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610 · Dec 2013
the earth isn't flat
SE Reimer Dec 2013
like
the blues,
eventually, the song
will end, inevitabily it will;
making way for sunnier tunes,
life's cycles that bring my sadness can be counted on 
to bring my hope... my ever reminder
that life, like the earth, is not flat
and doesn't revolve
around
me!
Post script.

there are days, sometimes whole seasons,
i must remind myself every moment...
"it's not about you, Steve, it's really not about you!"

(and yes, i do love blues... and jazz!! :)
607 · May 2014
love is the purpose (10w)
SE Reimer May 2014
knowing** that i am

                is enough

                                for

                                *one thousand lifetimes!
post script.

in response to one of my previous poems, my dear, dear friend, Harlon Rivers, commented to me, "love is the purpose.,.."  
and from his statement of truth, this axiom, came this simple 10 word response...  how could i want for anything more than to know?  

read his beautiful musings and you too will know what i know... about him... about yourself:   http://hellopoetry.com/harlon-rivers/
607 · Nov 2015
Why?
SE Reimer Nov 2015
(my answer to her "Scar")

~

drawn to her and here
by mutual friend,
a not-so-neutral standerby,
i am undone by reading
her entreating,
questions haunting...
why?

i too will never understand
how scars can heal
how love divides.
the hurting, haunting
ever daunting
rage and hate inside,
it turns me
to an ever wanting
knowledge...
why?

the answer comes
in whispered winds,
in knowings deep within.
this mortal plain
does not remain;
this clock
will one day stop;
this heart will beat
this side no more;
these feet will
draw unto this chest,
when fleeting moments,
thought-filled words,
my last i love you's
whispered from my breast.
and then the realness,
truest journey starts
where all i take
is what i've made
and carry there
within this heart.
a redefining mission.
as i introspective, listen,
to my Creator whispering,
"welcome to my new beginning!
you, i've waited long to hold;
'well done' on earth is not the end,
for she was just the womb.
this place, your home,
now birthed anew;
the journey now embarks.
i'm thrilled you packed
so carefully,
the treasures carried
in your heart."

~

post script.

more could be said, but why?
for we know the answer if
we listen to the whisperings within.

SPT, a gifted artist...
mostly because she asks
such beautiful,
soul-searching
questions!*

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1449901/scar/
600 · Sep 2013
discarded truth (10w)
SE Reimer Sep 2013
truth disguised as clever words,

too oft discarded or deferred
i love wit, clever words and occasional sarcasm, but sometimes it's just better to say it plainly if you want the pill to be swallowed
600 · Feb 2014
vint - aging (10 word)
SE Reimer Feb 2014
fine
wine
or
raisin...
age
produces
one
or
the
other...
post script.

happy 10 W Tuesday, my HP friends
(: well it is still here on the west coast :)

inspiration and credit to Ann, who's poem got this crazy mind going and wondering, who decides how we age...  http://hellopoetry.com/poem/611311/age-well-10-word/
594 · May 2015
coffee kisses (10w)
SE Reimer May 2015
~

coffee kisses

'tween mister and misses,

sharing... life's tastiest wishes!

~

*post script.

my profile reveals a tiny secret
(: Steve

(: no... its not 10w Tuesday, but Sunday seemed so much more appropriate for this :)
592 · Sep 2016
autumn fresh
SE Reimer Sep 2016
~

her face more weathered
than the softened lines of spring,
the supple skin that i’d remembered;
bright rouge cheeks now faded,
first to ocher, then to umber,
over-baked in summer’s noonday sun.
a gentle rain has washed her clean,
has rinsed the dusty air,
and lips once parched and taut
refilled with moisture;
now the coming brilliance,
golden orange in varied hue,
the sultry face of haze,
of summer’s afternoon.
she turns slowly with a misty gaze,
a taste of autumn's coming glory.
a gradual distance growing,
yet still a sparkle in her eye;
less mischievous,
down to business...
resolute in preparation.
a touch of teardrop,
formed in folded recesses,
slips unnoticed from its corner,
except the glistening trail it leaves,
as it trickles ’cross,
her amber meadow’s face;
now her lips will taste
the golden brilliance;
sunshine’s lazy breaking beams
drift above the sun-dried lawn,
a morning mist of rain-washed air,
the smell of moistened linen,
hanging o’er the low-hung lines,
blends refreshing scent
with drifting, harvest smoke,
from curling ember’s
dance on wood and leaves;
rising slowly, lightly
lapping in the breezes;
and in the distant sky,
we see, we smell, we taste,
every sense anticipates,
as droplets in formation wait;
the rains are coming,
summer slowly loosens grip.
her body feels the changing air,
a sad anticipation of the end;
but wistfully she knows,
of celebration coming
of harvest’s swoon,
of cradle moons
of wine, of dance, of song;
autumn’s coming, t’will be here soon
behind her winter won’t be long,
yet this today she holds,
let tomorrow wait;
let today for readying be,
the joyful jubilation,
a floral conflagration
summer’s final harvest, and
the autumn’s color ball!

