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Grandpa and Other Notes

Aug. 03 ?

Poet: tomas belsky

"continuation of finding verses perhaps worthy of the electro-majestic space they consume."

this page I hardly remember writing probably two or so years ago. today is Aug 1, 03.

If this were the last pencil in existence what should I scribe with it?

For Vinicius de Morais who taught that the true value of poetry resides in its eternal inutility and consequent capacity to move mountains.

Oh so many years ago
My grandpa said to me
"You want to know where you came from son?
I'll tell you plain--from me
and powers above
from the blessings of love
and a picnic beneath this tree.

"Twas a rather warm day
in the month of May
When your grandma, Sarah, and I went a courtin'
We settled right here
for the view it was clear
and the shade from the tree was invitin'
Birds dallyin' above
(their billin and cooin an what all)
encouraged our love
So we laughed and giggled as youth will do
and we ate till we both had our tummies full, too
and I turned to sweet Sarah and said kinda shy
This tree, these birds, this valley and sky
How lucky we are dear
Let us not dally.

"Beneath this tree we vowed our love
to care for each other all others above
I whittled this heart in the bark of this tree
You see it remains, I'll show it to thee.
Your mother was born of that picnic in May
Granny and I we married soonafter
what else can I say?

"This tree was our pastor
Best man, maid of honor
Your mother, I'm told, likes to picnic here too
Those birds' songs above, son, they may be for you.
Take care of this tree, it's part of your story
Birds live in its branches and sing of Love's glory.

"There's many a tree in 'most every town
might tell the same story
this whole world around.
Just one more thing I want you should know
Where, after Life, do you think that we go?
Grandma and I we figured it out:
Our souls fly to trees where they scurry about
as birds on these branches
and there they wait, these souls, patiently
for lovers to picnic neath boughs of their tree
they carve their vows into the bark
and fluttering souls descend and embark
New life
New Joy
New light in the dark.
In baby's eyes we see the refrain
Old souls so happy
to be born again.

"You owe it to the trees, my child,
You owe it to the trees."

*********************************

Verses

If rhyme comes early
beware
the chains that glitter
oftimes sink the vessel mid voyage
this page I hardly remember writing probably two or so years ago. today is Aug 1, 03.



If this were the last pencil in existence what should I scribe with it?

For Vinicius de Morais who taught that the true value of poetry resides in its eternal inutility and consequent capacity to move mountains.

Oh so many years ago
My grandpa said to me
"You want to know where you came from son?
I'll tell you plain--from me
and powers above
from the blessings of love
and a picnic beneath this tree.

"Twas a rather warm day
in the month of May
When your grandma, Sarah, and I went a courtin'
We settled right here
for the view it was clear
and the shade from the tree was invitin'
Birds dallyin' above
(their billin and cooin an what all)
encouraged our love
So we laughed and giggled as youth will do
and we ate till we both had our tummies full, too
and I turned to sweet Sarah and said kinda shy
This tree, these birds, this valley and sky
How lucky we are dear
Let us not dally.

"Beneath this tree we vowed our love
to care for each other all others above
I whittled this heart in the bark of this tree
You see it remains, I'll show it to thee.
Your mother was born of that picnic in May
Granny and I we married soonafter
what else can I say?

"This tree was our pastor
Best man, maid of honor
Your mother, I'm told, likes to picnic here too
Those birds' songs above, son, they may be for you.
Take care of this tree, it's part of your story
Birds live in its branches and sing of Love's glory.

"There's many a tree in 'most every town
might tell the same story
this whole world around.
Just one more thing I want you should know
Where, after Life, do you think that we go?
Grandma and I we figured it out:
Our souls fly to trees where they scurry about
as birds on these branches
and there they wait, these souls, patiently
for lovers to picnic neath boughs of their tree
they carve their vows into the bark
and fluttering souls descend and embark
New life
New Joy
New light in the dark.
In baby's eyes we see the refrain
Old souls so happy
to be born again.

"You owe it to the trees, my child,
You owe it to the trees."

*********************************


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