My Boss, The President at the Boat Yard

               My Boss, the President at the Boat Yard

I am all that I seem

On a power trip,

I’ve created this scene,

And I captain my ship!

 

I balance my caring

With what needs to be done,

For I am deeply aware

Of my place in the sun.

 

We offer the best to all of our clients.

You have a suggestion?  Show me the science;

That it’s worth it to change a rule!

I still remain the company owner,

All my life, I’ve been playing the loner,

And I won’t be anyone’s fool!

 

I know sometimes, I may seem remote,

But it takes some detachment to choose.

I’ve got to keep this ship afloat

Or everyone stands to lose.

 

The sailors all have something to say,

But I’ve got to steer the course.

I’ll hear their ideas, but I’ll do it my way

If I have to do it by force.

 

We offer the best to all of our clients.

You have a suggestion?  Show me the science;

That it’s worth it to change a rule!

I still remain the company owner,

All my life, I’ve been playing the loner,

And I won’t be anyone’s fool!

 

Sometimes I wish we could all get together,

And pool our thoughts about how to do better,

And address our divergent needs.

I do my best to understand.

If I feel I am able, I do lend a hand,

But the company’s got to succeed!

 

You see -- my whole life is invested.

I can’t afford to take it slow.

I can be autocratic, just the way you’ve protested,

But you can pack up and go!

 

I’ve always had an open door,

But don’t tell me what to do.

I’m not afraid, though I’m waging war!

Show me you’re with me, and I’ll be with you.

April 29, 2021: Sea Fever by John Masefield, in "Treasury of Great Poems (Untermeyer)", page 1100.

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. 

April 28, 2021: Blessed the Soul

Blessed the Soul

Blessed the soul who understands that he works for more than his pay.
Blessed the soul whose awareness expands absolute when she chooses to pray.
Blessed the soul with an open heart to the loving of every day.
Blessed the soul with an open mind, yet who follows along his way.
Blessed the soul who knows it’s vain to expect good fortune to stay.
Blessed the soul with an exquisite pain, yet who does not yield to dismay.
Blessed the soul who knows the conventions and chooses her own role to play.
Blessed the soul with control on attention, whose doing conforms to his say.

April 28, 2021: Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, #66, Gia-Gu Feng and Jane English Version

Sixty-Six

Why is the sea king of a hundred streams?
Because it lies below them.
Therefore it is the king of a hundred streams.

If the sage would guide the people, he must serve with humility.
If he would lead them, he must follow behind.
In this way when the sage rules, the people will not feel oppressed;
When he stands before them, they will not be harmed.
The whole world will support him and will not tire of him.

Because he does not compete,
He does not meet with competition.

April 27, 2021: Holding Hands

                Holding Hands

 

Your hand –

Only a hand

Until you touch

Me.

 

If it were only your hand

  It would only be a hand –

If it were only your body,

  It would only be a thing.

 

If it were not intentional,

But also unintentional,

It would not be from the heart.

You touched my love.

Joints, muscles

My fragile love –

Bone, skin

With your hands

Connecting tissue

Your fragile hands

Nerves

Which are precious to me

Blood vessels

Because they are fragile

Hair follicles

And yours.

 

Your hands could never be

More precious

For the rings and bracelets of a queen,

And a statue of precious stones

A thousand years old

Could never be

More valuable to me.

 

Your hands,

Only hands,

Until you held me

 

In your gentle hands.

April 27, 2021: Valediction, Forbidding Mourning by John Donne, In Harvard Classics, vol. 41, page 304

Valediction, Forbidding Mourning

As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go;
While some of their sad friends do say,
Now his breath goes, and some say, No;

So let us melt, and make no noise,
no tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears
Men reckon what it did and meant'
But trepidations of the spheres,
Though greater far, are innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
whose soul is sense, cannot admit
Absence; for that it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.

But we, by a love so far refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Careless, eyes, lips and hands to miss,

-- Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixt foot, makes no show
To move, but doth if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
like th' other foot obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circles just,
And makes me end where I begun.

 

April 26, 2021: American Hope

                  American Hope

Hour to hour;

        Day to day;

            Month to month at most.

Empty of history,

        No great mystery,

            Just make enough money to coast.

Numb the pain

           That could drive you insane;

                What’s to gain if this sad old world should explode,

    Or erode,

    Or melt,

    Or be frozen by hearts made of stone.

It’s become too easy for the mind to gloss

    Over those who are dying on poverty’s cross,

        And Ignore the mounting ecological cost,

And leave the answers to those who lead,

    Seeking our solace in corporate greed,

           In need of conviction, we don’t care how you plead;

As you put our money in national banks,

    Which invest, in turn, in missiles and tanks.

        (Don’t read the contract, just fill in the blanks),

And to save our elections,

    And religious affections,

        And consumer values we hold so dear,

And to maintain the compliance

    Of our friends in alliance,

        And destroy all defiance where it should appear,

We break our own laws,

    Attack without cause:

        In the eagle’s sharp claws are the shreds of our fear.

We are numbed in frivolity

    In this brainwashed society

        Without sense or sobriety, split into pieces

Of great isolation;

    Too much imitation

            To find consolation in a statue of Jesus.

    Do you know what I mean?

    Have you seen what I’ve seen?

    Have you had the same dream

Of friendship between us?