~

*post script.

season’s change conjoured as a woman's face; of summer make-up being removed; of taking on autumn’s hues.

i’d be lying if i said i looked forward to NW winter and its rain, yet still it is a small price to pay for the lush, green hills and valleys of my corner of the world, of torrential waterfalls, even of my kitchen faucet, bearing sparkling, crystal, water from fresh, snow melt at the simple turn of a lever.
584 · Nov 2013
Dressing
SE Reimer Nov 2013
on the leafy salad of my life
you are the dressing...
for without you its all just
let-us and wish-es!
Post Script.
this, the silly, corny, jumble of thoughts that dropped out as my love told me about her list of preparations for our Thanksgiving Day dinner with our sons and their families. i love every part of her, even those things that used to so irritate me are becoming more and more endearing!!!
584 · Nov 2013
Plagiarist’s End
SE Reimer Nov 2013
they  found  him  lying... 
beneath the weight 
of  stolen 
lines!
copycats never win (10w)

though these words are true, i sometimes wonder if Solomon was right... is there ANYTHING new under the sun; are any of my words really my own?  or did i read them somewhere and then they jumbled, tumbled out rearranged as "my own?"
582 · Sep 2017
weathered soul
SE Reimer Sep 2017
~

his ropes are worn but hold the strain;
they’ve seen far worse in wind, in rain.
his deck is bare, his winch is full,
his back and arms ache. yet again;
though soon his catch the hold will fill,
with hissing jaws and snapping claws;
reward of toil with traps of steel.
’neath cloud and sun, to dusk from dawn,
with weathered hand he works and sweats;
to bring to port ’fore sun has set,
there’s hungry mouths to feed at home;
a wife whose face his hands to hold.
in years still young, but days too old,
these seas have aged his weathered soul;
and eyes that peer neath bill-ed hat,
have wept as waves stole all he has;
not once, but twice they claimed his lot,
sunk to its bed like fallen stone;
but skill and luck his love has bought,
her prayers from home have brought him back.
of fable and of myth he’s made,
cup of saltiness with pinch of sin;
with baited traps he lays in wait,
yet knows he is the baited one;
for he’ll ne’er throw in these lines,
or trade his trusted trawler in.
a farmer’s life may suit his love,
but this she sees would be his end;
and so she lives each day in wait,
for his trawler's horn to sound.
this too she knows far too well,
one day his horn will sound no more.
no coffin nor a stone he’ll need;
the sea will bear him to that shore,
his lasting gift to her is them,
each child's face, his own imprint.
the sea his final resting place.
his voice to hear amidst the wind;

~

*post script.

an imagined crabber and lobsterman; with mouths to feed and a love he needs back home, owing much to prayer and good fortune, though even this has it limits as the sea's rigors daily tempt fate.  these lines mused from my own castings of traps and nets... of harvesting the sea’s bounty for a mere weekend, with my lover near at hand.  

https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/05/magazine/a-speck-in-the-sea.html

pss.  i am many months away and life has changed; these changes are still a work in progress.  my goals too have been rearranged... death and hardship have that effect on us, though sometimes change that feels alarming actually takes us to a place of salvation; this being my constant hope!  i make no promises that i am back, only that for now i am here, and have missed you and the sacredness of these walls.
581 · Jan 2017
broad brushes
SE Reimer Jan 2017
~

broad brushes
are unsuitable
instruments
of box-making,
group-judging,
individual-assassinating,
of any group
or citizen,
becoming
wall-building
words that bite,
that wound,
that ****,
all that is
loving and genteel!

but they are
the perfect
implement,
for painting
the most beautiful,
sea-to-shining-sea
landscape
works of art!

~

*post script.

collectively, undivided, are we not better than this? and need we wait for others to become the mortar for city-building-on-a-hill activities?
579 · Nov 2016
the key
SE Reimer Nov 2016
~

is this not a gift...
this the simple state of mind,
one which frames the past,
of all that's gone behind!
is this not the lens...
through which but few will see;
this the door to hope,
all but... invisibly!
a doorway scant will find,
for it hides within the shadows;
is shrouded in life’s mists,
and to e’en the mightiest foe,
this door is proven to resist.
yet those who find this state of mind,
these the few of simplicity’s kind,
prepared by life for another view,
these the ones who hold this truth;
for with a heart clothed,
with but a longing and a prayer,
an adornment of thankfulness,
this doorway to hope will appear;
as a lock that finds its key,
to the one who is clothed,
in an attitude’s raiment,
the door is already ajar;
and with only a nudge,
it will swing open wide,
beyond, to a pathway to love,
and the key to this future,
this doorway to hope...
this is gratitude’s garment!

