I laid there alone in the coldest night;
You lit up the sky with stars like gems.
Like a tired old coat, I lost all might;
You helped me to lift my head again.
I looked at the sea but the beauty was gone.
You showed me the poetry in the ocean’s waves,
Then a sunrise shimmered like a hymnal song
And a grander thought — there’s a God who saves.
“The Mermaid and the Weary Traveller” by Bob Rich
After fighting nobly in a war, an exhausted soldier wandered off from his troop at night to rest in peaceful solitude, with trembling clouds of black and red ascending like smoky billowing sighs above the ash-covered trees that lined the pale winding road behind him. As he ventured away from the path into the dark forest, with the lingering memory of crackling radio transmitters and thundering bombshells now fading in his tired ears, the soldier soon discovered a legendary cove of seven colors, with a waterfall and a shimmering pool that was sometimes visited by a charming ladylike aquatic creature whose satiny kiss imparted life-long health. The soldier slowly took off his outer jacket, which was arrayed with medals that shone like clusters of white chiming moon-soaked mirrors in the cool quiet isolation of the night. He was careful not to bend or strain his broken, war-injured left hand. So, using his right hand, he folded his decorated jacket and used it as a pillow to rest his weary head upon.
When he awoke in the morning, the soldier turned toward the rippling waters of the pool beside him, and he gazed at himself in the sparkling pool. He noticed that he was still wearing his torn, frayed, and blood-stained shirt, which looked the same as it had the night before. He started to un-button the shirt, when it dawned on him that he was handling his shirt effortlessly with his left hand, which now was whole, healthy, and nimble again. Looking back to his reflection in the water, he studied his face more closely, and saw that his face had been kissed in four places, where glistening blue lip-gloss was shining in the pattern of enchanted lips on his cheeks and eye-lids. Awe-struck, the soldier touched one of the blue lip-prints on his cheek, smudging the mouth-shaped magical trace of blue. In his bewildered stupor, he could not see that, when he reached his hand back to rest against a tree while he pondered this strange moment, he smeared a bit of the blue onto some dried-out desiccated gray-brown roots, which, upon receiving the blue lip-stick from his hand, regenerated to a vibrant reddish-brown while sprouting green leaves with rapidly-blooming white flowers.
Then, the soldier was also too busy repairing his compass to notice that — a little farther downstream, rising up from the water — there was a white plume of foam surrounding the graceful silhouette of a twirling sweet woman with golden hair who, instead of legs, had the tail of a fish.
We still can hear the music, From the life of lady Star, And, melodies still arise, Like notes plucked from a guitar, Each passion she held onto, Tells her story like a song, The songs all form a cycle, With a span an album long, The first song on the album, Brings to life the home she made, With her burnished fine antiques, And bright flowers she arrayed, The fragrant smell of lilacs, That was magic she kept near, She longed to be a florist — Studied it as a career, And she admired animals, Such as dogs and ducks and horses, And she watched the leaves change color, As the seasons took their courses, And each song of things she loved, Plays on, for those who’ve missed her, Which includes her love of art, And crafting with her sister, And they cooked together too — Meals they cooked were quite a thrill, Plus, she loved to dance and sing, And played dulcimer with skill, Stevie Nicks’ songs filled her life, Like: “Landslide,” “Leather and Lace”… Tom Petty and Bob Seger, Brought a smile to her face, What really made her happy, Were the family times she had, Her son Cody gave her joy, And so did her mom and dad, She had a ball at Christmas — She made any party brighter, Yet the light she shone was dimmed, When she proved she was a fighter: She defended a young girl, Who was struggling in a bar, Though she made that sacrifice, In our memories, she’s not far. * * *
Background details: Star stood up for and defended a young lady in a bar and did not survive the event. Her many fine qualities are remembered by many, and this poem was written as a tribute for her.
The town had its full share of sorrow,
For too long, they ate sadness like bread,
They longed for a sweeter tomorrow,
For a day without black clouds of dread,
Their hopes had been ground to a powder,
And their dreams: like a dazed wounded horse,
The birds wept with sighs ever louder,
And the dogs moaned with blue mournful force.
A painter who lived near a mountain,
Was struck down by an illness immense,
He gasped like a slow-draining fountain,
And collapsed while re-painting his fence,
He lied on his bed for eight hours,
With this unwelcomed guest called disease,
He’d touched souls with artistic powers,
Now this sickness brought him to his knees.
