"JOYOUS" BLACK FRIDAY

***********************
"CAN WE TALK?"
***********************

Alas and alack,
Who named that Friday
"BLACK?"

It is--- "the opening"
of the Joyous Season---
What is the reason
Someone had to call it:
"BLACK."

In my little poem
I will do my best---
to pro-test---
this awful name!

This name doesn't fit---
Not even a little bit---
Unless maybe your greed
causes a night spent
on the pave--ment...
In front of Best Buy.

Oh yes! We mortals
have skewed it up,
(Like just about everything
else on earth---that we touch...)

Do you see it?

Ah, the frost is on the tents
in front of Target---
(Where is James Whitcomb Riley?)
It is three a.m.
All are waiting for five a.m.

At five, all over town
Stores will open
Crowds will surge
People will be trampled---
There'll be a spate of calls
 to 911!

Some like I, who'd pay
(rather than "save")
fifty bucks, to miss
this fiasco---are snug in their
beds...
"While visions of sugar plums
dance..."

It is the day after Thanksgiving...
Carols will be playing,
inside and outside of stores!
There will be live Santas
and pictures of Santas...

There are Christmas lights
everywhere! There are false
icicles hanging from every
fake tree!
(Is there a metaphor there,
somewhere?)

The doors will open now
at any time!
A great spending spree is
about to be unleashed!
The joyous, bleared-eyed crowds
will surge forward in dangerous
trampling anticipation---
Of adding to their accumulation
of material things!

(O, let us not feel smug,
my reader: we may all
be guilty.)

In Heaven the angels
will fold their wings...
The seraphs forget to sing...

On Earth! It is the
CELEBRATION OF THE
SAVIOR'S BIRTH!!!!

It is---
BLACK FRIDAY!!

*******30*******
BY MIL
11/27/13


Sent from my iPad

THANKSGIVING- THE REAL DEAL

   

by Elizabeth Sieren, guest writer

                              

THANKSGIVING--THE REAL DEAL

2003

What is the opposite of Thanksgiving?

Forgetting the real reason we're living,

Ignoring the gift of God's love and forgiving grace,

Totally unaware of families' valued place,

Letting love of self and pompous pride abound,

Overlooking the beauty of life around.

Thanksgiving is more than a calendar holiday,

It is each opportunity we have to say

With words of honor, witness, and generous praise-

Thank you for the good life, your merciful, faithful ways,

For showering us with blessings, eternal and pure, 

For strength through salvation, our course straight and sure,

Thank you, O God, Thank you

 ----30----

FOR MIL'S PLACE
Liz Sieren, guest writer
11/26/13

ON A LONELY ROAD ONE NOVEMBER DAY

There I was, alone...

In the middle of

a sandy road

up in the high hills

north of Elk.

I wasn't exactly in the "middle..."

I was in the right rut

going downhill---right side---

a habit hard to break.

I wasn't exactly alone either...

A little lizard paralleled me for 

a dozen feet, in the sandy left rut...

A lizard still out five weeks from

The Winter Solstice!

I was hunting, with friends...

and in a fit of determination

had climbed that low hill...

which turned out to be 

a high hill.

It was mid-afternoon---

Suddenly the sun seemed

much lower...

Yogi would've said:

"It gets late early, up here."

All at once, it hit me:

"I am tired, thirsty, out of water

in my canteen--nobody knows

where I am...there's a cold nip

suddenly in the air...and I want 

out of here. I didn't mean

to come this far!"

My trusty used 30-30 which

I bought in college for fifty bucks

was also getting heavy.

I soon came to a dirt road,

heading downhill toward the sun..

Ah, my direction exactly!

Dirt roads, with lots of sand

in each rut, with a hotch-potch

of weeds and grass in the middle...

The ruts looked as if only vehicles

had been in them...

(Oh, there's a cow track...)

I plodded along, silently, in the 

right rut...the sun was getting lower...

And it was shining right down the ruts,

as if to show me the way...

I thought I could hear my boots

Whispering as they swiped thru the sand...

After walking awhile, the autumn sun

began to warm me...

and the silence started to scream!

Loud silence! An oxymoronic situation

for sure!

And all at once, I felt like I wasn't there...

In fact, I wasn't anywhere!

My oh my, what a great time

to sit and meditate on the creation

and the Great Truths of life.

But meditating wasn't for me

that day, on that two-rutted

sandy road coming down that 

mountain...

I wanted out...

I was young, 23, and in good shape.

I played tennis, and 

was Doubles Champ in ping pong...

But it had been a long day...

It happens to every hunter or hiker

at one time or another.

My dad, one winter day

in the fifties---while hunting, 

got off into the deep canyons

of the Magdalenas---time ran out...

it got late, and he told me:

"Suddenly, I wanted out!"

(My friend, have you ever driven

out around Ladron Mountain?

Now, if you get the urge

to really feel alone,

Drive down there, into

the back  country---

where you will find these 

marvelous two-rutted

sandy roads---

Park.

Walk in a rut,

on the soft sand,

It will go on, forever...

You'll find loneliness

there...solitude...

and let me know what else...

  .............you find.)