~

*post script.

there is no secret
to what opens this door;
a heart of gratitude is key.
577 · Oct 2013
the fan
SE Reimer Oct 2013
i found someone 
a fan for life
she keeps no score 
this friend, my wife

she is, “my goodness” 
my, “God knows when”
my inspiration 
she is my pen!!!
576 · Dec 2013
Lifelong Gift
SE Reimer Dec 2013
she is
the gift
that takes
a lifetime
to unwrap
Post script.

happy 10 word Tuesday and even more...
today i celebrate my dear wife's birthday;
happy birthday, my darling!!!
572 · Aug 2013
Heartmelt
SE Reimer Aug 2013
The teardrops that fall,
Like ink from your eyes,
Etch indelible words on this heart;
In your fountain they mingle, 
With words from your lips,
As an “I love you” softly spills out.
Cool, water-filled pools,
Carved deep into stone,
With the force of a waterfall;
Forgiveness restores,
As on hot coals it is poured,
Who knew tears were so powerful.
Here the soft, soothing sand,
Entices our bodies to dance,
You melt the heart of this warrior.
571 · Apr 2015
deliberations
SE Reimer Apr 2015
~

a sentencing phase?
not really!
it is instead
a punctuation
deliberation!
be it a period
or a comma
to his phrase,
a life gone…
so terribly wrong,
awry!
oats sewn in haste
becoming
tares of waste
for thrashing,
not for threshing!

his acts despicable,
his name
an alliteration
to us unspeakable;
the terrifying
seen as desperation,
now in need of
great deliberation.
his end undertaken
by those he counted
once as peers,
these twelve poor souls,
now gods
with feet of clay;
his determined fate
to destine and ordain.

is any among
these twelve a peer
to the one
so driven
to destruction?
undeserving of
an exclamation point
no peer am i
as i hypothesize,
at most i’d put
his name in
(parenthesis)
not above,
but underneath
that cold, hard stone;
and ‘neath his name
omit the dash
between his beginning
and his ending.

~

*post script.

(Dzhokhar Tsarnaev)

yes, it is a cold, hard subject,
yet one worth discussing
if only for the sake of
reminding ourselves that
some do not, will not ever
respond to the correction
and the instruction of
a civilized society.
the very basis for
the correction system
in a civilized society
should be one of hope...
hope of restoration,
hope of redemption,
hope of a soul's resurrection.
when hope is gone,
what action then?
and in what manner
are we then charged?
571 · Sep 2013
The Point (10w)
SE Reimer Sep 2013
Death sentence,
is   not... 
it's more 
of an

exc
lam
ati
on 

poi
nt
!
570 · Mar 2015
how we roll
SE Reimer Mar 2015
~

over or under,
it's all the flap;
the ins and outs
enough to make
a guy snap.
seriously folks,
whats all the yap
bout how you roll
in the cleanup of “that”?
wish everyone
would try to relax;
your fuss is enough to
make an addict relapse!
those who are saying
"you gotta adapt,"
i say, "don’t gotta!" and,
"they’re full of crap!"
cuz no matter
the direction, it
still beats burlap!
so however you like
for the roll to unwrap,
please can't we agree to
roll with it, baby?
i think that somebody
needs to chillax!

~

*post script.

just in case anyone wondered if this writer could be anything but serious and sad...  http://diply.com/different-solutions/over-vs-under-toilet-paper-debate/106314
561 · Apr 2016
no noun is poetry
SE Reimer Apr 2016
for the love of pejorative poetry*

~

i was minding my business,
the tending of words,
assuring they’re watered,
they’re grazed and they sleep;
dividing the ewes,
from the yous;
sadly, all shepherds have
one runaway sheep,
who needs for more tending
than attendance has thyme.

(there... see that?
see what just happened
to this story of mine?)

of course dinner is calling,
and it's not so appalling,
for we all need something
to serf on the palate.
and a wandering iamb
will serve up just fine,
yes! this palette will please
at this dinner of mine!
you tell me, “that’s mean!”
“no never!” i repeat,
for i say it’s merely
the culling of words,
... so to speak.

having far more to learn
than having been taut,
i tend rather high strung,
using all manner of phrases,
and words where ought not.
for instants...
i didn’t know,
to drive them to market
can drive one to drink,
if one isn’t careful
one can end up a shrink
(or was that need one),
or even worse,
wind up like Ms. Muffit,
who i’m told was last scene
eating her whey
through the curds...
(or was it having
her way with words?)

but back to my story,
the tending of verbs.
all I can say is
while minding my business,
as good reimer’s do,
in broadening horizons,
in pushing the boundaries,
one little poem
put a kink in my foundry;
all this to say, that
she struck a nerve...
(so is that more
like striking out
or striking it rich?)
but no matter,
for the world hasn’t
been the same since.

life's little questions
are now up in my face,
my wife doesn't speak to me
i’m losing grace,
and the more that
i wonder, i ponder,
(or was it wander and pander)
for does one miche in a niche,
and can one skulk in a sulk?
my point being simply this...

discovery or uncovery,
here’s what i found
poetry is simply,
it's so plane to see;
it's quiet oblivious
for someone like me,
she ain’t no noun...
no, i say “poetry” is a verb!
she’ll never be more than
a do-it-to-yourself project!
no, this tending of words
won’t make you a prophet.

so now, dinner is over,
they’ve served just deserts;
if you’re not gonna eat that,
would you mind very much,
if i had the last word?

