Poems -- November
D
IN MEMORIAM: JOHN HENRY VAN ERT, JR -- born September 22, 1958
Despite his reminder to us all that "the road to heaven winds through hell" John is NOT a 'tortured
soul' poet. Instead, John reveals praise and criticism both as acts of heartfelt love. John's soul is in the
room as he shares his intimate vision of love, life and natural beauty. To hear a man's heart so clearly can only
make another heart cry with joy -- and loss. John says what WE also feel--that's the poet-prophet role all
cultures have needed to heal.
Last night, sitting in our backyard looking up to the heavens at midnight, the full moon blinded us to all
but one of Perseid's show: a huge, blazing swath of sparkling light rushed headlong across the black backdrop--
and just as suddenly was gone. "Wow! That's the first real shooting star I've ever seen," said Larissa, "I guess the
other ones were just my imagination..." Exactly how I feel after reading John'spoetry. --Tim Van Ert
A VISITOR
My father, for example,
who was young once
and blue-eyed,
returns
on the darkest of nights
to the porch and knocks
wildly as the door,
and if I answer
I must be prepared
for his waxy face,
for his lower lip
swollen with bitterness.
And so, for a long time,
I did not answer,
but slept fitfully
between his hours of rapping.
but finally there came the night
when I rose out of my sheets
and stumbled down the hall.
The door fell open
and I knew I was saved
and could bear him,
pathetic and hollow,
with even the least of his dreams
frozen inside him,
and the meanness gone.
And I greeted him and asked him
into the house,
and lit the lamp,
and looked into his blank eyes
in which at last
I saw what a child must love,
I saw what love might have done
had we loved in time.
Mary Oliver
November 24, 2012
THANKS GIVEN
Lord, we don't need the sight of yellow leaves
falling to pile with the scarlet and orange
to signal another end of long summer days.
The same frost that melts to a black tar
last month's brilliant morning glory blossoms
has us huddled here before the hearth.
You know it's not our nature
to give thanks during the hotter days--
long, cold nights slow our hearts down to pray.
Seeing summer's sugars stored
on branches bare but for buds
waiting the winter to be next spring's blooms,
our hearts bulge in booming thanks
for the reserves of energy you provide us
through faith, family and friends.
--if you live, your time will come
November 11, 2012
John, I Rememeber You
Asking me to spread my arms
To lift my eyes
To reflect the blue
Where the eagle flies.
Like me, I know you
Did not spend much
Of your time there either,
For you have eagle heart
Not eagle body.
Still, when I look in your eyes
Always scanning yet focused
I imagine a beak sharp
For bringing back home
The day's wriggling prey.
Baby John we used to call you
And still we call you
And still we all are babies
For these fifty-two years
Crying with you.
Now we cry over you
--No, we cry under you--
As your Spirit released
From its broken body vial
Rises to heaven above.
Thank you for showing me
--Yes, showing all your world--
How the human heart
(Though of vulnerable
Muscle and sinew, too)
Can carry us to the dawning day
We'd thought we'd lost
Forever
To incessant tripping
Over these feet of clay.
Like your beloved blue sky
I produce rains as I cry
To see your nest unattended.
Then the storm is moved along
With wing-beat winds strong
From your eagle spirit.
--if you live, your time will come
November 25, 2011
TRYING TO
SEEKING THE WINDOW TO MY SOUL
I AM LOST
MOTIONLESS, EXCEPT THE TEARS
MY HEART POUNDING OUT THE COST
KNEES BUCKLING TO THE FEARS
THAT RISE SO READILY THESE DAYS
IN THE LATE EVENING HOURS
THOSE FEW MOMENTS
WHEN I STOP AND GAZE
ACROSS THE WALLS AND TOWERS
THAT KEEP ME FROM HOLDING YOU
THE DISTANCE BATHED SILVER AND BLUE
SEEMS TO EXPAND
STREAMING FROM BENETH MY EYES
RAGING MEMORIES THAT LEAD ME TO YOU
CASCADE INWARD, REVEALING THE LIES
THAT SPEAK TO THE VERY SOUL OF ME
THOSE THINGS
BOTH BIG AND SMALL
FOR WHICH THEY SAY LET IT BE
THEY’RE AN ORDER MUCH TOO TALL
I CAN’T FORGET YOU
John Henry Van Ert, Jr
UNPUBLISHED COLLECTION
November 20, 2011
Oceans Lament
Shadows black and primal green
Rush the water, and then retreat again
Into the depths of what I feel
Regenerative force to me revealed
Sketch the houses climbing the hills
Trees wind dancing, never still
Thrown like linen over summer’s bed
Clouds race, part and spread
Cormorants sing an eternal tune
From rocks below, jumbled, strewn
Calls that echo Leviathan deep
Awake my soul from mortal sleep
Scatter blues in sky and sea
Varying moods chant harmony
While diamonds float beyond the foam
To crash the shore and claim their home
Oh that you could see this too!
