Quiet House on Christmas Eve
The dog and cats are still
Wife and daughter in bed
The kid with presents on her head
Those things that make us grow
Till wisdom comes and helps us so
We understand the action is not with our toys.
Instead its with our joys
So wife and daughter are the greatest blessings
And after that the cat, and dog and fish
But I only have one wish
That Santa soon would come
And with his work finally done
I can go to bed. Amen.
poem by Bill Grace
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Morning's Silence
In morning's deep silence I know that they are there
Mother, Father, Aunts, Uncles - others who though gone could care
Great teachers, mentors, class mates - team mates who are no more
Rogue's for leaven and girl friends long from touch
Especially those fond illusions destined to never touch back
Or perhaps too beautiful to consider anything less than perfection
In silence they all speak and kiss - but only in silence.
poem by Bill Grace
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The Death of Wes Herd
From half a continent away
The confirming call comes
That my old friend's great friend is gone.
The grief is not well hidden
In that voice I know so well
Deer hunting and time will prove therapeutic
For me it was a story:
With his death on Thursday on Tuesday
A blue grass band came to wish Wes well
He got out of his bed and played the spoons.
Blue Grass and love
An alliance more powerful
Than even the spectre of death.
poem by Bill Grace
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Three Gods Best Avoided
Power, pleasure and fame are three Gods best avoided
Power for leading only to its own corruption
And denial of death where power ends.
Pleasure for its involution upon the self
Where freedom lies in finding others
The self a false center.
Fame for ephemeral lure
To those deprived of love's true nourishing milk
Easily forgetting that ax murderers
Have fame to no avail.
Power, pleasure and fame are three Gods best avoided.
poem by Bill Grace
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The Newspaper Girl's Success
Our newspaper delivery folk have come and gone
But mostly gone so I have taken note of one
Who seems to stay.
Late this morning
She sweeps into our street
Driving against what would be
The normal flow of traffic
With papers for every subscribing drive way.
Exiting she does not see
The dog, the stop sign or me.
Beyond one day's manic concentration
She is a south paw success story
That tells - in part - the secret of a greater success.
poem by Bill Grace
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Two Days After Learning of Arthur G. Kaplan’s Death
The wound is very present
But not bleeding from the post card that informed me
Blood clotting from the day’s business:
Doughnuts purchased for Sunday School
Daughter taken to a morning’s gymnastic lesson
Photograph with Alamo backdropp required in down town San Antonio
Lunch with wife and daughter on the fly
Telephone call from the General
The busyness that takes the mind from its ache
Perhaps, even begins to assist the process of healing.
poem by Bill Grace
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Scratch Off Heaven
The discarded scratch offs
Told of another chance at heaven lost.
One thought - perhaps they were purchased
By a commercial realty tycoon -
This is the way it should work
Those having wealth gaining their 'more.'
No, the tycoon will be on the golf links
Or perhaps even in church seeking his heaven.
Six dollars in scratch offs helping to guarantee
The tycoon will stay rich and buttresing my Mother's wisdom
Heaven is won one hard step forward at a time.
poem by Bill Grace
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911 Memoriam Words
911 Memoriam
The sky in Texas mourned this day
A million places joined her.
First thought a movie
Then realization of news
Then fears for civil liberties
Relapse into television addiction
......The face of the young fireman caught going up
.......By one of the survivors coming down.
At another massacre in another time in another place
General Bradock's dieing words come home:
'Who ever would have thought it? '
THEY did.
My month of shock their joy.
poem by Bill Grace
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Carlyn's Poem (1976 chapbook) (density ****)
'Seven Golden Daffodils' came to me
And peace to try at poetry
'Seven Golden Daffodils' touched my days
A life reshaping in new ways.
Orange sun and frosted mount
Emerald isles in silver laced seas
White sloop from fable named Halcyone.
Wine that caught the fire's glow
Enchanting melodies from silver strings
Golden flames - cracked sparks to fling.
Faces that returned a smile
Friendship warming as a child
Flying feet on oaken floors
All of this and even more.
poem by Bill Grace
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Suicide Tsunami
From public school my wife reminds me of the suicide
She left four children and a husband
A poet saddened who never met her
A poet who remembering very little
Still remembers the first sight of water withdrawing
Reports that at least one child was blinded by the blast
Forgive the editorial this is not a matter of class
If anything those with more
Seem to have a higher score
I don’t know about the husband
BUT FOUR CHILDREN
This poor soul just pointed
The Houston nurse thing in the other direction.
poem by Bill Grace
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