ONE SHOT WEDNESDAY -- SEA-LOVE

ONE SHOT WEDNESDAY

LOVING THE SEA 

LOVE THE SEA

Sea of blue-hued beauty
Standing here before you
With respect, admiration
To give you, and love
Yes, love

It is said peace and happiness
(Sometimes warily sharing),
Are those keys to
The door of fulfillment
What of love?

Constant flowing of giving,
GIFTING the unsuspecting
This is the clue
I give you
It's called love

Thank you, oh ocean-body
Huge of water and life
You rage and tumble about
Yet suffer not from strife
I accept your love.

You are my friend, teacher:
Blues of the sweetest hues
Before you I stand erect
In awe and in respect
And in love

And I give you...
Me

--steveroni

One Shot Wednesday is a place where we gather to speak poetry. It's pretty simple, and doesn't even need to rhyme...so go write a poem, and come join us. The fun begins TUESDAY at 5pm, EST.

MAGPIE 33 BODY SCENT!

Go to MAGPIE TALES for more, and/or to 

take part in the 'nearly-no-rules' fun!

FOUR HAIKU

FOR YOU

what beautiful tones

this violin, only when

played by a violinist


the mighty old oak

no longer is so great if

no one is to see


A poem utters

only its nonsenses when

nobody to read


Parfum-- is useless

to the sweet loveliness of

your body so bare

--steveroni

PICTURE THAT!

 THE FARMER AND THE FOTO
 
I love looking at pictures
Of people, places and things
I search them out, to view again
.....Again and then the
Dammmm phone rings...

"Hey YOU! Did receive my photos?"
Of course I did, my Baybeeee
I wish to look more and see
You. But where are your clothes?

You were else nought
But very bold
At the same (Wow!) hot
But very cold

Thank you again
For what you send
I SO love the view
And I SO love YOU

Riinnnnggggg! That phone again?
Nope! Alarm clock telling me time
To awaken. Just how
Am I supposed to now
Get up and push that plow?

No dreams tomorrow night of mine

--steveroni

In the late thirties and early forties I lived with a group of six "bachelor farmer" type men
(Army rejects) and my family. Looking backwards, I know there were many dreams in that farmhouse...mostly of girls, nakedness, drinking, fun, and fun, and not much else. Not yet age ten, I was secretly one of those dreamers.

Never once did I say to myself in the mirror, "Hey, you...steveroni. Maybe one day YOU can drink a pint of Muscatel before breakfast, be drunk before dinner, and not remember supper. Then Steve, YOU can also lead a life of pure (false) guilt and misery, and be filled with a hundred forms of fear, paranoia, resentment, anger and jealousy.

And you can finally graduate (Oh! finally?) into the ranks of daily drinker, daily drunk. And one day your GOD (alcohol) will turn on you and leave your heart and soul bleeding. Instead of making yourself believe you were above--better than--the others, your God of 20+ years will say 'fuck you', steveroni, as He abandons you.

 Then that God--alcohol--will look for millions who have not lost much yet, and proceed to lead them down the same dark stairway to hell-on-earth. Now, Steve--isn't that an ideal life--he way you WANT it to be?"

Alcoholism, the killer disease, wants me and countless others DEAD. Alcoholism tells me I do not have a disease--just a slight lack of will power. Alcoholism is patient, having until the end of time! I don't have that long.

Peeps! Without any intention of doing so, I really got on the soapbox this time, right? Well, I wish for everyone here who needs and wants it, to experience the peace, love, and happiness which has been given freely to me through the AA program, the lives and life it has redeemed.

S

SPOOFERINO VIOLINO

SEVENTY-TWO YEARS TOGETHER

NOTE:  A POST ON  JULY 10, 2010 INSPIRED ME TO 

"COPY-CAT" AND I WISH TO THANK YOU THANK YOU (echo?)

CLAUDIA FOR ALLOWING ME SOME LICENSE IN USING 

YOUR IDEAS AND A FEW OF YOUR OWN WORDS. 

I HAVE IMMENSE RESPECT FOR YOUR 

TALENT AND YOUR BLOGGING.

VIELE UMARMUNGEN!

