Writing from the heart now. Pulling up old writings from as far back as the 1980's to save them. Not sure who will; read this blog but maybe someday my grandchildren will.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Native Wall
A native wall where you can sit
And watch other peoples boats go by
As you eat your breakfast of bread and tea.
You may swim in the harbor at dawn
And wash in salt water and sit on the wall
Until the beach opens for tourists
Who do not want to see you washing.
They come for a tan and a Kalik
And to listen to music they do not understand
And are amused and a little rude
And then they are gone.
The men who wash and sit on the wall
Are workers at the big hotels ands stores.
They put on their uniforms and go to work
Salty and tired and a little sad.
The see you and say “Good Morning!”
And mean it when they say have a nice day.
They call you “Sir” or “Ma’am”
And say “Good Night!” not Good Evening.
They go home to their small houses
And smile when they see their small children
Fresh from school in their smart uniforms
And love them and are happy to be home.
The next day, they may go to the wall
Or wash in the sea, scrubbing off
A little of themselves every day
So that others will enjoy Nassau.
The native wall watches this never-ending play
Without judgment, blame, or guilt
And provides a sheltered place to sit
Where you may think about the day to come
And all the days that have passed by.
Tom Crowley
January 7, 2010
From the Towne Hotel, Nassau
Living The Dream
Living The Dream
Is it better to dream
Or to achieve?
I have done both
And I still do not believe
That our lives can be forced
To fit in a world
Where achievement is celebrated
And dreams lie like flags unfurled.
We raise our children
To dream what they wish
Yet the schools crush the dreams
And turn genius to fish.
We make them miss concerts
Where dreamers dream out loud
While our dreamers do homework
To make mom and dad proud.
Years later we reap
What we shouldn’t have sowed
And lament dreaming visions
Where we were afraid to go.
I sit with my headphones
Over sixty years old
Listening to dreamers
As I sit out in the cold.
It is easy to say
That I have no regrets
But the truth is I am scared
As I try to forget
The dreams that I had
While still a young man
And live out my life
As best that I can.
I still have dreams
And I will ‘til I die
Oh. What the hell?
Lets give it a try!
It’s never too late
Unless you have died
So go chase a dream
And enjoy the ride
F.Thomas