Then, after eight hours had finished,
He was far too exhausted for art,
His strength had so greatly diminished,
And he longed to feel life in his heart,
And, wrapped in bed sheets, green and yellow,
Then he staggered out to his backyard,
His mood was calm, languid, and mellow,
This malaise, he desired to discard.
It was then that the yellow light fell,
And the painter looked up at the sky:
There were clouds tolling light like a bell,
With a luminous music on high,
The orange sun: gradually sinking,
Like a fire-drenched depth charge lit up,
And regions of clouds were all drinking,
From the light spilling from the sun’s cup.
One cloud realm looked like a great ocean,
Like a vast rumbling red coral reef,
Bright flecks in the reef were in motion —
Glowing planes, hid in clouds like a thief,
Seahorses are what the planes turned to,
Horses searching, adrift, blazing, curled,
And one thing the painter learned brand new:
Each sunset’s an ephemeral world.
The painter stared up at the light show,
While the stages of time cycled by,
The clouds changed to a dark purplish glow,
One cloud pulsed with a copter’s bright sigh,
And, inside his eyes, all these lights shone,
Eyes reflecting the sky’s stirring sea,
And his heart felt high up, on a throne,
He could see an art project to be…
He’d paint a great series of sunsets,
Each one different and vibrant and grand,
And each picture would say: life’s regrets,
Should not keep us from destinies planned,
In days that soon followed, he made them –
These paintings of sunsets in awe,
The whole town – men, women, and children,
Were amazed at these pictures they saw.
And the city got into routines,
When the sun fell, they’d all go outdoors,
They would crowd roads and hills and ravines,
To watch the sky’s bright glowing shores,
The town’s moms, when their kids became ill,
Would take their kids out at day’s end,
And the kids would get well with the thrill,
Of a sunset, which made their health mend.
And a thief, whom the city knew well,
Soon got caught stealing bread from some trays,
While in prison, he wept in his cell,
Since he couldn’t view sunsets for days,
When released, the thief cleaned all his words,
He reformed all his ways for all time,
He took care of stray dogs and lost birds,
And, in verse, thanked the painter in rhyme.
Lindsey Baum is a young lady who is always having fun
At a party, you hear laughter: she is usually the one
She can easily talk for hours since she likes to socialize
As the center of attention, she brings smiles to our eyes.
Lindsey cares for animals, especially her dog Kadence
And she values little kids, and relates to them with patience
She enjoys creative expression, to sing and dance and write
She also is athletic, and swims with sheer delight.
When you’re ten years old, life should be bright, and you should be carefree
As you eagerly look forward to teenage discovery
Yet, in June 2009, Lindsey vanished from her hometown
Our search will be relentless til the day that she is found.
* * *
Learn more about Lindsey Baum:
http://www.findlindseybaum.com/
“R2-D2 Likes to Watch Sunsets” is a poem by Bob Rich
I once had a dream of R2-D2
In the dream, we had a nice game of chess
And he told me of stories from his past
In one area, his life was a mess.
He had a lost love, a nice robot girl
But for years they hadn’t spoken too much
Cosmic battles and galactic hassles
Made it hard for R2 to keep in touch.
I said he should call her at the pay phone
He needed quarters — I grabbed a fistful
They shared a very nice conversation
That’s when I saw a robot get wistful.
For four years, an angel has held a heavy sword of justice in its hand
Waiting, the angel stands with eternal patience inside the darkness
The angel’s blistered hand still strongly gripping the sword
Which will one day fall upon those who caused Jessie to step out of the light
Early 2006: Jessie was seen at 1009 Cornerstone Place, Las Vegas
Then the light of her presence could not be seen
Many have been looking
But she has never been hidden from the Cornerstone in heaven
The Stone who is the highest of angels, with unsleeping eyes of fire
Whose burning stare pierces even into deepest, farthest darkness
Word came back that Jessie was missing overseas
In a country across the ocean
And a lighthouse still shines at the center of the earth’s stirring sea
Its warm bright prayer of light beaming up through the clouds
Reaching even beyond the sky
To where the highest of angels sees all things
Who saw Jessie as a child
In a glowing blue dress, laughing
Saw her in her youth when she lightly held the warm, softly padded paw of a dog
And in her teens when she sat with friends in a restaurant at night —
When she stared smiling at the glass of soda with carbonation bursting
Like bright liquid fireworks over the rim of the glass …
The angel of hope: who sees Jessie now.
* * *
