of being a therapist for soldiers. In many ways, it is perhaps more revealing of how it feels to do what I do. Sometimes all you can do is bear witness to how these incredibly noble men and women brave everything to get better. I suppose that writing about this is therapeutic for myself. Is so, then thank you for being a witness.

Therapy

As witness
I felt dumbstruck.
Such old tears from
So young a man.
So much loss
So soon.
So much ahead

We laugh our tears.
We dance with death.
We hold our fears
We hold our breath.

“Good work, today”.

Only you and your world have not known good
For some time.

Staring at the floor
Embarrassed by your own emotions
You apologize for tears still fighting
You for expression.

You are not weak.
Only younger
(and)
Older than me
Forever.

________________________________________________

Let me know your thoughts and reactions. Next week, I write about love.

Faith and Religion

Well...few things get more reaction than thoughts about religion and faith. I'm going to share four poems with you, since I will be on vacation next weekend and won't be able to do the blog. These poems were written as I struggled (and still struggle) to understand faith, religion, and hope. I placed the poems in chronological order, and it seems that maybe I've changed. So, here we go.

This first poem I wrote many years ago, when I was young, angry and unsure of what it all meant. I was not a fan of mankind then (still not much of a fan, now).

Dinosaurs of Christ

we live and worship
burning empty barns
like Dresden’s children.
TURN THE OTHER CHEEK I’LL SLASH YOUR THROAT
TAKE MY HAND YOU’LL RAPE ME
we are LAUGHING HATE AND LOVING VOMIT
we are what we despise and cannot accept
WE LIVE AND WORSHIP
WE LIVE AND WORSHIP
we are dinosaurs.
giants killing for the right to
fill in the blanks.
leaving shadow prints in forgotten rocks.
so curious that
memories named christ are significant to us.
murdered to show peace and love
how like a god to mock us
just when we need him most.
fat man in red/bunny with eggs
how like us to mock a brave man
who would wash our feet,
turn the other cheek.
who loved his dinosaurs.

(how like a god)
to love us
knowing we would never understand.
_________________________________________
I've always been disturbed by Easter, can you tell?

Easter Thought

And so
Without answers to his questions.
No toast for his cup of Maddog 20/20,
J.C. hung with the best of them.
Left but a corpse and a memory.
Bled love into the ground.
So we kill in his name.
Blood into the ground.

It defeats his intent.
But I’m not a god and wouldn’t know.
Perhaps this is good.
He’s never around to say.

with silent cries a man-god dies
we bleed his legend pale.
on plastic grass let’s sing a mass
with peter cottontail.

I question his method
not his madness.
I should be so mad
but am not.
Perhaps this is good.

There is no time for madness, J.C.
No more market for martyrs.
So lets ride, J.C.
You and me, J.C.
In the belly of the magical bunny.

How’s that for madness?
_______________________________________
I was starting to mellow with this poem. Still holding mankind to a high standard, and feeling that we fell short, but realizing there was meaning.

A Fragrance of Tired Roses

IT HAD ALL HAPPENED SO FAST WHAT WITH HIM BEING IN CHARGE OF THE MEN AND ALL THE SPEECHES AND THE TROUBLE WITH THE COPS AND THEM BEING FROM OUT OF TOWN AND STUFF AND WELL THINGS GOT Y’KNOW CRAZY AND NO ONE HAD THE COURAGE TO STOP AND FUNNY HOW THINGS CAN GET CRAZY TOO FAST SOMETIMES
The Crowd, fickle as hell, wanted blood.
As was their right.
It was said the critics crucified him.
POOR CHOICE OF WORDS
TOO SYMBOLIC IF YOU ASK ME
HE HAD IT COMIN’ IF YA WANNA KNOW THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER
MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF ONE OF ‘EM AND THE REST WILL TOE THE LINE
NOT ONE OF ‘EM WORTH A DAMN ANYWAY
So why the fear?
Beauty had yet to take one life.
Peace to cause one war.
If God came down to love us just once, say next Tuesday
He’d be dead by Friday.
And if more than one came to call
There’d be hell to pay.
BUT DON’T WORRY, LIL’ DARLIN’
THEY WON’T CAUSE NO TROUBLE NOWADAYS
WE SEEN TO THAT
CRUCIFY MY ASS, WE KICKED BUTT, LIL’ DARLIN’.
And
Beauty died without a whimper
Beneath a blind sky of sunshine.
Leaving but a fragrance
Of tired roses.
____________________________________
This was written as a gift for a friend of mine. She likes hummingbirds.

