Category Archives: Prose

Prose created by Frank Brinkman

I walk in the forest

Walk Among

Come walk with me.

I walk in the forest

Of human beings

 

Like you, like me

Our friends, our non-friends.

 

They are many and varied

Sizes and shapes.

 

Short legs, short arms and bodies

In endless combinations

 

Skin in shades and colors of bark

Are many as the grains of sands

 

Pale white or yellow

To dusk and even midnight.

 

From homeless and discarded

To rich and empowered

 

Their beliefs in Gods and spirits

Many heartfelt, others heartless.

 

From agnostic to zealot

Evoking love and others hate

 

To walk in this forest

One must be alert and vigilant.

 

 

 

I walk in the forest

Of human beings

 

I have walked amongst humans

For three score and a half more.

 

I became a connoisseur of watching

Sitting unnoticed, but noticing.

 

I found when I scratched someone

They bled like me regardless of skin color

 

The pain and anguish they felt

Was similar to mine.

 

No shape or size

Made any difference.

 

I find the differences

Are to be cherished.

 

I read and viewed media

About senseless aggression

 

Famine, natural disasters

Earthquake, or disease epidemic

 

I have witnessed displacement

A human column of immeasurable grief

 

Suffering starvation

And deprivations

 

Also domestic violence

To terrorism in schools,

 

Revenge or an action

To get attention to a cause.

 

Or war in far-flung nations

Inflicting harm and death.

 

Our little blue marble is cluttered

With collateral damage.

 

Even soldiers afflicted

By PTSD created by chaos of war.

 

Or by the violence in

our neighborhood or home.

 

I physically hurt

When I come into contact

 

In person or via media

I shudder trying to comprehend

 

Both the victims

And perpetrators.

 

I am at a loss

And feel sad and helpless

 

My heart has been

Broken and beaten.

 

 

 

I walk in the forest

Of human beings

 

Yet, I have hope

Even in the darkest moments

 

I wonder where

This optimism comes from

 

 

Created September 15, 2017

 

 

 

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What did you say?

Here I stand
On a pillowy white cloud.

There is this guy
With a beard standing here

Looking down into
A big red leather bound book.

He is taking a long time
Turning page after page.

I am hearing
A grunt or two,

But not a word from his lips,
Not a welcome.

I shift from
One foot to the other.

What am I
Doing here?

My last memory
Was slipping and falling.

I begin to worry.
I have so much to do.

If he is not finding
What he is looking for

How will his search
Affect me and my future?

Oh, he signals me
Come closer, step over here.

There is no hint
Of a smile or indication

What the book
Has revealed to him?

With a concerned look
And a shrug of his shoulders

He quietly whispers
So only I could hear.

“I am sorry
I do not have your reservation.

I am sad  to say
You must go…..”

Where did he say
I had to go?

I am definitely going
To get new hearing aids!

Sir, where did you
Say I should go?

Again a little louder he said
“You must go back!”

The cloud turned
A little darker and softer.

I am falling down again
Ouch! Ohhh I hurt all over.

 

Created: September 11, 2017

Attitude of Simple Humbleness

Inspire humble thoughts and majestic images.

Inspire humble thoughts and majestic images.

Thank you Ageless One.
My wrinkles, scars, and bruises,
They demonstrate your generosity,
Your gift of longevity.

Thank you Rising Son.
Not as a complaint, but a deep sigh
For the aches and pains of old muscles and bones
They are a gift of a new day.

Thank you Heavenly Father
Each wheezing breath is a prayer
For clarity of mind and heart.
They bow in reverence.

Thank you Gentle Loving Spirit
So many faults and weaknesses,
And so I feel slovenly unworthy,
But still you pour out your bountiful graces.

Within your embrace I face the daily toils,
Overcoming the challenges of bigotry
Sharing the smiles and cheerfulness
With an attitude of simple humbleness.

Originally written: July 7, 2014

I have just finished reading Ann Voskamps’s
book titled: “one thousand gifts, A Dare to
LIVE FULLY right where you are.” I was unable
to read more than page or two at a time. Her
words provoked thoughts and meditation thereby
limiting the number of pages I could read in
one sitting. The above poem is a result of
the reading.

https://www.facebook.com/AnnVoskamp

I Am Going Home

A New Beginning!

A New Beginning!

I Am Going Home
Oh Heavenly Father,
Come for me today.
To be home for Christmas.

The earthly toils and tribulations
Have worn my body and spirit down
Come Holy Spirit.