~
post crypt

all for the love of pejorative poetry... and after reading
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1617957/poetry-has-ruined-my-life

where he left these words In the after reading...

“friend, this is a most brilliant rendition, though with slightly different escapades, mine being escapings no less, for you have found a nerve... have struck the word... because poetry is no noun i say; no, poetry is a verb!”
560 · Oct 2013
the rainbow
SE Reimer Oct 2013
...

weapon,

turned on its head;

**cast in beautiful, living light
10w...   credit to Soul for inspiring me to see the light this morning!

post script:  sharing with someone over the water cooler this morning at work, I realized in their confused expression that not everyone might get the innuendo in this pen.  the story of Noah and the first rainbow is one which illustrates the transition from wrath to forgivness, juxtaposing the most lethal weapon of man at that time (the hunting bow) to a symbol of peace - that same weapon hung up, perpetually on display in the sky after a rainfall - metaphor of wrath (war on mankind) never to be repeated.
557 · Oct 2013
the wrong end?
SE Reimer Oct 2013
why do we so over emphasize

fruit... 

instead

of

root

?
credit given to Ann, who started this mind thinking on this ten-word-tuesday.
555 · May 2016
pane of view
SE Reimer May 2016
~

my view is blocked,
or so i thought,
yet mine unmitigated
unfiltered by another’s unseen hand.
i, the product of my joy, my pain;
the view is mine and in this frame
i often walk alone,
beside an ocean beach swept clean,
devoid of clutter,
anything distracting.
my view is mine;
no substitute for what i’ve learned,
my sight unblocked,
tis everything this life has earned!
so should i see life differently,
and should i not with you agree, then
do not think your view so different,
and do not think yours all to see.
leave me lie beside my pane,
and leave these eyes to find their gaze;
for i am not so unlike you,
my experience alone has changed
the way i see the joys of rain,
the way i hear the thunder’s glory;
of this i’m sure,
on this i’m certain,
you would share my point of view,
were you to live my story...
were you to feel my joy, my pain,
and should you gaze as long as i
for truth behind my curtain!

~

*post script.

her simple words...  "did you block me" start a progression of thought. my simple answer, "apparently, but without intention." but the bigger answer lies in this life question, is it possible to block another's view? my simple answer... no.  funny thow such honest words that she chose, start a chain, a train of progessing thought.  i am glrateful she asked, for she may have broken the writer's block that along with time deficiency has kept me.from these favored halls.  thank you, Sarah!
555 · Sep 2013
a dose of happiness (10w)
SE Reimer Sep 2013
sunshine,
puppies,
your sweet kisses,*
each dose increasing in
feelgoodrynes!
is it just me?  or does everyone else feel the euphoria I get from a hug, a kiss, a thank you... a wet puppy's nose?  (dang, but I'm a softie on this fine fall day... just don't tell the guys at the office ;)
553 · Jun 2016
release
SE Reimer Jun 2016
~

awakened river ripples, all that tells
the world above
life beneath the surface teems;
its ever current washes clean thousand
year-old scars,
granite faces polishing;
mossy garden fingers gentle fluttering,
alive in watery breeze;
and rainbows flashing from the deep their
momentary smiles,
their call to join in hide and peek;
riffle's laughter,
rising from her depths calls as if to speak,
i offer peace, come dip your
harried soul in me;
the tranquility you seek, flows not in
current's rushing stream,
but in living here, in still release.

~

*post script.

a much-needed, hard-earned getaway,
coming in days with a few nights
by the sea...

this perhaps my harried soul’s pre-release.
547 · Apr 2016
dance of grace
SE Reimer Apr 2016
~

clarion call, answered here by two,
were reminder ever needed,
as mating swans for lifetime do,
see, their neck’s entwined embrace,
though ’neath the surface,
feet are moving, paddle, steer,
we observing only,
this their dance of grace,
reflecting in the water’s mirror.
’tis our ever ’minder that, though
the struggle will not ever end,
dancing still is graceful when,
the dance is with your best friend.

... may your dance be always graceful!

~

*post script.

no reverend am i, yet honored today to perform a wedding, a first ever for me, though something i have always thought i would love to do.  latitude given by the bride makes preparation a most wonderful part of this intersection with their journey, stirring creativity... and this.
547 · Apr 2020
dream-breaker
SE Reimer Apr 2020
(the knocker-upper)

~

slumber-held, locked in sleep,
woke one morn, late you see;
time rolled back 100 years,
this the era of my dream.
a world gone dark, power gone out,
no microwaves and no AC!
no hydro dams, no Tesla car,
no ’lectric drill... and no TV!
of alarm clocks? who’d ever heard!
the super star of world gone dark?
well, in my dream, tha’d be me!
for a world gone dark still must needs,
to wake at break of day!
needs knocker-uppers ev’rywhere,
the chief of which is me!
for i'm the knocker upper man
you think i knock for free? no,
a knocker upper for my supper
i’ll blow a pea for fee,
i rap the glass to roust the sleeper
my craft is breaking dreams, you see...
for who’ll wake the knocker upper?
in my dream the knocker upper chief,
the superstar of world gone dark?
yes, in my dream, tha’d be me!