a miracle amongst the flowers

giving was so very easy.
for heaven it always was.
a child a star it never seemed quite enough.

so an angel
(the most delicate of heaven) was chosen to
teach mankind of hope.
perhaps ...beauty.
dressed in the fires of autumn,
the laughter of the greenest springs,
blessed with the voice of love,
the angel taught the child and mankind the
songs of hope.

the child grew with the world
then died from it.
in grief, heaven took back its gifts of
birth, eternity , and hope.
the angel, who learned to love man from watching the child,
asked to stay.
so heaven returned its last gift
(as only heaven could.)

the angel transformed into a bird of rainbow beauty
with a song that only the wind could know
or the flowers to hear.

it was by this gift
that the world knew the hummingbird.
silent as a child’s wish on a distant star,
quick as a clever thought upon waking.
the hummingbird is a sign of hope.
a miracle to be glimpsed amongst the flowers
_________________________________

Let me know your thoughts about these poems or your own experiences with faith. Take care.
b

Relationships and loss

As much as we don't talk about loss of relationships in our lives, loss is a part of the human experience. I want to address this issue carefully. I don't wish to be maudlin, but I want to present two poems about loss. I hope that these poems resonate with you. That you will appreciate the relationships you cherish now, and realize the wisdom you've gained from those lost.

This first poem I wrote for my sister, after her cat died. I think those of us who have spent much of our lives with our pets can relate.

so little a thing


feathersteps follow me room by room
enter as i exit. watch me with a quiet kind of love.
i know you aren’t there. i drift into the kitchen
(it is cold and confusing)

i grieve too much.

i know death and can see him/it/they/her
coming down long lit hallways (where i work).
Pillaging in that drawn out way of his/hers/its/theirs.
Leaving the living dumb in its/theirs/hers/his wake.
It/she/they/he leaves and i am sometimes
too busy to notice.

THE SUFFERING IS OVER!
WE TELL OURSELVES THAT DEATH WAS PERHAPS FOR THE BEST.
THAT PROLONGING THE PAIN (in ourselves)
WOULD BE CRUEL.
And i could never be cruel ...not to the shy,
happy cat that loved butterfly hunts.

I WANTED TO TELL DEATH TO BE GENTLE WITH YOU
THAT YOU WERE SPECIAL
THAT YOU SHOULD BE WITH SUNSHINE AND BUTTERFLIES
THAT HE/SHE/IT/THEY SHOULD GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME UNSHATTERED
(over so little a thing
as the death of a cat).
WANTED TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND
THAT IT IS SO HARD FOR ME TO LOSE YOU
THAT DEATH WAS ALL I HAD LEFT TO EASE YOUR PAIN.

I miss you
look for you in lofts of sunshine
and watch butterflies now
with a quiet kind of love.
______________________________________________

This next poem was hard to write. I tried to place myself in a room where loss is front and center. What happens when someone is face to face with the death of one's soul mate? Unable to do anything but witness it. I said that loss is part of the human experience, but must it be so damned devastating to us?

In Rooms Empty of Miracles


Tracked with tear sand
Old trails on such young cheeks.
“Talk to me just once. Pleasegodplease just say my name”.
Just squeeze my hand. Please don’t go.”
So the prayer/chant/beg/curse
Whispered hope continues.
Hold hands but not too tight
Remember the tubes
And the nurse
And the Doctor
And the BEEP..BEEP..BEEP...
BEEEE...

Hate/Love sound of life in balance
Death with foothold.
Hold back the tears as if courage will open
Those beautiful sad eyes of blue
Sorry ...So Sorry.
Beg/Chant/Bargain/Prayer.
“I love you so
We love you so much
Please God, just this once
Please.”

She is led away by silent nurses.
Looks of knowing burn her.
Callused sympathy from the ward
Having seen so many tears with no end in sight.
“Its for the best”, breaks through her numbing grief.
She clutches a sofa of dingy vinyl orange
Losing herself in a world of emptiness and pain.
Trickle streams of love dry slow
In rooms empty of miracles.

________________________________________________


From time to time I will share my thoughts about loss. But not too often. Please give me your thoughts. If you have trouble posting on this blog, try registering as a Follower. If that doesn't help, email me and if you give me permission, I will cut and paste your thoughts into the blog for you.. Thankfor reading.

b