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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

~ Words For You, Just Ask

Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: New Year

Around the Sun Again

01 Tuesday Jan 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in New Year, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Earth, Joy, Love, New Year, Peace, Poem

sunset-815270__480

Happy New Year, much like
the old cheer—

games played by humans and other
beings to remember now against
the hurling, tumbling dreams and
action of the ages;

actors, dancers and sages passing
away in body but leaving spirit
soaring, the steady drum of the awake
seeking truth with proof that cannot
be faked, no matter the tone and
tenor of presidential tweets.

God forgive our missteps, and guide
us onto the straight and narrow path
that defines “respect,” universal codes
sought instead of deified leadership
posts, politicians giving money back,

realizing the community needs workers
not suits, keep dreaming on—this could
be a call to you for more.

But if addicted to the clichés that made
us, the alcohol posing as “drink,” colorless,
flammable and volatile as we slurp the
toxic clink,

studying harder we drink instead of
God and life, water less strife, the
grape juice better than whine, the
ripe tasted better than moldy on the
cursed vine, so we walk away as the
band plays—

Happy New Year!!

A song with cheer, a moment we raise,
the only true melody one of praise,
Higher Powers are at work, supplication
keeping me from lonely worries about
sad mortality, the end in a wink of
this life is not what we think—
the native way to discard the concrete
and the fray,

be calm, take off your shoes and see yourself
a part of the earth we burn too much.

Sink your toes in the sand, eternity
is in oneness with the grains and time,
laugh at our journey ‘round the sun
again, roman calendars marking it
the first step of 365 logged here
and somewhere else…

That place or thing that runs all
things, places markers in energy
for which we strive.

We celebrate another trip around
the sun made, this spaceship earth
calling all to pride, think of it
and others to high levels and never
think yourself apart but instead a
special part.

Eternity is in forgetting the self,
seeing ourselves as one with All.
Be not deceived into isolation’s
worry and regret, go out and
leave a prayer in their place, be
free in your signature, writing your
name in this vast space.

Happy New Year!

Be the smile we occasionally offer
on the whole of time’s face.

New Year’s Poem — 2015/2016

31 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by Bill Watkins in New Year, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Einstein

Poetry Season

It’s January in my mind,
the ball did not drop yet but
it wonders why so many people
claim Rome fell.

We dance by an old calendar
expressing new ways to
celebrate her.

We measure 365 days to perfection,
even the most religious
so scientific when it comes
to birthdays and moving suns.

Or is it the Earth that rotates?

I sometimes forget, standing
still the supposed whirling around
of all matter, going this way
or that—

Depending of course, on where
you are standing upon viewing,
Einstein calling us to keep on
achieving, E=mc2 never a
replacement for Higher Power
and supplicating for better
unknowns…

Switching times, it’s closer
than you think. New Year’s
Eve again, and change leads us
and thoughts forwards and
backwards over what was and might
be—new numbers on our dated
homework or at the bank or DMV.

The ball drops, but not only in
New York. Change follows truth,
and improvement needs you to
admit what is bad, before all becomes
good.

Imagine the rain and what it cleans;
clouds and how they seem.

Without a storm, could we have
the ‘bow and wind-swept blue?

Without the hard, could there be easy?

Without hell, would there be a heaven
at all?

And to those Big Bangers: apply
“yin and yang” to your science and
see that absence of matter needs
matter, and matter absence—there is
always everything, nothing and hopefully
One positive thing driving this
Symphony of stars, whether on a beach
or in the sky.

Ours is not to die, but to contribute
some light, Walt Whitman’s line,

and so with that, what will yours be?

Another drink, a cliché—you listen to
your TV?

School, a job, get drunk enough to
marry, have kids—then realize you
aren’t living your dreams but theirs?

Trust no white coat, and reject
diagnosis as you trudge the hill
leading to real health from its
Primary Provider—Higher Power,
your best “you” firing out like a rising
comet, burning bright before they’ll
say you never died, but supplied…

That need in us to shine.

Then gather us to our people, like
the Jews of old, who left their
lives in others’ hands, departed with
the world spinning as before, better—stronger
and wiser, the ‘bow sweet over
yesterday’s sad rain,

2015 in Roman numerals becoming
2016 once again…

Happy New Year, babies, and may
your daughters and sons carry
this message to the sun:

Thanks. Just “thanks,” as we live
today just begun.

The New Year

29 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by Bill Watkins in Holiday, New Year

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Borges, Joy, Love, Mary Poppins, Mrs. Chick, Peace, Wyatt Earp

happy-year-3848864__480

Every year I used to recollect and
reflect upon the truth and “what it
seems” of all things.

Friends are my teachers, and we take
long walks with journals and push until
the envelope bends to breaking point.

Send it…

Truth’s ironic, the mundane poetic
as we let go of sounds and
“sounds like” in place of pain,
inventing sadness out of rain
much in the way rainbows calm clouds
out of hiding, resulting in misty gold.

Onion rings, things and peace, from
atop South American jungle waterfalls
the truth it rings, and so the balls drop
off of buildings, and we check another Roman
calendar—it makes sense, the suns
and planets doing their thing, ours to record.

Chuckling to connect dots we take
words and take them apart, ones that
never knew they rhymed together chime their
butterfly wing alarms, ride off into the sunset,
lovers at last. We pick up an old book, watch an
old movie, hear an old song and are sure we
must have been married to a different life
before.

Reincarnation’s not for me to expound
as another year goes down, the last of this exploding
in illegal fireworks down the street.

I’ve seen, heard and felt the fragrance
of laughter, the scent of forever in moments
as dead as light in a cave to a submarined
revolutionary thought.

We must come to the surface.

The unity is bound to be what it was always,
descending from a Higher Power. Because we are
so different, the need for one center will drive
the nations forward in prayer as we collect
data, scrape and dust, re-create our day
a smile of hope lighting the way…
the cave opened, the vessel its lighthouse
shining, the connections more and more
evident until…

Until….

Stuck in eternity we cannot improve the
world, Lao Tsu was right, but we’ll try,
and in that says Dickens’ Mrs. Chick we’ve done
enough to be alive.

“Yeah,” says Wyatt Earp, a quick belch
from Mary Poppins call it a burp, a spoonful of
sweet remembering cancels out the quenching
fire of nothing, making it everything.

The same thing. Happy New Year, Borges.

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