~

post script.

in my morning reading, i stumbled on a once-upon-a-time... an age when mankind churned out all manner of product by hand.  this then my muse, a lighthearted glimpse of an era before the alarm clock.  in this i imagine the world before the light bulb, and as in ev’ryone’s own dreams, i play the hero. :). of course, then i awaken to find myself at my true station in life, a server of servers!  a most fitting title for whom i am meant to be!! 😋

“But who woke the knocker uppers?” A tongue-twister from the time tackled this conundrum:
We had a knocker-up, and our knocker-up had a knocker-up
And our knocker-up’s knocker-up didn’t knock our knocker up,
So our knocker-up didn’t knock us up ‘Cos he’s not up.
articles that tell the story:
www.bbc.com/news/amp/uk-england-35840393

lancashireminingmuseum.org/2017/09/07/who-knocked-up-the-knocker-upper/

yes, yes, i know, i have been absent of late. the world has changed though i have not, simply gotten busier than i ever expected to be at my age, my absence from these walls  not one of choices made by me so much as choices made by life. hope this makes you smile as much as i did in its writing!!!

peace my friends
SE
543 · Sep 2013
Child Loss
SE Reimer Sep 2013
the anti-club with
lifetime membership;
dues paid daily...
in tears
to Maria, Connie, my wife and all those of you who unwillingly "joined" the anti-club of child loss... i wish comfort and peace to you today. (10w)
533 · Feb 2016
share
SE Reimer Feb 2016
~

i have always loved the truth that...


grief shared

is grief divided,



while love shared

is love multiplied!


~


*post script.

gives new meaning to
"sharing in one's suffering"

and

allows us to say unequivocally,
"i'll give you a share of mine!"

my inspiration- PoetryJournal,  please read their’s here:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1551297/shine-when-you-burn/
531 · Dec 2016
seeds
SE Reimer Dec 2016
~

the purest
possibilities,
in my hand lie;
kinetics in
miniature,
these what-can-be,
packages of dna;
manual of direction,
a manuscript precise,
compendium of
instruction;
these gathered
strands like
silken rope
not easily broken;
pre-known,
pre-programmed,
to be all that
can ever be
pre-planned,
pre-destined,
yet before
living must...
die!

carnation, corn
posey and peas,
happiness, hope,
love and peace,
in my palm
all possibilities,
e’en seeds
of change,
sown so long ago,
dead and buried,
warmed and watered,
nurtured, tended
sprouting now;
what will be...
may already
be determined
completely,
but...

their height,
their health,
their breadth of
wealth,
their depth of
beauty and
band of
fragrance...
these are all
within my hand
to cultivate
perfect,
and bring
to fruition;
like poetry
in motion,
all like seeds
within my grasp.

~

*post script.

"unless a grain of wheat falls
into the earth and dies,
it remains... alone;
but if it dies,
it bears much fruit."

and is this not the most exciting,
the most compelling part?
watching one’s seeds grow,
and bear much fruit...
the becoming of,
great beauty?
529 · Mar 2019
Milky Way
SE Reimer Mar 2019
~

like an old man,
tired and cold;
weathered trunk,
bent and gaunt;
shouldering the
weight of years,
yet ever leaning
toward the stars.
these the promises
of days gone by;
his heavy eyes,
gaze to where,
the pinpoint lights,
are strewn across,
a darkened night;
beckons of what lies,
above the Milky Way;
beyond the distant veil.
hope unwavering,
in his ear;
still gently
from the stars
she’s whispering,
“patiently,
i am waiting
for you here;
again together,
soon, forever,
never parting,
darling, dear!”

~
post script.

he leaves behind the warmth and comfort, and a snow-shoed path; he presses through the night, looking for the perfect frame, to deliver light and hope amidst the darkness.  i am smitten by his passion; my awe of the eternal, renewed by his endless pursuit

a talented and dedicated astrophotography friend posted a photo of the Milky Way framed by a bent and tired, old tree, against a frozen lake.  he’s got skills i only could wish for... so i let him simply be my muse.
526 · Sep 2016
admiring the butterflies
SE Reimer Sep 2016
~

our existence...
the unknowable slice,
this blue planet life
where we live, akin
to an infinitesimal,
myopic caterpillar, who
seeks what he cannot see,
answers to questions
he knows not exist,
in a language he
doesn't perceive
is limited in ways
he cannot conceive,
that he has not the words
to begin to comprehend,
or explain...

like the color of music;
the scent of blue;
the sound of the clouds;
the touch of a rainbow.


these are and life is
to him unknowable,
and just how stunning,
and very beautiful,
extraordinary incredible
...he is,
both now
and even more so intended,
is destined,
to one day become.

for today,
he merely
exists...
infinitesimal,
myopic,
caterpillar
that he is;

content to
admire the butterflies
as they soar
in their colors
and float in the mists
overhead,
just beyond reach...
and wonder!

