The Long Goodbye

Posted on May 18, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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Saying goodbye is not easy to do, especially when you’ve had a deep emotional connection to someone. But all things must pass, and waiting for no man is…

 

Time and Tide

To cry myself to sleep again last night

Hurt more than you could ever know inside.

Events have fought against our getting right

Love’s double-sided triangular tide,

Only to find, deep in the undertow,

New pains to pull us into more despair.

God gave us minds to work out what we know:

God gave us hearts to show us that we care…

Only, it seems that we must throw away

Our one good chance to put our lives in tune:

Does this mean that there’ll never come a day

Before time’s end to join the Sun and Moon?

You will always be special to my soul,

Even when all’s a swallowed-up Black Hole.

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Rustic Reminder

Posted on May 18, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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In the late 80’s I lived in Ascot, UK, very close to the racecourse. One evening, I went for a walk as the sun was setting. It didn’t take long for the road to become dark since there were no streetlights where I was walking. I continued on my walk, but found that I was recalling my teenage years in rural Central Ontario, Canada. What an effect! Afterward, I wrote this poem.

Until Last Night

You can’t imagine how the memory

Of summers long ago affects my mood,

Until last night: I forgot the glory

That fields of grass give me; an interlude

Has passed between my teenage years and now;

Forgetting basic joys of Nature’s way,

Until last night, I thought of horse and cow

Left in the pasture with the wheat and hay.

So full, my mind bursts forth to light the road,

Until it re-illuminates my path;

My knowledge of the past, key to the code

Memory locked away, is peace, not wrath.

Emergent from forgotten fight or flight,

Remiss was I to life, until last night.

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Smile

Posted on May 16, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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Smile

A picture is not worth a thousand pounds

Because a price cannot be put on thoughts:

Lost souls we are, compared to happy sounds

Abounding in the past. (If we drew lots

So that the one who holds the shortest straw

Takes all the pain away from all the rest,

Forgiveness could be shared to soothe the raw

Romantic memories.) They seem the best,

On all levels, those photos of your smile,

Making my heart sigh – my tears tumble down.

Perhaps they’re not just missing by a mile,

And who can tell when they will clear my frown.

So smile again for me and light my life,

That love and joy may stop the cutting knife.

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My Wife

Posted on May 16, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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In May 2010, Susan and I married. As we’d both been through marriages and other relationships before, most people would say that this act was one of ‘hope overcoming experience’. That would be true if we’d met in our later years, as it would seem. However, the truth was we first met in 1966, and hit it off right from the start.

But life sometimes gets in the way, whether it is fulfilling other obligations or because one has misread the signs: to make a long story short, we remained friends for more than 40 years (the last 20 of them while not being in touch), finally catching up with each other in 2007 via a classmates website.

My plan had been to move back to Canada from England in that year, so I set in motion the wherewithal to do that. Within a month of starting the process, Susan found my profile on the North Collegiate web page and sent me a message. To say I was knocked out by the ‘coincidence’ would be an understatement. We started emailing regularly from then on for the next few months.

In August of 2007, I came to Canada for the first Miller family reunion. Susan accompanied me. It was such a success, I knew we were meant to be together. So, when I finally returned to Canada in October of that year, we moved in together. The rest is history.

This coming week, Susan will be reaching a significant milestone, so I’m writing this blog to honour her. I couldn’t have asked for a more special person in my life to be my friend, my lover and my wife.  Happy birthday, Susan. 143 xo

(The cartoon version of our wedding picture was produced by my daughter, Rosanna’s husband, Ross.)

Susan & Chris

August 2007

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Sisters

Posted on May 15, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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When children grow up together, there’s a constant battle going on for attention, supremacy, and individuality. It was the same in the Miller household when our girls were young. However, I had hoped that when they grew up this would end: it didn’t.

 

Disappointment

Sometimes one’s life reveals a bitter truth:

In fact, when one is young it’s even worse,

Because the one who fights you, nail and tooth,

Like it or not, seems like a blesséd curse.

Insightful though you think that you may be,

No good can come from fighting with a friend:

Great friends accept idiosyncrasy,

Remaining by your side, world without end.

I speak from vast experience, my child,

Verified by those who’ve gone before us:

A sister is the best friend you’ll have known.

Let go of struggling, whether fierce or mild;

Remember, ev’ry time you make a fuss,

You disappoint me with each tantrum thrown.

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My Hairdresser

Posted on May 14, 2014 by cdsmiller17

In England, I went to the same hairdresser for almost the whole time I lived there. Some days she would do the small talk routine, most days she wouldn’t. It seemed to me that the lack of discussion meant that she was concentrating on the other people in the workplace. However, it was very uncomfortable at times.

