Flight to Peace & Goodness

Dagon: First View of the Castle

Escape Escape

 

The boy with cat & duck

trying to escape the anguish

violent men lusting with senseless terror

burned his village flat, with fire, guns

In a rage of snarling heat

Family and friends dead or fled

bombs ate the whole of life

 

Rains had come

 tears of the missing god

Boy headed up unsurfaced roads

To hide among the hills

Up roads of mud sucking his boots

In and out, heavy with noises jolly and frightful

his feet a voice kissing and spitting

fighting to survive calling yes calling

a missing earth god for help

 

he could hardly pull his wagon

which held the cat, few clothes

something like food, a book or to

so red, so red, wheels sliding not turning

droning a chorus with his feet

Cat nobly sits, commanding the scene

arrogant with doubt and faith

 

Boy stopped, breathing deep

Entering the hamlet, barely a town at all

surrounding suddenly by monkey boys

pelting laughter like stones into his mind

the duck honked bravely

as if sticking out his tongue

mocking the taunts and insult

with his own arrogant veneer

his beak and flapping wings

kept the boys at bay

 

A dragon comes over the hill

the mud dries beneath his feet

his long neck swings like a rope

as he observes the scene

nodding to the boy

as if he were king

with silent flaming eyes

he glares at the monkey boys

lighting theirs with fear

they bow with absolute quiet

swallowing their breath

frozen statues in terror

 

Dragon walks to boy and nods toward his back

“I am called Dagon, the owner of these hills

I shall be your friend, for kindness

Holds the color of your eyes

And the steadfast faith abides

Do ride up my back, you and your good friends”

He nods towards cat and duck

lifting up the wagon,

cat bows with humble grace

lowered upon the great wide back

duck flies up, extending wing

as if to shake a hand

bowing too with thanks upon his breath

 

A hand to help the  boy astride

they start the peaceful ride

across the high terrain

the bleak road appeared to change

into satin, silk and stone

with comforting green moss

waving ferns and trillium in red and white

with views into the peaceful valley

and then saw far up ahead

a castle strong and mighty

white and blue  with gold gleaming

bathed in a ray of sunlight

 

the dream had come to reality

dragon conquered the little knight

with the beauty of the world

and magic of pure life

 

 

picking up from a notes found in a notebook from several years ago

©jamesm.frase-white  6/20/2022     

Published on my Blog w/love for my Greatgrandson 

Lucas on his 4th Birthday 
who got his own version of this story 

on His Mom, Sierra's Birthday just a little bit ago 

Found Today, a fertile song of memory

A Birthday Tree for Jessica, 2021, Papercut/watercolor

 

Museum Road Memories

Boston Back Bay (1976-78)

 

The park where I was mugged

how many times?

attacked physically,

and by gun(s), by knife,

 the shock, the aftershock

a metallic  taste of fear

 

Assaulted also by dazzle

the Caribbean carnival

with rides whirling, merry-go-rounding

centrifugal force causing laughter,

astonished fear

acrobatic humor, twirling bodies round and round

music bouncing, dancing

exotic fragrant food odors

 

Seduced by the sweet flowers

in the summer victory gardens

where i found my first Boston lover

intoxicated by my walk, my humor

later, worshipped in an exotic apartment bed

overlooking the sterile holiness of

Mary Baker Eddy’s home church dome

 

I recall each incident with such clarity

The rush of fear, the color of an iris,

the path of the duck

ripples of the muskrat paddling across the rivulet

the walk to Isabella’s mansion, the MFA

And that beautiful early, early summer morning

the city quiet, asleep, in dreams

the bird singing by the green river

in the shadowing glow of dawn

walking from my apartment

down the macadam to the Fens

past the Museum School

crossing to the dawning  greenbelt

to hear the voice of astonishing beauty

cancelling all violence, fear, loathing

into the beauty of survival

of life eternal, within me and with out

on the muddy riverbank of eternity . . .                                                                                                                                                    6/30/2021 

©J. M. Frase-White 8/23/22

Baltimore, the Bear

 

Blue Bear Poem

 1.

Come and see my silly bear

O where o where is that silly bear?

He sits, he sits so dotty & blue.

Wearing a bowtie of red, it’s true

Eyes so bright aglow with light

They seem to question day and night

Baltimore, Baltimore that is his name

He flew here in a Friendship plane

He dreams upon the painted pond chair

In his lap sits his own Spike bear

 

2

The cuddly wuddly fuddly bear

Once Sat upon a tiger-striped chair

His ears were red,

 his nose bright blue

We wore no clothes

His fur a light blue blue hue

A startled look from button eyes

Dream on, dream on, of endless skies

With thought of honey and berries blue

As, so I hear, most bears do

 

3

Bears, Bears, Bears

In chairs, in chairs

Keep us happy with your charm

the eternal child do not harm

we believed that life was good

let us all live in that neighborhood

For my sister Judith, who brought me the Baltimore from way downhome, For Dorian who loves bears keeping a zoo form with a watchful feline eye or two, for Jessica whose parents had Growler and Squeaky, her family, my Grands, great grands, and family all around the world who know that teddy is always hugging you too.

