Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The Gruber Legacy

When Edgewood wakes from winter's sleep
Her green grass growth measures ankle deep .
It is Spring, April is the queen of color's ball,
With lovely growing displays enjoyed by all .

Quick suck of air heaves out the chest
Accepting "uums" escapes with breath,
Atonement for bleak cold winter's wild
As pigment hues tweak our optic smile .

At bloom, flowering trees embrace each other
In a cotillion dance of bright confetti color .
Eye pleasures waltz across fields and glen
From nature's pallet are gifts to women, men .

Grand Marshal, Dogwood, draws all the raves,
Other dancers arrive while the symphony plays
Cords of color singing soft music to the heart .
Bless him, Edward, who planted trees for his art .

   Ronald C. Downie

Edgewood was the name given to the Gruber Family Estate now a well recognized golf course, Bellewood. 

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Look At Music - Listen To Art

Spring mother, Dear, conduct your annual symphony,
Lead us to heights in primal song . Memory plays
Our pensive harp awake with color cords ablaze :
Golden daffodil yellow - crocus choir harmony .

Notes of sweet tulip red and smooth hyacinth blue
Await drum beats deep in the gold of forsythia .
Wake up world ! Your colorful cosmic orchestra
Readies again to play life's spring concert for you .

Look at the music of flowers swaying the breeze :
Like a string section in unison its visual sound
Silent, so brain supplies the score to music round
The mood we feel. One's self, only you to please.

Listen to the native art of unfolding leaves :
Slow but steady in a stretch enlarging their span
Reaching heavenly in canopy over common man,
Who, at song, sings of Gods in self image, not trees.

Concert master, tune the instruments true
To the pitch of the seasons : winter, spring,
Summer, fall . Movements composed are to bring
Life full circle as all living are compelled to do.

Ronald C. Downie 


Beyond The Senses

Clambering for acceptance,
Mediocrity cast, bogged down,
Not understanding why I am
So serious while the World
Wallers in its superficiality.

Is my life a drama or a dirge ?
Can I accept universal song ?
May I see nirvana in the arts ?
Will I, the painter's eye, perceive ?
Is this me or is it a mirror of me ?

Ankles swelled, strong hands shriveled,
Eyes sight hindered clouded with tears,
More gum, not white what's left in tact,
Like Spanish Moss grey, less head hair,
Dropped chest rests like a flat tire,
Hobbling's more than a pain in my ass.

No longer pungent are tasteful smells. 
Where did my fine feeling fingers fly ?
Horizons, once sharp, bleed as if misty.
Guttural rumblings mute my Earth's Song,
Flavors of a bountiful table have escaped.
Post-eternity looms as an indomitable spirit.

Value an acceptance of yourself
Within the boundaries that society
Permits you of being the roll model. 
Be yourself, not that method actor,
Slipping on and off center stage.
With issues grapple, high goals climb.

Ronald C. Downie







Saturday, April 12, 2014

Why I Blog

I got interested in blogging when I realized I could distribute my many years of composition to a wider reading public than I ever could imagine. Nearing 80 years old, I realize I have much to say and a limited time to do it. Blogging gives my voice to a muted public.

With my blog, which is mainly posting poems written over three or four decades of the last half of my quite eventful, eighty years of life, I hope by example to encourage others to take advantage of emerging cyber capabilities to do the same. Beyond the poem, I hope to give the reader some insight into the reason behind me, developing it by adding some prose commentary, which may illuminate both content and construction.

I guess writing about my philosophical understandings of life is the most interesting thoughts I've been able to record. There is a stream I often refer to : facts accumulate into a stream called knowledge,
more easily formed today by the advent of the computer than ever before in human history, but it is what we find in this stream that propels human life swiftly forward, that we call wisdom. It is wisdom, sometimes called original thought, that is the Holly Grail of life, in my mind.

With so many holidays behind me, I guess what I like best about holidays is the gathering of family, because the family is the underpinning of all society and, from that, civilization.

I would eliminate fear in the World, if given a chance.

Ronald C . Downie. 

Friday, April 11, 2014

Passions

Beneath my hardened exterior beats a wanting not yet fulfilled. Am I like you? Are you like like me? Are we the disrespected among the mass of our community because we speak softly, with opinion we write, we keep to ourselves, are we a hidden muzzled minority?

Does History record our achievements in grand headlines or can they be seen in the script of the measured advance of civilization recorded by the multitude of post episode reporting? I hope so.

As Americans, we decide whether or not to live our lives in quiet desperation or on the thin edge of emotion. Passions are birthed out of the bubbling cauldron of emotions stocked full during our youth but, through time, diminish from the riggers of aging as I try to describe in the following.

Passions

Money to incarcerate, none to educate.
What's our future ? Where's our priority ?
Are we dumbing down America, the World ?
Dumbing down to give few, too much.

Have you no shame? College students 
Must borrow to learn, their learning 
Improves the lot of all Americans.
Congress is eating our seed corn !

Holidays are a time to give honor 
To those who give of themselves,
Who willing give making your life 
Safer, happier, and worth living.

If your not of immigrant ancestry,
You're of Native American linage
Who are awash in casino gambling.
Immigrants learn gambling easily.

It's will to live, beyond all else,
That drives people to longer life.
Having the will, is no guarantee,
Breathing longer is the answer. 

Ronald C. Downie

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Exit Interview

I've been thinking lately about who will be questioning  me at my Exit Interview, the one just after my last breath. Will I hear questions from below - from above ?

In anticipation I've been listening more intently to the Music Channels (400/450). I prefer Classical Masterpieces or Light Classical. Through them I can hear music from below as well as from above; the guttural dirge of base and drum - the lilting strings of a whispering heaven.

If asked about my generation, I'll have to apologize for mine. We seemed to be a militaristic one. Just post the Great Depression, mid-nineteen thirties, extending on for twenty some years. We lived though grade school  while the Second World War waged, we were there during Korea, followed with Vietnam, then Grenada, on and on. 

Many my age, like me, didn't serve in the armed forces since we fell short in years for one war and too old for the next. Did war for us seem just an annoyance, ok as long as some other guy was getting shot at, but not us ? Out of sight, out of mind allowed conflicts to go on and on with little public oversight. 

My generation perfected the age of disengagement, just opting out, no reason needed. We began the long drive for profits beyond reason, as they aged our members were caught up in the profits from the military industrial complex. The Stock Market was their playground; from the military industry they got their finances, my generation not only the puppets but also the string pulling puppeteers.

I apologize! 

Exit Interview- I best get busy thinking about it again or, at least, about the music which will follow me along as I sway on out.

Ronald C. Downie