Visiting the Doctor

I am sure most of you who are older have had this experience.

Medical Test

Have you ever been in between
with nowhere to move
knowing the way
afraid to go.

Time stands still
like a movie in pause.
It has to continue
to know what will happen,
your life in its hands.

You talk to your mind.
"Stop that worry!
Don't obsess,
creating images, fantasies,
nothing more until you have the facts.
You have to take that test."

As slowly as icicles melt
on a cold winter day
warmed ever so slightly
by a winter sun,
time moves again.
You are afraid.

Nobody knows.
The results will bring
either relief or pain.

More Poems

I have not been keeping this blog up to date. My writing has bent to another area. But I am back today. The poems I am leaving are short and occurred when I was in a hospital room in a place far from home. I hope you enjoy them.

Little Brown Mouse

A little brown mouse came scurrying in
singing to God a little hymn.
Bringing with it a little joy
to a sad and lonely day.

I wondered why that liitle mouse
entered into my troubled life.
Did she enter to spread some cheer
to move my fearful thoughts
away to places of hope so dear?

Then I wondered all the more,
Why was I here in this place of woe?
Did I do something so very bad
that punishment was needed to change my path?

The hymn she sang was one of love.
The tune was light
lifting my spirits high above.
Then I knew why I was here
to learn how a little mouse
can spread in a troubled life
the cheer needed to survive.

Eddie

On a lonely day in a lonely place
I sat down to a meal.
There I met a gentleman
whose smile drew me like a bright tune.

The man was old, hearing impaired,
intelligent, wise and quick of mind.
I knew he lived a long long life
I listened as he spoke.

He told of a life of grief and good times
of fear and facing death in war
when he was a youth.
He talked of the loss of his first wife
and a child, a boy so dear.
There were other children who lost their way,
the hurt caused furrows above his eyes.
He praised his present wife of many years
who cared for him so well.

He spoke about his accomplishments,
the pride was in his voice,
of working steadily all his life
of loyalty, what was right.
He didn't understand where
all these values have disappeared.

But most of all he talked about
a little dog he loved
small enough to fit his lap
and snuggle under his arm.
His pleasure brightened the dreary room

And then we talked of facing death,
of being tired of holding on.
The fear and strange attraction death brings
as age creaps up our spine.
Some small things that holds us here,
keeps us hanging to a thread
such as a little dog, whose love
gives such cherished need.

Paul

My Lady

Nutmeg brown the color of her eyes,
Silver-black her hair
a smile that opens like a rose
greeting the morning air.
A blossom slowly opening
on a century plant.
A river of bluebells with
a forest for its banks.

A chipmunk shyly peaking out
ready to scamper under the leaves,
or a couple of squirrels
on the ground searching for their burried food
worried about losing what they have,
in constant motion to feed their brood.

Waves lapping on the shore
smooting jagged pieces of stone
like water flowing over a cliff
forming its cup in the rock below
creating a basin of foam.

Or a Grandfather Clock in a hall
ordering time by its pedulum swing,
never stopping its persistent march
to never ending dreams.

Constantly thinking of ways to please
like getting a kiss from a springtime breeze.
Catching fireflies on a summer night to place in a jar
watching the eerie green light.

These images and memories past
are brought to life by her acts
of kindness and generosity.

P.J. Wolf

The Robbin's Song

Each spring I listen
for the Robin’s song,
hoping and straining
to hear it’s unique trill
which lifts my spirit,
renews my will.

When I was a young man
walking the woods
listening to the sparrows
squawking in the bush,
watching the cardinals
flit in the snowy brush
singing their songs in the
morning’s blush.

It was the Robin’s song
that said winter is past,
spring would be here
with its color and warmth.
I never forgot how pleasing it was.

Through the years of worry and work
when doubts of survival touched my soul,
never knowing what madness the day would bring
I listened for spring and the Robin to sing.

Like a horse that’s burdened
with a wagon’s load,
plowing ahead step by step,
never knowing when it will end,
expecting the rights to become wrong,
listening then to the Robin’s song.

When nature took the good things away
leaving of life an empty loft,
nothing existed that brightened the day
and darkness settled into my bones.
I remember what I learned
when walking as a young man
listening to the Robin’s song
until the sadness fades away.

P. J. Wolf

Treasures


Today I stopped to watch
a squirrel scurry from tree to tree
carrying acorns in its mouth
burying them in a squirrel pantry.

Its coat fluffy with winter fur
intent upon its work;
driven for what was needed
to live through cold and snow.

Looking around I see the earth
bedding down for the frosted months,
brown and grey with little green,
waiting for its coat of white.

The wind picks up, the rain begins.
Hurrying toward my warm home,
I think about the dark days
during winter’s blast, bone chilling cold.

Wondering whether it will be
a long and dreaded interval
before the crocuses raise their heads
through the melting snow.

When did I lose
the joy of looking at winter’s fare
full of fun, sledding down hills,
snowball fights and snowmen?

Those buried treasures of my youth
never to be lived again,
except deep in my memory
waiting patiently for new birth.

P. J. Wolf

The Baby-Sitter

I sit in a quiet house
Darkened in the middle of the day.
My grandchild asleep on a couch
A cat asleep at her feet.
I sit alone with my thoughts
To keep me company.

Time passes slowly as I watch
Looking at her, I question
How beauty can embrace peace
Which before was stormy action
How quickly it can change.

I wonder if this beautiful child
Will find a future filled with love
Long past the time I'll be gone.
Will I be able to see her then
Watching over her from a place
I believe exists, but cannot know.

At this moment I wish I could live
As long as she, protecting her
A wish I know cannot be.
But then, maybe it can,
I'll never know while I'm alive.
That can wait, I'm happy here.

P.J.Wolf

Questions

Years ago when I was young, I drank the doctrine taught to me.
Many ideas to read and learn, I sought them out more and more
A thirst I am proud to own.
Facts and theories about creation, The universte and all within,
Plants, Animals, man, Divinity, the hardest to comprehend.
The older I grew the more I studied The more I wondered
What we really understood. Who is this God? What is his creaton?
What does it mean to me? How can I reach my destination?

Now I am past all those years When questions stirred within.
I have learned to quiet them, Living now in peace.

I have done what I could To follow my beliefs.
Not always, Nor somethines with a perfect heart.
But then, I am just a man.

For all of this the one belief, That gives me comfort in the end
God will forgive for he loves me
Just the way I am.

P.J.Wolf