*******30*****

BY MIL

11/17/13

Sent from my iPad

A THOUSAND SHAWLS

If you've read T.S. Eliot
You've heard of
"A thousand lost golf balls."

If you've shopped 
with my Beloved Wife---
You've shopped for 
a thousand shawls.

I've always thought of 
"shawls" and old ladies,
in rocking chairs
Knitting...reading...
and stuff like that...
All wrapped up in
shawls!

Not so! My woman
is a sprightly, beautiful
chick---lithe as the
writers say---she looks
good in...shawls!

Myself, being a man...
I prefer parkas, Burberries,
leather jackets, levi jackets,
Pendleton wools...and 
with sleeves---PLEASE!
That way, no norther can 
pierce them or blow them
off'n me.

No, I didn't take Shawls 101---
I don't understand 'em...
See, they are too porous
for cold-natured me.
A redneck might say, 
and well-put:
"Wal, I reckon I don't
have no use...
for shawls."

But I guess they're stylish,
suave, debonair, cute...
Women like 'em.
My wife has a thousand
of them
give or take.

She is out
SHAWL-SHOPPING
right now.

And likely freezing.

********30*******
BY MIL
FOR DGM
11/15/13



Sent from my iPad

COUNTING THE LEAVES

*************************
ON SEEING IT ALL...
*************************

In a writing course
I learned that Joe Average
sees only
ten percent of his world.

Longfellow himself said:
"I'd rather travel with a poet---
They see and feel more."

Other writers say---
"Take your notebook with you
everywhere...and
write...even at restaurants!"

Mary Oliver, famous
Pulitzer poet wrote, in a poem,
no less, "I have my notebook
in hand as I go out the door,
in the mornings."

Oft this summer
As my dear wife and I sat
on our patio---in the sun...
The gentle winds were
rustling the trees...
Little birds were singing
and two were playing tag
way up in our pine tree...

...Did I open myself to any
and all thoughts, feelings,
and perceptions...trying
to tune myself to the
Spirit of God, Who was all
around and had "the whole world
in His hand..."

The mystery of the wind
fascinated and overwhelmed me;
The glimmer and shimmer
of the cottonwoods, mesmerized me...

As I sat there
My companion said:
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to absorb
the miracle of creation
into my finite mind---
to see the ninety-percent."
(How unpoetic that sounds!)

And I thought I had learned nearly
everything about trees...

Until...later...when

I read the incredible poet,
Mary Oliver...
Who climbed a tree, going
from branch to branch...

          With her notebook,

Marveling...and all the while...

Counting the leaves.

*******30*******
BY MIL
11/15/13

THE BUNDES BAHN

 by John Sieren, guest writer

 I was looking through some things today, and found a couple that I thought might interest you.  One is a publication by Headquarters, United States Army Europe, and is entitled "ATTENTION 50 METERS TO BORDER."  it deals with how Iron Curtain crossings endanger lives and create International incidents, what can happen to you as a prisoner of the communists, and among other things, learn how to avoid accidental border crossings.

    The second is a poem I evidently wrote when I was in Germany, and is about the Federal Railroad (Bundesbahn) in West Germany.  It follows.

  

THE BUNDES BAHN
by John Sieren
US54147703
PFC U.S. ARMY

Mirror-like windows,
Postage stamp fields,
Patch-work countryside,
These we saw and much much more,
On our Bundes Bahn ride.

The rails go clickety,
The rails go clack,
The train goes speeding on,
And all the people turn and wave,
Going by on the Bundes Bahn.

Beautiful forests,
Groups of homes,
As a phantom we speed by,
And in the cherished countryside,
Vagrant dreamers lie.

The things we saw,
Voices heard,
all assembled to one,
Friendly people called to us,
Riding the Bundes Bahn.

This was probably written on a religious TDY trip to southern Germany and Austria, in 1956.

----30----
FOR MIL'S PLACE
by John Sieren, guest writer
11-16-13 

DEATH KNELL FOR OUR DELL

Can we set
And talk a spell?
For I have a sad story
Which to tell...
It is about
The demise of our Dell.

Our old faithful
Computer friend
of many moons---
Had written many stories,
Looked up untold data,
And played many tunes.

A few months ago
It began to act
Like a senior citizen...
It was slow
It forgot that it was "on,"
And 'sposed to be doing
a job of some kind.
It sometimes seemed to just
Go to sleep.

One morning it didn't wake up.
It was in a coma,
Sorta.

So we called the best
Computer guy in the business---
Our friend, Dal
To work on our Dell.

He did surgery.
And he took all the
DRIVE out of our Dell...
Took it with him
To recover data---
Our Dell is just a shell...
Just a body...
Its soul is gone.

Well, why don't I tell you
How I wrote up the story
"News style?"

Here it is:
Alas, Dal, our Dell
Computer guy
Made a house call...
And said we'd have
To put down our old Dell.

The Beloved Editor said:
"Oh no, no, no,
Not our Dell!"

I left the room to write this
Poem...this tribute and obit
For a loyal and faithful friend
(I couldn't watch the ending.)

Here is my little verse:

"As computers go
Our Dell was swell!
It always answered the bell,
Up to its final knell.
Not much more I can tell.
No need to dwell."

(Okay, you try one...)

********30*******
BY MIL
11/12/13