~

*post script.

it is this writer’s belief that our soul is immortal, but that our attempts to understand, to explain or in any way convey to ourselves or anyone else what we see it to be, is equal to our ability to explain our existence here on this rock.... try or wish as we might, our capacity to do so falls far short, leaving us to simply dream, which frankly... i think i prefer to knowing.
526 · Apr 2015
sommelier (10w)
SE Reimer Apr 2015
~

your words... soothing notes;
my coffee... extra bold;
exquisite pairing!

~

*post script.

my HP friends, reading your beautiful poetry this morning has me tipsy on your tasty words... lingering on your every flowing word!
509 · Sep 2013
Our Journey
SE Reimer Sep 2013
A tribute to the good times,

cannot neglect the rough.

Without a struggle comes no prize,

cocoon would yield no butterfly,

and without the rain the rose would die.

So when I'm tempted to forget,

just how far we've come,

please remind me, dear.

Please remind me that you love me,

sweet promise whisper in my ear.

Repaint the mem'ries 'cross my mind,

kaleidoscope of precious times.

Remind me that our journey,

of a thousand miles began,

these many years ago now,

the day you took my hand.

Remind me that each day,

is just another step,

toward dreams and goals and promises,

that together will be kept.
one of the earlier poems i wrote for my wife... had to be twenty years ago now
506 · Jan 2017
night light
SE Reimer Jan 2017
~

darkness needs no chasing,
and hate requires no erasing;
neither needs a fight,
when we only need
to find the light.
(and love) switch.
see...
it there upon
the wall?
its been there all
along.
see?
reach...
deep inside your heart!

for darkness in light’s
very presence ceases
to exist when light can
shine in to all the reaches.
all the hidey holes and creases.

you'll not find a child.
who on a cloudless night.
will gaze into the sky.
and exclaim with all their might,
“wow, look at all the dark!”
no! they’ll see but stars,
a myriad points of bright
no need to curse the dark
when you can simply
find the light.

so bring a flashlight.
bring a lantern.
bring a love light.
to your corner
of the world.
pay no mind to
all the darkness;
turn the light on,
let love harken!
its so simple
you will wonder,
why you had to read
these silly words,
for that inner
switch inside you
like the light bulb
just turned on.

;-)

~

post script.

imagine asking for a dark bulb at your local hardware store.  far too much energy is being wasted trying to run around and chase it, when its just a switch away.

“And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also."  Gen 1:6

*i know, we both want something super profound... but why?  because it feels like more?  no!  come on... let’s stop complicating what really is that simple!!
500 · Apr 2015
love 4 two @ six (in 10)
SE Reimer Apr 2015
~

i'll serve dinner,
drinks and romance,
if you'll wear...
ambiance!

~

*post script

yum-my
500 · Oct 2014
lasting love (10w)
SE Reimer Oct 2014
love fallen into will never last like a love built!
500 · Dec 2013
I Can't Leave
SE Reimer Dec 2013
"We can't stay here"
he says...
as tears trickle slowly
down her face.
Unable to hold them back,
she can only nod,
all the while thinking...
"I can't leave;
leaving feels
too much like
forgetting."
Post script.

last evening's conversation with my wife...
she asks no pity,
but almost five years later she grieves...
deeply... daily...
a dearest son who never said goodbye...
the melancholy of the season
gripping her in its anguished, icy hold.
489 · Mar 2017
"veiled" threat
SE Reimer Mar 2017
~

he knew the hour had come,
to keep a promise he had made.
the time to settle up,
and now a note that must be paid.
the price he’d never argued,
the terms... oh, these were clear;
but he’d not imagined this,
the cost of giving up
his freedom he held dear.
in retrospect he could have run,
he surely wouldn’t be the first;
but it was something in her eyes
that said, “boy, this ain't your worst
nightmare!  trust me hon,
to leave would be a downward slide.
best stay and walk this aisle, love,
it don't pay to leave behind your bride.
my brother’s worn his runnin’ boots,
and daddy brought his gun;
his hound dog knows your scent,
try runnin’ boy, you might be done.
if i were you i’d weigh the odds,
and besides...
is it me you fancy on your arm?
or would you wish instead
the jaws of daddy’s dog?”

