Birth-Day Wishes – Frank Gutsche

Windy beach, summer jests, 

little girl dipping her toes in cold sand, 

in shivered moments of water she froze.

Apple trees, bright leafy days, 

gentle breeze, cat chased bird, 

magic backyard witches’ shed, 

mother’s angry words.
Ancient pirate’s treasure, 

locked coins in a crumbling chest.

A little girl’s Barbie doll’s hair cut, 

she severed its blonde-maned crest.
Birth-day: 

the wheel of life spins, 

Mother’s lullabies, 

the sound of cherished comfort yearns, 

years carve their spirals. 
I wish you happiness, 

and its endless returns 

Poem – Memory 

Late, late last night, when the whole world slept,
Along to the garden of dreams I crept.

And I pulled the bell of an old, old house

Where the moon dipped down like a little white mouse.

I tapped the door and I tossed my head:

“Are you in, little girl? Are you in?” I said.

And while I waited and shook with cold

Through the door tripped me—just eight years old.

I looked so sweet with my pigtails down,

Tied up with a ribbon of dusky brown,

With a dimpled chin full of childish charme,

And my old black dolly asleep in my arms.

I sat me down when I saw myself,

And I told little tales of a moonland elf.

I laughed and sang as I used to do

When the world was ruled by Little Boy Blue.

Then I danced with a toss and a twirl

And said: “Now have you been a good, good girl?

Have you had much spanking since you were Me?

And does it feel fine to be twenty-three?”

I kissed me then, and I said farewell,

For I’ve earned more spanks than I dared to tell,

And Eight must never see Twenty-three

As she peeps through the door of Memory. 

Poem – De Ja Vu 

Have you ever thought that before, 

I have been to this place, 

Or I really know your face.
Somebody has already told me that, 

Or you say I already know, 

But nobody has told you so.
A friend of a friend you see, 

For the first time but yet, 

You think you have already met.
What about I must give them, 

A call find how she’s doing, 

Caller display and she is ringing.
To driving somewhere you have, 

Never been before in your car, 

Yet you know where you are.
Talking to someone and they finish, 

Your sentence or you both say, 

Together the very same word, 

Which just seems so absurd.
A cycle of coincidences so, 

Random and out of the blue, 

A sixth sense or deja vu.
Wouldn’t it be lovely as I, 

Thought of you and you thought, 

Of me what a wonderful, 

Coincidence that would be…. 

Poem – Memory 

O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,

Still importunate and vain,

To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain:
Thou, like the world, th’ oppress’d oppressing,

Thy smiles increase the wretch’s woe:

And he who wants each other blessing

In thee must ever find a foe. 

Memory – Abraham Lincoln

MY childhood’s home I see again, 

And sadden with the view; 

And still, as memory crowds my brain, 

There’s pleasure in it, too. 
O memory! thou midway world 

‘Twixt earth and paradise, 

Where things decayed and loved ones lost 

In dreamy shadows rise, 
And, freed from all that’s earthly, vile, 

Seem hallowed, pure and bright, 

Like scenes in some enchanted isle 

All bathed in liquid light. 
As dusky mountains please the eye 

When twilight chases day; 

As bugle notes that, passing by, 

In distance die away; 
As, leaving some grand waterfall, 

We, lingering, list its roar- 

So memory will hallow all 

We’ve known but know no more. 
Near twenty years have passed away 

Since here I bid farewll 

To woods and fields, and scenes of play, 

And playmates loved so well. 
Where many were, but few remain 

Of old familiar things, 

But seeing them to mind again 

The lost and absent brings. 
The friends I left that parting day, 

How changed, as time has sped! 

Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray; 

And half of all are dead. 
I hear the loved survivors tell 

How nought from death could save, 

Till every sound appear a knell 

And every spot a grave. 
I range the fields with pensive tread, 

And pace the hollow rooms, 

And feel (companion of the dead) 

I’m living in the tombs.