Our long, long suffering is
Torturing the innocents
Surrounding and supporting us.

My body and mind
Yearn for the loving
And peaceful joy
Of being in your presence.

This is the season of Advent
A time of expecting
A time of preparing.

I am prepared.
We are prepared,
Now is my Advent season

I await the miracle
Of my new birth
My new beginning

Free of suffering
Singing with your angels
The glorious songs of old.

Announcing the arrival
Of The Child
And of the new arrivals.

Come Holy Spirit
I await your pleasure
Impatiently, I await

Come Holy Spirit.
Take me home.

Originally written: December 18, 2012

This was written for my cousin, Bill Mehringer, at the request
of his wife Deb. Bill is in hospice as this poem was written.
We love and support Bill and Deb in this long struggle. Bill
got his miracle just a couple hours after Deb read this poem
to him. Bill’s wait is over and he has his beautiful wings.

A Passion for Living

A rose the symbol of love and passion

A rose the symbol of love and passion

To live is to love.
Ah, the passion of living.
Each moment precious.
Each day and year collecting

The good, the bad and
Even the ugly part of life.
Each experience precious
Even priceless.

My collection growing
As my hair is greying.
My appreciation of life’s variety
Expands until it Is boundless.

Originally written: January 11, 2004

I sat across from a friend and listened to the stories he was telling about his life. The stories reflected growing up in an envronment of anger and hate. Later, I was reminiscing on the conversation and how different my life was. I grew up in a poor family wearing hand-me-downs and shoes purchased from Goodwill stores. I admit there were days we hated our unreasonable father.

My sister was the only sibling that remained home to finish high school. All four boys got their high school diplomas later and several went on to college. I came the closest to staying at home until I finished high school. I left two weeks before graduation and went into the military receiving my diploma in the mail. As we grew into teenagers each of us began to have
an increasing number of conflicts with our father.

Yet, I must say we were privileged to grow up in that environment. We can face any challenge and know how to survive even thrive. Each experience we have had whether it was good, bad, or ugly enriched us. As I have grown in age, wisdom has provided a view of past happenings that has morphed from distaste to appreciation. In discussions with my brothers we discovered each of us has confidence in our abilities instilled by having been through difficult times.

I would even go so far as say each brother has a passion for living.

Caught in the Act

To observe the instant a child learns is a miracle.


I am amazed,
And in awe.

To see a baby,
Or a young child

Caught in the act,
Of seeing something for the first time.

The arms, legs
of constant motion stops.

The eyes open wide
Seem to be absorbing.

It is as if I can see
The child’s mind learning.

It is a wondrous sight,
A treasured moment.

Originally written: January 11, 2004

I saw a baby in a stroller see a robin sitting on a branch for the first time. I was totally captivated by the baby staring at the bird. For it’s part the robin chirped and chirped calling for a mate. The child stopped all motion and just looked at the bird. I could see her eyes widen and focus on the bird. It was absorbing and the thought came to mind was the baby was learning. I was elated to have watched the child see the robin red breast for the first time.

Happy Birthday – Again

Bison herd Tetons National Park April 2008

We are watching you.

A singular anniversary
of a love shared.

Shared between two
Lovers urgent desires.

An anniversary enjoyed
Anticipated and Experienced

Contemplated now
And again and again.

With joy and surprise,
Each a heart warming day.

Through adolescence
To giddy teenage years.

First love deeply felt
Lost in the nights of fire

Love refound amongst the ashes
Kindled in friendship and desire.

A family reformed
Hers and mine made six..

Love found and lived
Each day among the drama

Internalizing lessons learned
Changing self to help one or all.

One step, two, taken
Make a difference

Grow in breadth and width
Sharing and relieving trauma

Satisfaction and resolution gains,
Professionally and personally.

Anniversaries pile up
One upon another and another,

Physical ailments accumulating
Gathering strength and debilitation.

A life now constrained
Pain unrelieved lived

A new life chosen
Slower and without anxiety.

New choices to be made
Creating differently

Using life and experience
Poems and treasures.

Anniversaries mounding up
Heaping pounds and greyness

A body shows the wear
To the wearer of the body.

Slowing life, rushing forward
To another anniversary.

Gathering years of mountains of joys
And ant hills of sorrow.

Happy Birthday brings all together
All happenings and experiences

Even of the two lovers
So long long ago.

Alive for the moment
Of remembrances of remembrances.

Until the next turn of the clock.
Tick Tock, tick tock.

Originally written: January 25, 2012