Blonde shoreline stretch the endless view
Every element become as one
Christened gold by afternoon sun
Words, they fail to represent
The wonder, the soul of His intent
Thus my wish is cast and spent
To have you here is my lament
John Henry Van Ert, Jr
UNPUBLISHED COLLECTION
November 12, 2011
Inclement Weather
Opened my eyes to an empty bed
Wondered out loud
What the hell I’d said
That made you go away
Jumped to my feet
Searched through the house
Not a trace was found
In the lonely cold truth
A door opened to a frozen world
As hard as I tried
I could not see my girl
Up above there was familiar sound
A flock of geese had taken wing
I watched as they flew by
It was then I knew you had gone
To search for solid ground
To let your spirit fly
Though I still wonder why
Is it inclement weather
Or nature's call
That sends you running
Just leaving it all
Sometimes I think
Life is so unfair
Why do you start yearning
When there is a touch of chill in the air
The days are warming
Though you are still not there
Just when you get next to me
I feel the pull, I watch the slide
Gently at first, then stronger
A few moments, then longer
Is it fear that drives you
Or the anxiety of something real
Bolder than before
Tell me, does it hurt to feel?
John Henry Van Ert, Jr
UNPUBLISHED COLLECTION
November 6, 2011
Nobody Knows
What makes me so sure?
When I look into the eyes
Of our children I see
The innocence has been
Replaced with responsibility
We ask so much of them
In this day and age
Before they are done reading
We expect them to turn the page
Latchkey and the TV
Have replaced mom and dad
How do we return to
The good times we once had?
Nobody knows how to love anymore
To stand by their beliefs
See their ships return to shore
It is easier to get by
Day after day
Making excuses and walking away
Divorce is so common
No one even blinks an eye
When two good people
Lose their will to try
Dedication and commitment
Are things of the past
What good are vows
If we don’t make them last?
Nobody knows how to care anymore
We hide in our houses
And lock our doors
There is someone who is hungry
Down on his luck
We criticize his misfortune
Never sparing a buck
Down on the corner
A man crawls on all fours
We stop for a traffic signal
But we won’t open our door
How would it feel if this man were me or you?
Nobody knows how to trust anymore
Remember when neighbors still talked
And kids played outdoors?
When lovers still walked
Dreaming of more
Remember hoping for the best, working hard
And letting God take care of the rest?
John Henry Van Ert, Jr
UNPUBLISHED COLLECTION
November 1, 2011
Only You
The still of an angry afternoon
Bounces off the hanging linen
In this cauldron the hours scorch
The colors off a million leaves
Cracklin’ silver green
In the summer’s breeze
While I stare a message burns
In the whisper of the trees
Relentless the sweat breaks off brow
I cry out, please come home now
Sitting patiently I await the answer
While days drag on like lingering cancer
Through dog days and sultry nights
Faith endures in testament
To the passage of its last rites
Suddenly in a waking dream
There comes a horseman blazing across the sky
Seemingly on course and
Staring me directly in the eye
He tells his tale while flying by
The blazing star screams
It is you, it is I who love only you
Once again I try to explain
While the emptiness
Laden with driving rain
Is chased away with your smile bright
Darkened tunnels burst with morning light
Over obstacles both big and small
This crippled heart
Rises straight and tall
To trust once more, though
I thought I never would
Somehow I think you knew I could
Lovely lady this much I can tell
You hold my future in your wishing well
When reasons to go on
Are hard to sell
The road to heaven winds through hell
Separation is a demon
Its motives untrue
All others forsaken
I whisper it is you
It is I who love only you
John Henry Van Ert, Jr
UNPUBLISHED COLLECTION