Sunday, January 28, 2007

Well, It's been a while and I have some excellent post ideas to form, however they were shrugged off for this. A friend of mine from Gunnison days died this past week in a ski groomer accident. A good guy, we went on a canyoneering trip and just got along well. He was a guy, as my friend Annie put it, that made you feel important, always. I wrote this for his family.


Ballad of a Crying Man

Reclining back in leather couches, ten men, there were,
With blubber pouches.
Discussing what and this or that; the problems past,
Gone in generations.
“Here it is! The idle youth, off to travel, spend their father’s,
Good earned fruit.”
Another raised his glass to that, “Squanderers ALL! If not for us,
Drunk, down, to the dregs, be’ our great nation”.
Clamorous grunts were raised, to adamant affirmation. But, just then,
A quiet voice, did I dare raise amidst the rubble,
“Knew I once a man, one of the worst offenders of what you say.”
Grumbling murmurs accompanied me along the way,
“Traveler”, competing with, “A ski bum cook, or of the like;
Putting them to work be’d my delight”.

But carried I, on with my cry;

What gives life and what makes right,
Is it what you suggest? But might?
This man I knew he lived his life,
For others good and their delight.

A man content with humble praise,
His friends regarded, from day to day.
Filled? Were his chests with paper honors?
Filled! Was his chest with love, honorable.

Stand you important, here today?
This man, for others lived; their
Importance; day to day. Flowing
Goodness, lived, in “simple” ways.

You’ve made you life in pride and strife.
Exemplified the pride of Life.
Greatness have you gained tonight?
This man, his pride was heart and light.

Stopped of a sudden, with wild eye, did I. Shifting glances, lighted seats,
Hearts subdued in quiet peace.
And for that day I’d like to think, a manliness of truth,
Their paths they did pursue.
But if not, it’s a small matter, because a friend has great effect
On but a few of friends and brothers.
And if this done in right ways for consistent days, his life has meaning,
Greatness; surpassing man made praise.

1 comment:

Mr. Robot said...

I am sorry to hear about your friend ... Oh how short and fragile is the life of man. I thought the poem quite appropriate too.