"Eyes of a Painter"

Gray-haired and flint-eyed

His sunburned Face lined 

Grandpa was a man of few words

He had a way of not wanting to say

Any more than he thought could be heard.

The long Years of Living 

And day-to-day Giving

Had carved a Map on his Face

With Little to Lose, he'd learned how to Choose

And his Choices were easy to Trace.

He had the Eyes of a Painter

The Heart of a Maker of Songs

And his Words fell Like Rain

On the Dry desert Plain

Precious and so Quickly Gone.

From a long line of Teachers

And white Baptist Preachers

He was Born with an Indian Will

His Quiet dark Eyes, Reading the Light 

As he rode in the low Osage Hills.

His School was the Prairie, the Sage, the Wild Berry

The Quail, the wide Open Sky

The Cottonwood thicket, by the Slow Rolling River

The Redbud and the hot Cattle Drive.

There were Days filled with Thinking

Nights with the drinking
For a Lost Love that Raged like a Storm

But how his Eyes Smiled, when he'd talk to a Child

His rough Hands so Gentle and Warm.

His strong Arms were brown 

Where the long sleeves rolled down

On his Faded blue cotton Shirt

When Times got hard, he went out in the yard

And cuss away some of the Hurt.

Now the Garden's grown dusty

The hand Axe lies Rusty

The door's banging hard in the Wind

Grandpa's Store is Closed down

Like most of the Town

And  it Won't be Open again.

His big white car sits out in the Yard

Of  the House he Built Solid  and True

But I see his Eyes, Burning tonight

Like the Stars in the Sky he once Knew.

He had the Eyes of a Painter...
And the Heart of a Maker of Songs
~And his Words  Fell like Rain...
On the Dry desert Plain
Precious and so  Quickly Gone.
 
 

~Kate Wolf

  U.S.A.

~Beannaichte'

 22 June, 2016

beannaichte@twitter.com 

"Restless Farewell"

Oh, all the money in my whole life I did spend

Be it mine right or wrongfully

I let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends

To tie up the time most forcefully

But the bottles are done 

We've killed each one

And the table is full and overflowed

And the corner sign

Says it's closing time

So I'll bid farewell and be down the road.

Oh, every man that ever I've touched

I did not do it harmfully

And every man that ever I've hurt

I did not do it knowingly

But to remain as friends

You need the time
To make amends and stay behind

And since my feet are now fast

And point away from the past

I'll bid farewell and be down the line.

Oh, every foe that ever I faced

The cause was there before we came

And every cause that ever I fought

I fought it full without regret or shame

But the dark does die
As the shade is drawn and somebody's eyes
Must meet the dawn

And  if  I see the day

I'd only have to stay

So I'd bid farewell in the night and be gone.

Oh, every thought that has strung a knot in my mind

I might go insane if it couldn't be sprung

But it's not to stand naked under unknowing eyes

It's for myself and my friends; my stories are sung

But time ain't tall, yet on time you depend

And no word is possessed by no special friend

And though the line is cut

It ain't quite the end

I'll just bid farewell till we meet again.

Oh, a false clock tries to tick out my time

To disgrace, distract, and bother me

And the dirt of gossip blows into my face

And the dust of rumors covers me

But if the arrow is straight

And the point is slick

It can pierce through the dust, no matter how thick

So I'll make my stand

And remain as I am

And bid farewell and not give a damn.

~ Bob Dylan

U.S.A.

~ Beannaichte'

 8 June, 2016

@beannaichte,twitter.com