~

*post script.

not my story, just my wild imagination running down the street. the thought of it made me smile and when i read it to my sweet wife she chuckled aloud. so if you did too, i will consider my work here to be done!  enjoy, my friends!!
(: Steve
488 · Sep 2013
we are...
SE Reimer Sep 2013
like
ICEBERGS
 
amongst a sea of ships; 

beautiful, 
yet 

t
r
e
a
c
h
e
r
o
u
s
inspired by Maria; her poem Surface Matters got me thinking about how we can hurt others if what lies below our surface hasn’t been processed well. (10w)
486 · Oct 2016
marked
SE Reimer Oct 2016
~

black marks
on page white,
the start alone
does not seem right;
and so i arrange these o's and x's,
my meager attempt
to unblemish.
my ugly imperfections!

~

post script.

soiling an otherwise clean page means a writer's every start is a deficit to overcome!
484 · Sep 2013
her beauty lies (10w)
SE Reimer Sep 2013
her beauty lies..

skin deep;

her ugly,
to the bone!
(this statement is not gender specific;  i use “her” only for prose)
479 · Mar 2015
reflections
SE Reimer Mar 2015
~

the difference
just a day makes,
as my sun gives
way to tears;
its a different
kind of mourning,
yet i wonder
even here...
would i rather
life was lived,
instead of just
with hindsight,
was visible
in arrears?
perhaps,
sometimes,
my head nods,
yes,
but oh how often
would i miss
the wonder of
discovery;
the joy of doors
once closed,
opened when
i least expect?
and would
my choices
be the same,
with my foresight
saving me
from all the pain
that follows
love's discovery?
no,
i think
i'll take life
with all its twists
and turns
just as
its already
being written!

~

*post script

today balmy spring-like temperatures gave way to Oregon's typical late-winter rains. it is.always amazing to me how dependant we are on the weather for our moods; this change reflecting a mood already felt, a melencholy already known. sometimes it seems the weather knows best.
477 · Dec 2016
ode to 'tis
SE Reimer Dec 2016
(and 'twill and 'twas)

~

if e're there be an ode... a dirge,
if e’re procession for a fallen word,
’tis, for thee that we,
this day in silence stand,
to grieve... nay protest,
this thy sudden abandonment.
see, my head on chest,
hear, 'midst sobbing tear,
i lift a toast to thy sweet company,
thy brotherhood, of yesteryear.
’tis, to thee we offer,
these few words of praise;
’tis... to thee in homage,
in salute our hand we raise,
how and why, hast thou gone away?
and when did thy embalmers
so sudden fall upon
thy eternal form of grace?
surely, they that decreed thy death,
hath dealt to us a wint’ry breath;
for n’er hath so small a form,
so satisfied and warmed,
a poet’s lonely bones,
as this friend known as ’tis.
long shall we remember thee;
the grace by which you lived!

~

post script.

my spirit was broken and
my heart wept at this news!  
may he e’re rest in peace!
RIP ’tis!
( i believe in offering credit where credit is due and invite you to read the inspiring comment by Lance Jencks in the after reading of:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1823769/this-river/)
henceforth let it be known by all,
that hereafter these beloved titles shall be called,
“It Is The Season To Be Jolly” and
“It Was The Night Before Christmas"
for tis and ’twas lie in repose!

lovingly yours,
(; Steve
SE Reimer Dec 2014
~

the fountain on Main Street is frozen fast,
its wishes lie captured ’neath a sheet of glass;
the tinkling of bells is heard in the air,
it mingles with children playing in the square;
and exchanges of cheer as villagers greet,
watching cotton-like snowflakes fall in the street.
here white picket fences are wrapped in red lights,
form a candy cane lane in the coming night;
each street light adorned with a wreath and a dove,
and smoke from a fireplace curls wistfully above;
where icicles hang fearless, like lights they reflect,
and tree boughs bend low to pay their respects.
’tis Christ’s birth, they know; it's “that” time of year;
the season of joy; time to set aside tears.

far from the city, in this village they know,
the season they sing of is more than just bows,
than presents and wrapping, than green trees with *****,
nestled here ’neath the mountains, far from the malls,
they find treasure and meaning in the littlest things,
in stables with mangers, in angels with wings.
grateful far more for Giver, than ever the gift;
finding faith, hope and love to be true gifts that lift.
joining Christ at His Mass, in a world oft gone wrong,
they celebrate the Child in worship-filled song;
and the sound of their voices lifts high out of sight,
to dance with the breeze on this Christmas Eve’s night.
yes, ’tis Christ’s birth, they know... it's “that” time of year;
a season of joy, with good news to declare.

~

*post script.

we are saddened by the dilution of Christmas as a meaningful holy day in our western culture, yet mindful that it is individuals who can make this different; who need only make a decision to, with intentionality, bring this aspect back into their lives, letting others do what they will do.
464 · Nov 2013
Excuse me?
SE Reimer Nov 2013
excuses 
are 
the 
skin 
of 
reason 
stuffed 
with 

lie!
not really mine to claim as i heard this one growing up... a lot!  and then of course repeated it to my children  (10w).  
happy Ten-Word Tuesday, all!!!
461 · Nov 2015
paper or plastic?
SE Reimer Nov 2015
~

"paper or plastic?"
she asks as i stand;
her chatter, all
friend-like... warms
my heart while she scans,
and insures i’m a fan.
i reach for my jeans
and draw from my pocket,
my wallet falls open
(it's lost all elastic),
no green in its folds
cuz my wife got there first,
"guess this time i will
be paying with plastic."