 

Incisive Silence

Kaput! The day had gone from bad to worse;

An instant later it was lost for good –

Bad timing steals one’s hour, like Robin Hood

Oblivious, regardless of one’s purse.

OK, OK, so this is lousy verse –

Do you think thoughts are truly understood?

Like keeping resolutions if you could,

Each mental image comes to then disperse.

So what have all these words to do with you?

Jew’ls, hung suspended from a golden chain,

Use little thought to comprehend their life:

Like you, they do the task they’re set to do,

Inflicting not one sound; they don’t complain –

Except your scissors cut air like a knife.

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Winkin’, Blinkin’ and Nod

Posted on May 14, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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In the history of mankind, there is only one thing that is the same for everyone: the need to sleep. When we were young, our mothers sang us lullabies to help us get there. Here’s a poem I wrote for my daughters, but when they were young they would not have understood the allusions. Will they today?

 

Ninth Lullaby

 

Now is the time for ev’ryone to sleep:

Orion’s stopped his hunting for the night;

Nowhere is waiting in the pale Moon’s light;

And slumber overtakes the Shepherd’s sheep.

Night, sweet dreams, my child, may your rest be deep:

In a few short moments you’ll be out of sight;

Nostalgia will slip down from left to right;

No longer will you care what the day can keep.

Away you’ll sail into the world of dreams:

Neptune’s domain, the mirrored inner side;

As soon as you’ve arrived you’ll be aware,

Not of usual scenes, but of all your schemes,

Negotiated at birth, to be tried

Amongst the living, if you really dare.

 

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Samaritans

Posted on May 13, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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For almost two years, I volunteered as a Samaritan. http://www.samaritans.org/ The one thing I noticed was that most volunteers became two-faced after being exposed to the types of people who called to add a little excitement in their lives. The game was ‘bait the Samaritan’ and see if they’d bite.

I wrote this poem, splitting it into two parts: the Samaritan face; and the personal face.

 

The Samaritan Complex

 

No one to turn to? Nobody listens?

Either they hate you or don’t understand:

Even a criminal can take the stand;

Don’t they know that you’re like gold that glistens?

Tell me your troubles, lay them to one side:

Only a sensitive’s enough for you;

Because I can see from your point of view,

Each moment I help you increases my pride…

         Not him again! Why is he feeling sad?

         Even if he’s suicidal, no way!

         Ev’rytime he calls, I start my shaking.

         Doesn’t he know he’s despicably bad?

         Either he stops or I’m going to say,

         Don’t ring me again; I’ve stopped my faking…

 

 

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The Great Debate

Posted on May 12, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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I’m always surprised when someone takes me to task for something I’ve said, or something I’ve written. To express an opinion is just that: an opinion. I am not attempting to make anyone else accept what I think as the only way. It is just one way to think among seven billion ways. In High School, I hung around with the ‘smart’ crowd. However, their main entertainment was knocking down others’ opinions, and many was the time that I would find myself on the receiving end of some very barbed witticism.

In response, I wrote the following poem, facetiously postulating some outrageous ideas:

Once Around

It seems that circles sometimes frighten me:

I guess because I think that they’re too square;

I like the things that aren’t as they should be,

And that is why I do not cut: I tear.

A jagged rock is not so very round,

And yet it’s still extremely firm and strong;

It feels like many disagree, I’ve found,

But have they the right to say that I’m wrong

To think this way? For this is how I feel;

And just because they seem to fathom more

About the less important things of life,

They have no right to say my three’s are four,

Because my thoughts belong to me alone

And aren’t to be involved in any war.

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Yesterday’s News

Posted on May 11, 2014 by cdsmiller17

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In relationships, there is nothing more demoralizing that being tossed aside for someone new. You feel like yesterday’s news. It happened to me while I was living in England, and my immediate response was to write the following poem.

 

An Old Newspaper

 

You will understand (won’t you?) if I say:

E‘en though you’ve shown me love and affection,

Something still causes discomfort today;

That something makes me pause in reflection,

Even though I’m looking forward to the

Revised version of this Evening‘s News,

Deep down inside that feeling Mirrors me…

An old newspaper for the puppy’s use!

Yesterday’s news is tossed out with the trash,

Soaked up by damp spots, caught by falling drips,

Never dried out by the Sun, burned to ash,

Eboned with polish, or cut by scrapbook snips.

Whether or not it’s in the Daily Mail,

Save this old paper from the garbage pail.

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