Your were age nine, I tender five
So young we, but very much alive
My mother gave you to me
And me to you. You see
It was not a marriage made in heaven
Me only five, and you...eleven

I touched you... I lovingly smelled.
(Relationship in doubt for several years)
You vibrated, and "OH!" you yelled
'Til screaming hurt Peeps' ears
Eleven was heaven
Five--still alive

They said it could never, ever be done
My hands could not fit your body
I touched your smoothest neck--and you were won
Over. I drank of your muse like a toddy
Unseemly to most--this marriage in heaven
When one was five, the other eleven

As I rubbed my hair over your rounded top
You had never, ever said "Stop!"
Ribs on  your sides, they loved my touch
"Maybe", said the Peeps, "Way too MUCH!"
Heaven and earth had waited
Eleven and five finally mated

My fingers slide over your body, pluck your strings
Slip around your neck, to do just those things
Which drive you to rhythmic shaking
Vibrating.

My lips brush slowly over sanded slopes
Kiss cherry-stained covering of God's wondrous art
The rest of me standing there...still...feet apart.
Whilst all of nature with me hopes

So good to spend time with you
We've spent lots of time together...
Hours of holding you, now not so new
Bliss'ly tied with our hearted tether

I fell in love with your smooth sound
You stole my soul from first moment.
I held you then, under my arms
As if to shield you from harms

Since, I tried countless others
But none ever to compare
With you, here, next to me
While those others just stare

You react quickly to what I suggest to do
I love to express all my emotions through
You, always true to your word
Forever gone wherever I lured
You are a mirror of my soul
You are earth, I am the mole.

When we perform, we love
And the Peeps below and above
Share with us All the Joy
Chords, Sounds,
Notes, Melodies.

Now at the end
It is now
We bow:

You, then
Only eleven
I merely five
Many, many winters ago
On a farm far, far away
Amid flying snow

I love you
My violin....

--fiddlemn aka steveroni

Inspired by, and a few of her 

own words used from 

Blogger-Friend CLAUDIA  

SCRIBBLINGS

 EOS

...SO EARLY IN THE MORNING!

What is it I hear
Yet so unclear?
--Ringing?
Singing?

An angel came and took my hand
I felt as in a foreign land...and
As I awakened to rosy-fingered dawn,
Remembered--today I mow the lawn.

(Those exciting first four notes of Beethoven's

Fifth Symphony

Remind me daily of what must come before all else

...OR else!)

I actually SING this:

GET ON YOUR KNEEEEES...
Thank You God for sobrieties
For friends who stay at home I pray
For those Peeps who roam I pray...

"Please watch over N and D and M and C and V and

M and P and PG and D and Z and S and E and S and

J and J and C and C and Anonymous "L", G and K and

AK, and ML and G and I and S and S and F and C and...  

And...and...and SO many others!"

But first things first, the ex-drunks meeting:
At 7AM, still sober, and here we are greeting
One another, every single ninety of us.
I ride my Suzuki, instead of the bus.

OH! This scooter, a Bergman 650 cc
Zero-to-seventy in "under three"...
Early morning, breathe fresh, cool air
Ride right on, watch the People stare

At one of the happiest Peeps I know
Scattering peaceful seedlings to sow
Seeds of pure JOY where ere I go
Smiling...passing those who drive slow.

Detouring onto an old country road,
Turned quickly--leaving alive a huge toad.
I smell the stuff which makes grass grow
And perfume elsewhere in the breeze-blow.

Flowers there and here, ahhh--sweeter flavor
Midst odors of dry, wet, decay and tilled earth
I know God's world is ummmm, not a dearth
But a place where this Peep can still savor

Music, Poetry, Paint and Prose
Sleep, awake, and siesta-doze
Sobriety, God, peace--the dove,
Beauty, serenity, life and LOVE.

I'm sure that by now you well may see
Seventeen lines above--that Joyful Peep...
That happiest of Peeps was--is...ME!

--steveroni

WELCOME HOME!

 Doing this humbles me, 

because she is SO good! 

But I must do it...

SO HAPPY TO WELCOME BACK 

THE POET-QUEEN NEVINE

WELCOME HOME!

Such a great measure has passed, of time--
Since we've scrutinized--through words--your soul;
Whisperings, obsessions, sensings in rhyme,
Phantasies missing for so long, have taken their toll.

But now, the return of scent-hues, fiery spirits
And certainly more of your far-reaching visions
Have brought back peace and happiness, so it's
Today--NOW!--that I am making the decisions

To follow that wonderful blog by the Queen.
Peeps you must have guessed who I mean  
The one and only Sweetest Poet-Queen
Click here on her name.....NEVINE!

