Song Tune

"Song Tune" speaks to our very existence. The song of life is comprised of every sound, every noise occurring at any given time: The sound of an ABomb going off, a whale's song, the pecking of chick wishing to un-egg, the trill of an opera's high notes, its low, wind in the trees, talking or whispering by you and me.

It is regulated by that thing we call,Time. When passed gone forever, at the moment fleeting, in the future time for you may not happen. Time as we know it in our lives is highly regulated by clocks and calendars, night and day, the seasons, even our each breath ticks our hand of time.

So what do we have personal to ourselves? I suggest own own, Tune, this tune must be created by us individually to represent ourselves, our thoughts, our desires, our aspirations, our hopes. The following poem, Song Tune, speaks to these thoughts.

                Song Tune

                 The song,
             The song of life,
         The song of life is played 
             In the key of time.

Seconds tick minutes into hours for days to find
As weeks couple bearing months that years combine
Into passing decades etched forever on the mind.
Friends, in chorus, help harmonize the melody divine.

                   But, 
              But the tune,
            The tune is ours
          The tune is ours alone,
But the tune is ours, ours, all alone to find.

              Ronald C.Downie



  

A Cry From Mid- Space

    Cry From Mid-Space 

God damned you, Dreams, whore no more to me, release me
To covet grayness bleating from a sullen sky .
Don't show me violets pure nor roses gay that cry
My inter soul awake . No !  I must not think free .

Chain my mind, please stem that emotion swell
Within this hide so I do not hope in vain .
In image of his maker man can train
As oxen yoked to circle round the well .

I can not define mid- space where dreamers dwell ,
Far sight a scene then slowly squint it into
Mental pictures , like a frosted pane looked through ,
Is it real ? Is it heaven ? Is it, well is it, hell ?

Theater must be a hell for a lost dreamer's soul :
Not in dance around soothing flames and crackling sounds
That flow the senses' veins ; but of grey ash mounds 
Staged of choking soot waiting to fill a dreamer's hole .

Accept the young, they have not traversed the gorge 
Left by dreamers old whose torrent thoughts erode .
Fill the young with placid manna lest they explode
With alien notions thinking they're their own Saint George . 

Dreams - damn you !  Lay not your head on my breast this day .
Free me, so I may see what our Nation antes up :
Those dull, brow bent cast of actors who hold the cup,
Which keeps America hostage and wastes a dreamer's play .

   Ronald C . Downie    

Past Is Knowledge - Future Find Wisdom

The Past Is Knowledge, The Future, Wisdom

Water like thought calms when slowed
Into deep pools at quiet depths
Where mud and murk bottom settles
To clear the liquid for it's continued trip .

Thought, if not allowed to calm
And settle out nonessential 
Clutter keeping the mental stream
Clean, finds no clear ideas will surface .

As water makes it's long journey 
To the sea it encounters swiftly
Moving rapids and falls that roar
Before it again pools and calms .

So too, the mind's mental travel path
Must shoot the turbulences of doubt ,
Navigate trouble, and evil, and fear ,
Each cascading down until calm calms .

Ever since the dawning of time
When water appeared on the earth 
It adapted to Earth's Natural Laws,
Repeat, repeat, over and over, repeat .

In his time upright man found force
Beyond his physical prowess when
The utter strength of his mental
Ability raised him above common beasts .

The sun, the moon, stars, earth, water,
The air, the eagle, fire, wind, and rain
Man would experience and then worship .
But, as with water, strong storms disturb,

Alters flows, and interrupts calm
Quite common with Nature's way .
But thinking man dreams about the future
Thus he soon becomes uncertainty's victim .

The past is knowledge, the future, wisdom 
And through time knowledge accumulates ,
But wisdom is fickle , and the needed spark
Not timely, so wisdom has to be nurtured .

Water flows everywhere to the
Same Laws Of Gravity, while thought ,
Not contained within our physical world ,
Flows in a stream we seek to posses .

    Ronald C . Downie  

Shackled Two Millennium

  Shackled Two Millennium

Tribal God seekers understood
Gospels desired a certain style :
In a robe, tall, slender, beaded,
Long locks curling, wearing sandals,
Their messiah gained a human form.

Now, image is twenty-one centuries old
And still held onto by man. Religion
Imprisons it's believers into a rigid faith,
When disallowed to dream, man stagnates.   
Wrapped in the Bible, he is shackled to Christ.

         Ronald C. Downie .

The World Is restless but still wedded to its time worn belief systems bent on keeping a lid on the aspirations of followers sometimes no matter the costs in human life. Read Edwin Markham's poem "The MaN With A Hoe". He saw what's happening today long ago.

The Village Within

   The Village Within

   With all the flowers 
       Across from
    Golf Course Road,
     A couple of cars,
 A Cape Cod with a garage,
South of the railroad tracks,
     Old Reading Pike.
You'll see, color everywhere.

     A house in a village
          Stands out
  By its tendered colorful care
Displayed by those bedded flowers
      That engage the eye
     And capture an emotion
          To just visit.

              But,
        It is the village 
       Within these walls
That makes this place stand out.
It is the extreme love exhibited
       Awaiting the passing
         Of a mate's life
    Which mirrors Nature's Law :

      A season of germination,
         Birth and unfolding, 
     Then pressing into a burst
         Of colorful flowers, 
       Setting the stage again 
           For fertile seeds,
             Before a sleep.

       With a smile and a nod
    We pass the flowered abode
Happy to have seen the color display
   We feel a tug within the chest
             A twang from
          "The Village Within."

            Ronald C. Downie

For Sherri and family-
Remembering Steve Kurtz : husband, father, grandfather, son, brother, and friend to all.

Steve Kurtz was my son in law married to Sherri, my second oldest daughter, who has a gift With flowers especially perennials which grace her gardens.

Stephen Trevor Kurtz

Stephen Trevor 

Energy doubled, tripled, even squared
Describes you, Stephen, when compared
To every day events, say like, tornadoes, 
Hurricanes, earthquakes. God only knows

That deep reservoir wrapped within
Your body and your mind. Harness in
Desires' demands, channel your drive,
Embrace open arms as you do arrive.

Hey, Stephen Trevor, this is an old man's talk,
We try to slow youngsters to a pleasant walk.
You're doing just fine in your trip through life, 
But think, as you go, try to eliminate strife.

Ronald C. Downie

Words for a grandson.

Sheer Church Steeples

         Sheer Church Steeples 

Sheer church steeples spire to prick the sky,
Breach through which archangels fly
Down gathering in souls , their earthly try
To populate heaven for the man on high.

Celestial maypoles heaved up by man
Anchored earth mud mired to land.
Escaped the cave, down from the tree,
This two legged being in want of just be.

Just be, quite difficult alone by the sea,
Span of the Universe,"Immortality.?" asks he.
By chance or was Homo-Sapiens planned?
Heinous horrors logged under his command.

Pinioned in amber preserved through time
Cenozoic bee perfect pre-pre-mankind.
Pollen's magi while sperm still slime
Never dreamt Gods imaged in kind.

Eternally fanning frenzied on wings
Pungent waif sweet nectar brings
Worker collectors with death they atone
There universe ,Queen Bee, almighty on throne.

From your garden gently lift an open rose
Bring it within the scent stream of your nose,
Petal vapor? Bee scripture ? I suppose .
Neither crucifixion nor armageddon myths they chose.

               Ronald C. Downie.