POETRY BY JOHN HOLT
- Poet on a Small Island
MAINE ESCAPE
Daughter fidgets.
pushing plate
around the tray.
Mother sits
head in hands
convincing herself
he won't find them.
Safe now!
Maine was
eleven hours
ago.
Six months
planning.
Savings & Loan
-emptied.
Rainy-Day a/c
-cleared.
Tracks covered.
No checks.
No plastic
trail.
Cash transactions.
Mistake?
Cash gets looks -
goes against
the culture.
Doesn't smell
the same
as check or
credit cards.
Rural gas-jockeys
raise eyebrows
at dollar bills.
"Don't git too many
of these lady,
sure y`don`t
hev plastic?"
Daughter tugs
her arm.
Same question
each time:
"Where're we goin` mommy?"
Mom whispers
"Somewhere safe honey"
(please God...somewhere safe
Message From A Stranger
You don`t know me
and you shouldn`t
care what I say.
I am not really
here except in
words across your
screen.
Yet, I recall
my eighteenth year
a time of change
when I rearranged
my life.
Like you, now,
I also enjoyed the day
but underneath
my `jaunty pose`,
deep down,
an embryo fear
cloyed, whittling
away, whittling away.
The Past` dragged
its anchor in
a cozy warming sea,
becalmed I could
have lain forever in
known security.
I took my risks,
maybe they took me
and I set off by chance
weaving across uncertainty
trying to learn steps to a
dance I`d never heard.
Standing on toes
along the route
struggling to be seen
among a herd
of other dancers,
Whizz-Kids, No-Hopers
Posers, Chancers.
Look, I don`t pretend
I can give you any
real advice.
I can only comment
`Old head on young
shoulders` is the
vice you should avoid.
Everything else I say,
from my experience,
might look like cliche
taking the gold
off the birthday
wishes I`m trying
to send.
Ok. make a list;
Keep hope and faith.
Keep humor.
Be shrewd.
Maybe you heard some
rumor that Patience
and Tolerance
are weak things
Untrue.
Keep both of them!
they define you
- throwing them out
will undermine you
as a human being.
Sorry, its all or
nothing on these two
there is no `in between`
Now there are other things I
don`t put on this list.
They`ll attach themselves
creeping under the positive
stuff but what I`m saying
is you got enough of
a start to fight them off,
reduce them to the
size of a flea.
In that way they can`t
do too much damage - see?
One of them`s called
Cynicism.
He could be a shield
against some things
but a TOTAL take over
from this little bug
will freeze your heart
pull the rug of innocence
from under your feet,
snatch the way you feel
and reduce it to `hard fact`.
You`ll be `dead` meat`
if this guy makes you
a major player in his act
You`ll need to control him
use him as your tool
He`s there only because
sometime in your life
someone will try to make
a fool of you. Cynicism
feeds on such experience.
Just be sure you call the
shots when you use him
and then after that
put the sucker right back
into his box - lose him
until its right to bring
him out again -
but only as a counter
to balance some small pain.
Right - this was supposed
to be all about you
and maybe I got carried
away like some latter day saint
(which I assure you I ain`t!)
But if I`ve given you
something to ponder
before you take that
walk out there, yonder,
having fun, then maybe I`ve done
something useful for a change.
Now go for it!
It`s your eighteenth birthday.
Lots of promise ahead of you,
none of it should be missed
- but promise me something?
always carry that list...
(C) John Holt 07-24-98
In Memory Of Frank Sinatra
Tell the birds to stop their chatter
- Stop their music, stop their song
Tell the wind it doesn't matter
- All is silent, Frankie`s gone.
All the days I can remember,
And my parents thought so too,
The Voice was like a burning ember
and the eyes were brightest blue.
Songs for lovers, songs for sadness
Lyrics spun from finest gold
Songs for blues and boozy gladness
Sung for lovers - young and old.
Now, today, there is a silence
And the Singer of the Song
Leaves us with Old Blue Eyes` memories
And our tears - for Frankie`s gone......
© John Holt 15-May-1998
