Noon at the lagoon

I tried to walk it off
                               (instead of keeping me in)
                             heading afoot toward the lagoon
                                     (a Tuesday at noon)
For peace sake,
                        with the marine layer pushed back
                            convinced, I headed onshore
                        (at times against the salty breeze)
Attacking it sideways
                       and I knew my grandfather would have said
                                              Invictus-perhaps
                                                  (I plod on)
Not exercising, I stood out,
                         with my pedestrian thoughts
                                       (aimless wandering)
                             but I find sense sometimes...
At the lagoon, bright blue-green
                          speckled with orange
                          Garibaldi all along the riff-raff
Ah-the smell! Simply incredible, soulfully edible,
                         (through rose colored glasses)
                                        savory and savoring the solitude...
And I did find what I was not looking for-
                                        On cue-loudly from the rocks below
                                        a ground squirrel stood chirping, erect,
                                        ear piercing, his body jolting- he sung
                                        (bellowing for none)
Happy with his little self,
                                         a lone mammal on the precipice
                                         squawking on a Tuesday
because he had something good to say,
in a barking beechey marmot way.
                                          I think he said I should stop
                                          (chip) monking-around
                                          I heard him, loud and clear.

Victum de forte

Shadowed by the light that blinds me,

           Purple aura glows from head to toe,

I rue this Infinity

           For my limited role.

In the whirlwinds of change

           I face the gale, often fail,

Hidden behind circumstance,

           My body bruised, I break down-

Only to moor in the cove of Covetousness.

             Sharing in the commonwealth of golden sunsets

Still, those ropes of regret, tangled and taut

              Hold fast under threat.

Now I see, reflected in tranquility

              Of calm waters-grandaughters-

Cutting this rope, intrepidly, victoriously 

               Is my only strand of Hope.

(This poem was inspired by the poem Invictus, written by William Ernest Henley (1849-1903) which was one of my grandfathers favorite poems and was included in his memorial, the original poem & audio is linked and follows below)

Invictus 
by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


Image By Sidney Sime [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, The Ship of Yoharneth, (1911).