Verses In Contemplation

By Frank M. Highley, Jr.

A collection of verses on a variety of subjects written between the years 1977 and 2013.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483418308

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Jr.

Copyright © 2014 Frank M. Highley, Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-1831-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-1830-8 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 11/18/2014

Contents

Preface

Comment

Tell Them They Were Brave

Things Past

Contemplation

Forward In Time

Silent Wings

Thanks

Evening Lament

Morning Brightness

Contemplation Again

Future Generations

The Gem

Gathering

The Garden

Unhindered

Cars

Views

Porch

Rain

Deep

E. R.

Past

Oversight

Involvement

Illusion

Connections

Dreams

Rescue

Why

Exposition

Floyd

Leaving

Desperado

Results

No Rain

Friendship

Two-winger

Home

Family

Battle Lost

Bivouac

Abandonment

Expressions

Protest

Unease

Adjustment

Understanding

Gone

Ending

Damn Dam

Storm

Lovers

Aloft

Fair Maiden

Trip

Marked

Returns

Christmas 2006

Phases

Measures

Quiet Rest

Remembered

Whimsy

Commemoration

Airmen

Rain Whistle

Closure

Wounded

Resting Place

Faith

Pine Tavern

Review

Prayer

Question

Aerodynamics and Us

Beast at Bay

Muse

News

Continuation

Entreaty

Gray

Catfish

Accident

Climbing

Fall

Away

Escape

Conviction

Railroads

Clarity

SURFERS

Morning

Pause

Preparation

Old House

Now

Tres

Intensity

Balance

Winter Waiting

Advice

Persevere

Morning Fog

Forest Outlook

Ice Storm

Soul Search

Edith

Memory

Storm Passing

Responsibility

Scarlet Tanager

Observations By A Young Man

Procrastination

Afterglow

Whistler

Dusk

A Man Talking To Himself

Forest Lost

No Answer

Awakening

Destinations

Picture in Time

Scribes

Thoughts

Peaceful Interlude

Inheritance

Last Seen

Words Spoken Quietly

Afterwards

A Place in Time

No One To Ask

Christmas Time

Seeking Wisdom

Transitions

Tracers

The Path

Tree In the Forest

Bill, Afterwards

Bob, Later On

Hard Time

Along The way

Cutting Edge

On The Way To The River

Being

Introspection

Reaching

Gone The Dream

To Elaine

Looking Out

The Listener

Morning Song

Evening Prayer

Go Back Again

Tree Down

Overlook

The Gun

Fall Leaves

Leaves Descending

Poster Painting

Approval

Tree In A Corner

Plea To Help

Ceremony

Christmas 2008

Tired Warrior

Fred the Red (Fox)

A.M.

P.M.

Day

Clouded

No One

Tomorrow

Theatre Called Folly

Last Ship

Shuttered

Joe and Bill

Snow Again

Inspiration

Nightfall

Listening

Remembrance

Mind Sets

Dust

Big Red

Fears

Considerations

Too Long

A Prayer

Christmas 2009

Drifting

Food Chain

Grey Rain

Airstrip

Book Ends

Last Landing

Round About

Waiting Place

Past Time

Spot on the Floor

Diesel Operations

Unobserved

Working the Problem

Background Colors

Shadow Image

Local Trip

Crow Walking Down the Street

Stuff

Trade - Off

Portrait

At Summer’s End

Home is Where The Heart Is

Delay

Black Birds Flocking

Modes of Poetry

False Faith

Preparing to Argue

Take Me With You

At Eventide

Roses Are Read

Satisfaction

Red Roses Glow In Morning Light

Rabbits On The Run

In Love

Last March

Late December - 2010

Nellie

1993 - 2011

Goals

Years

Green Grass

Rose Bud Emerging

With Time

Gloom

Sleep Walker

One-Eighty

Christmas 2011

Red Love Songs

Bleak Forest

Season’s End

Gray Rain

Hawk Flying

Doubting Thomases

On The Range

Day’s Ending

Friends

The Painting

Introspection Again

Twice Over

Unspoken

Beach Grass

Where is he now

Intent

Where Did They Go

Single Round

Thinker

Gray Geese Flying

Black on Blue

Sailing

Fire

Dream Keeper

Let Me Hear The Music

Time Remaining

Too Late to be Sorry

Storm Promise

Little Bill and the Two Dumplings

Rain Music

Enough

Natty

Soul

Indifference

Garden in Transition

Homeward Bound

Preface

This collection represents verses written between 1977 and the present, with most of them composed in 2006.

The writer makes no excuses for what has been done, but submits the following as a clarification.

Justification

They may say, with derision, "he’s mad, that guy is,

   as he sits and he writes all the day".

But they’ve never discovered his innermost bliss

   as he says what he wanted to say.