And oh, yes, the chair is guarded by Muddy, who was found in a puddle many many moons ago outside Fowles Restaurant as we entered on bleak rainy morning . . . and came home to live with us, still keeping us safe after decades, in each doghouse we've lived in since then . . .

 ©j.m.frase-white 2022

Change=Rearrange

Purposeful Redecoration 

It needs a new home

the decor family needs to

accommodate, adjust

Move this, then that, then this

And yes, that looks better beneath/above

 that painting, that chest, that desk

The dance begins

Waltzing with belongings

Then, Suddenly

It looks, well, just right

the function of living can resume

the cup full of meaningful objects brimming

papers, books, laid out, to read, to paint upon

mementos in boxes, cups of brushes, pencils

beautiful as vases of fresh flowers

perfect for the beauty of utility

of the moment

of the future

here and now

the fledgling creates a new feather

to fly afresh on the wings of life

©j.m.frase-white upon redecorating the studio/bedroom/study

The Study/Writing Room (where I sit right now composing this blog)

7/26-29/2022

Farmer of the Flock

 

The Farmer of the Soul

 

Miss Mary, Maiden Mary,

To the fields you went to sow

basket full of seeds to plant

your budding faith all aglow

 

That waking morning you heard

His voice sweetly call your name

Wrapped in glowing sunshine

You would never be the same

 

“Mary, Mary, my sweet young lamb

Will you be a shepherd of the sheep

 Go feed my Flock, dear Mary

In my heart you I shall keep

 

In my book are the answers

To heal the sinner’s pain

 Far away from burning death

The Holy land they will gain”

 

Here she wed her bridegroom

The farm now holy land

Off she went to seminary

Holy Bible in her hand

 

 Reverend Mary, Miss Mary

Mama’s Church was your start

Impassioned lady preacher

You touched her childlike heart

 

In a fragile holy chapel

Surrounded by their farms

She took Farmers out of Satan’s grasp

into their Savior’s holy arms

 

She had daddy paint her car

He chose Battleship Grey

When sinners saw it coming

They knew it was time to pray

 

Pilgrim Holiness Church

Gave Reverend Mary her home        

The Lord called her once again

Heavenly fields to happily roam

Based on the story she told
Of a morning that changed her life

(Her call came in the 1920's)

Written especially for my niece Dana
On her birthday July 8, 2022
 
Dedicated to the memory of
The Reverend Mary Garrett
To all who loved and cherished
The one and only Miss Mary

 In loving memory of my Mother
Maud Lorraine Gottwalls Frase White

Tonto Writes Again

Tonto Writes Again!
 
Last night I had a funny dream
I lived upon this very land
Before that there Amerigo
& Columbus named us all
(Aryan/Indian in this new round earth)
Adventurous Italians sailing
from lands of godly Kings and Queens
 
Some puzzlements of this reverie
swam into my brain
wrapped in deerskin robe
my skin was still the color
of the sand upon the shore
my hair a brown & yellow
like leaves turned to in Fall
eyes the color of the sky
my home was still a wigwam
but as I began to speak
the language of mad King George
slipped out from my pink lips
 
A chuckle woke me 
I hugged my teddy bear
in my snug warm bed
with lusty minutes of pure laughter
the dream came rolling back
in our mind live others
who hold our spirits too
    on these sweet nights   

                        

maybe

we can with them commune

©j.m.frase-white the morning of June 22, 2022
 

MaryLiz Riddle sends me a Tale from Beyond

 

A Jumble of Threes

 

A Land Far Away, which is often to blame

Three sisters (two step) of some renowned fame

(Step-sisters still bitter ‘bout shoes, princes and mouses)

Come upon three little pigs, building houses

. 

“Nice sticks,” said the first, with a roll of her eye,

“I’m sure that’ll save you from a big bad wolf’s sight!”

 

“Was straw,” sneered the second, “the first thing you found?

What makes you think that is structurally sound?”

 

“This one’s sarcastic.”  said a voice from behind.

“This one’s too critical, too acidic, not kind.”

 

“But this one,” said a little bear, “I think is just right!”

And ate the third sister, right there in plain sight.

 

Mister & Missus Ziegler

 

 Today I had the wonderful receipt of a legacy from the marvelous poet/book maker, MaryLiz Riddle who left this earth little over a year ago. Her Daughter and Son gave me "1000 Pounds of Fine Paper". Mixed in the handmade and fine papers I found this delightful poem, written in a variety of fonts but somewhat obscured by images, of the sisters, pigs & bears, all hidden behind a wall of circular chubby faces. This illustration was at the bottom of the work. A delightful poem by the mysterious Mister and Missus Ziegler, filled with warmth and humor that was very much like the delights of knowing MaryLiz, witty, acerbic and generous of spirit!