"paper or plastic?"
my answer he asks,
my groceries all scanned
’cross the checkout counter,
in disarray they lie waiting,
for the next stop, my home;
but the trip to my car
at the end of the lot,
and the slamming of brakes
to bring my car to a stop,
yeah, that bag better hold!
"i think it is best...
do you mind if i ask
for a little of both?"



"paper or plastic?"
she asks with a smile!
the look on her face
does not beguile
the dance of her eyes,
as our food she prepares;
a feast for the palate
this Saturday’s eve.
my reply, unexpected,
off my tongue rolls,
with such ease...
“this ain’t no diner, love!
thanks, but no thanks,
i’d prefer china... please!"


~

*post script.

a fun one that has been tumbling around inside this silly head for months, just dying to come out. enjoy this, yet another glimpse ’neath the covers of this ADHD mind!!
458 · Aug 2015
favorites
SE Reimer Aug 2015
~

color...
the changing palette of bluest green and softest brown,
that gaze out the soul panes that adorn your face tween nose and brow.

taste...
that hint of mint on your breath with the slightest note of chardonnay
that dances on my tongue during a long goodnight kiss.

smell...
the smell of fresh linen, soft cotton with hints of floral scent on sea breeze,
that lingers in your hair and in the air after a long, sweet embrace.

sound...
the hushed whispers of your voice as you tell me,
"i'll stay the night tonight... and every one hereafter, 'til i breathe my last!"

place...
the gentle rising, shaded shoulder of bare land where i lay my head
between your slender arm, your silky neck.

memory...
the natural way your head fits perfectly twixt my arm and chest,
like a memory foam all its own made just for you.

person...
you... in all your forms, adorned and unadorned;
in grief, laughter, in hope, ever after!

~

*post script.

happy anniversary, darling!
thirty-six years ago today
you made me the happiest
and most blessed man
on God's green earth!
if i could go back
and change things...
i'd change nothing!
446 · Mar 2015
spillway
SE Reimer Mar 2015
~

his heart’s response,
its waterfall;
cascade tumbling,
cleanses all
embattled,
dusty trenches,
these heart-wrenched,
rusty, dried-out ends;
a faucet opened,
floodgates broken,
spillway leading
to relief;
channel of
redemption,
overcomes his
apprehension,
and dares to bare
his heart’s
intention;
betrays the truth
that lies beneath,
yes, his bottled tears
need this release,
and his longing,
thirsty soul
it finally quenches.

~

*post script.


if a man weeps in the darkness does anyone hear?  does his culture drive that man to hide his inner fears?  is he emasculated by his tears?  do they infer his weakness, or do they simply reveal his humanity, his identity that is neither culture nor age defined, his propensity to feel all that it is to be human... if they would but let him?  perhaps i am just one of the fortunate ones; who employs a blend of caring, understanding friends and the rest-who-don’t-be-******!  what is the price to be paid for those who are not as lucky as i?
445 · Feb 2016
held
SE Reimer Feb 2016
~

of pretty girls i’ve known so many,
but i have promised to one only
this heart that her soul warms,
these arms that round her forms,
these lips that to hers press,
these hands her charms caress.
her inner beauty, outer graced,
resides a peace-inducing smile,
adorns her graceful, aging face,
the eyes that show her kindness
call to mine with love’s embrace.

she is easily loved,
not so easily deterred;
her fiercely loyal heart
soothes me when disturbed;
she asks for little, gives unfettered;
hopes for much, in which i’m bettered;
compels me lead, though she is shepherd.
i asked my father long ago
for a mate to hold my hand,
in response he gave me
far more than i had asked.
’twas gifted lover and a friend,
to hold my secrets in her grasp,
she holds my joys, she holds my heart;
she, by far the better part,
of who as one we are.

i, the sinner, become the winner,
absolution mine.
she, forgiver, fault absolver,
i sought her heart with but a prayer;
my eyes awakened to this heaven,
not in wait for what's “up there.”
but wake each morn her fingers wrapped
’round hearts on earth in heavenly clasp.
my father wise, he gave me all,
abundance in what i knew not;
more of what i daily need,
what i hadn't known to ask.

~

*post script.

i have always told her, my father gave me everything i didn't know i needed in a wife. this is evident more with each passing day.  today we celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day, another passing milestone since two teenagers fell in love 38 years ago.
442 · Jan 2014
the perfect marriage (10w)
SE Reimer Jan 2014
~

two imperfect people
refusing
to give up on
one another

~
post script:

happy ten-word Tuesday to you, my fellow HP poets.  though she will disavow it, any mention whatsoever... she is far closer to perfection than i... by leaps, bounds, miles!     and i...   i am as lucky, as lucky can be, for she picked me!
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