--steveroni

NEVER IS FOREVER

A POEM IN THE SERIES
"SHE GONE AND LEFT ME"

by steveroni

NEVER IS ALWAYS AND FOREVER

A POEM IN THE SERIES
"SHE GONE AND LEFT ME"
by steveroni


It's one thing for low
In my life to hit.
Another thing to know,
To taste it a bit,

One, to wallow in the mire
Or buy a bottle and drink
Worse, to hang by a wire
Not longer able to think

Of consequences
Of the right
Or the wrong;
Of nonsenses
As in words
Of this song:

"It's been seven hours and fifteen days
Since you took your love away
I go out every night and sleep all day
Since you took your love away
Since you been gone I can do whatever I want
I can see whomever I choose
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant
But nothing
I said nothing can take away these blues
`Cause nothing compares
Nothing compares to you..."
 

Lyrics Excerpted from :
"Nothing Compares 2 U"--a song written in the 1980s by Prince for The Family

Painting by  AFREMOV

ANOTHER POEM

A POEM

A sunken vessel...only the timber is floating
The gods are gloating
Emoting

I had been bowing on my violin
Blowing loudly my horn
Boating on the oily
Slippery sea of life

Now singing
Now thinking
Now wanting
Now sinking

Must out of myself
Must help others
Must comfort, not comforted be.
More thinking--yes
But not now about...ME!

I still sink
On the brink
Of despair
Atop the mare.

Now rotting on the shore
But still a part of
Every other thing
Nor to be apart
From the rest of the world

Ostracized? Yes!
Unique? No!
Solitude? Yes!
Isolation? No!

One day soon again
Over my little island
The sun will shine
On perfect sand--and
Thou be mine
And I...Thine

--steveroni

I'LL BE THERE--ANONYMOUSLY!

THE POEM

OH!  The wind in my face
Wet, dry, warm, cold
Big trucks want to race
I tell them, "I'm too old!"


So, off and riding I go
Eye on odometer
Speeding at a hundred or so
Racing to my sepulcher.

This Bergman, so nifty

Rides up a steep mountain grade

Passing trucks doing fifty

And I watch their images fade.

Passing, I focus on the rear vision glasses.

I'm seeing behind.

Suddenly, unexpected, a thought passes.

I'm being...blind.

Racing, facing, bracing

for the great inevitable shock

Dreading, praying, praying

Even the mountain is about to rock

Cannot see in front or around

I did not, do not feel a thing

What is that light...and sound?

It is my God--and His angels sing!

"We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness"

One of the "promises" in our "Big Book" Alcoholics Anonymous. P 83

THE STORY

As a child on the farm, I remember owning a dog "Lassie"--yes, named after the Roddy McDowall-Elizabeth Taylor (sigh!) movie "Lassie Come Home".  And I WAS Roddy McDowall, and my Collie--Lassie--and I celebrated many moonlit late evenings behind the horse barn plotting our escape from home, family, friends, school and mates. Of course, Liz Taylor figured prominently in our plans.


We looked at all the angles--I shared all this with Lassie. All would have been OK, except for one real real problem, money.  The salary of a fellow age 10 in 1943 living on a dairy farm was wayyy below poverty level.  A whole week's salary for after-school work netted me enough for 2 candy bars and 2 dog biscuits.  We were in trouble.  I do not know what became of our Lassie.


But.....Dear soul!  I believe she was trained to find half-full bottles of Muscatel hidden around by the hired hands.  She brought them to me, or me to them.  I can still taste the Muscatel of those years, especially its pungently-flavored uniqueness as it came back up and spouted out from my ten-year-old stomach--grin!


The wanderlust which I shared with Lassie never left.  It has become a character defect--not an obsession, but a need, a necessity, to GO somewhere, to be a gone guy.  "Where'd he go?  I dunno"...and I have found that very few give much thought as to where someone disappeared, and those few forget in a matter of days or weeks.


Outside of Alcoholics Anonymous there is no happier activity I could entertain than carrying my bag on a bus, Suzuki Bergman, train or plane, and up, up, and awayyyy!   It is more a "coming to" somewhere than a "getting away" from something.  There is nothing I do not LIKE (love!) where I live, there is just so much to discover where I've not BEEN.  I would have a sort of goal, but not a map of how to get there.


When I traveled with an orchestra, the guys would complain when we were four weeks out, saying they wanted to be home.  I complained because there were only two weeks remaining out on the road.


Whether in India or Indiana, Paris, Kentucky or Paris France, Dublin, Ohio or Dublin Ireland there is ALWAYS nearby an AA meeting, a "home", Peeps who know me, Peeps who are kind, considerate, giving, and loving. I am still learning how to respond to that love, and life is simply fabulous!


Let's be kind, considerate, giving, and loving today...and sober!