Acknowledgment

I greatly appreciate the contributions that my wife Edith has made to this collection through her efforts as critic, editor, proof reader, and most of all, enthusiast. Without her help, it would have been much less of an accomplishment. And, by the way, the mistakes are all mine.

FMHJr. August 2006

Further acknowledgment is made in appreciation of the extensive efforts of Edith Highley, Bruce Highley, Kim and Steve LaPaglia together with the staff of LuLu Publishing services to make this publication happen.

FMHJr. October 2014

Comment

   In his manifold frailty and ignorance

a man cheats and is cheated, hurts and is hurt

sometimes kills and only occasionally loves his fellowman.

   But in his final musings, most often he will say:

"It was a pretty good time, and a pretty good place,

and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it."

FMHJr. 1977

Tell Them They Were Brave

They died on the beaches, in the fields, and on the hills;

               Tell them they were brave.

They didn’t always know why they were there.

They heard their nation say that it must be,

   and so it seemed to boys and men, untutored and in doubt.

Other nation’s boys and men had fought and died and lost,

   and now would come the chance to make it right.

               Tell them they were brave.

Tell them that the things they knew as sacred must be kept.

Tell them others tried and couldn’t win.

Tell them that their mothers, fathers, wives, and sons and daughters

   yet unborn would have no lasting peace unless they fought.

Tell them that the fears and hate and agony must be;

That death would come to some and each would die a little.

Remind them of their cause and of the reasons that were said

   of why they fought and killed, and fell and bled and died.

               And tell them they were brave.

FMHJr. 1984

Things Past

All he could touch were the hard remains,

And all he could know was a lonely grief

For a past that was over, or never had been.

Hard in his hand the iron and the wood, and

High on the hill, the rock and the stone.

Windswept and rainswept the broken forms

Of an ancient wall and a tumbled tower,

Telling the place where men had been,

With their passions and fears,

Their loves and their doubts.

FMHJr. 1987

(Of Ireland)

Contemplation

God looks down upon this place

And sees the chaos wrought by man.

Man looks up, in hopes of grace

And asks, was all this in the plan?

                           *

As nature metes out God’s intent,

Adhering constantly to rule,

Man answers badly, often bent

On counter-measures sure to fail.

FMHJr. 1990

Forward In Time

The savants tell us, left alone

All matters fall in disarray.

But man, it seems, cannot condone

The pace of nature, day by day.

For as he tries, inspired by greed,

To find a better place to be,

The effort spent to meet the need

Usually boosts the entropy.

FMHJr. 1990

Silentwings.jpg

Silent Wings

They call them silent wings;

They are not silent.

They whisper, whistle, creak and crack,

   and sometimes even scream.

The sounds they make say where they are,

and tell of what they’re doing.

In moments of tranquility they slowly glide along,

   their only sound a hushed and whispered sigh.

In other, turbulent, times they shout of burdens that they bear,

   with harsher sounds that hint of how they’re made.

Of spars and ribs and paneled sheets, smoothly joined as one:

   functional in form, and beautiful to see.

Accepting loads, providing lift,

   and telling of their toil in airborne tones.

They seek the troubled air, these silent wings,

   looking for lift, and bending to the task.

While other craft pursue their different goals,

   remembering duties spoken on the ground,

   to go in plotted, measured flight,

   to ports of commerce far afield,

Furthering more comman goals of men.

The silent wings will speak of many things.

Of steady pull against the wind to heights of quick release.

Of tightening, turning paths that spiral upward in the sky,

   and long straight glides that never reach the ground.

Of earth below and darkened cloud above, its warning grayness

   limiting the path.

And finally, reluctantly, the patterned glide to earth,

   downwind, crosswind, upwind, slowly sinking.

Here comes again the whisper of those so-named silent wings,

   soon to be still and quiet on the ground.

A final drawnout sigh, a thump; and then those

   rolling, rattling sounds that come when wings no longer lift.

Soon this too ceases.

And only then the wings fulfill their naming.

Silent wings.

FMHJr. 1990

Thanks

Men pray to God and offer thanks for blessings new and old,

Their hopes arrayed in close accord to stay within the fold.

They ask for help, for health, for peace, for all their illnesses cured,

And freedom from the worldly cares they may have long endured.

But as they strive to comprehend the faith their systems preach,

They question if that God on high had something else to teach.

And with the lack of answers sure, with humbleness and care,

They answer with a simple faith, and say a simple prayer:

                  Thank you, Lord.

Some other sinners, less in doubt, will pray on bended knee,

Seeking foregiveness for their sins, and longing to be free,

Doing good deeds in hopes that these will help insure a place

In heaven, where a grateful God bestows his gift of grace.

And others yet may do good deeds, each conscience in accord

With knowing just that good was done, and seeking no reward.

And often, as each day goes by, they’ll know a quiet peace,

And once again, in thankfulness, their simple prayer repeat,

                  Thank you, Lord.

FMHJr. 6-4-05

Evening Lament

At the end of the day, when the earth slows down,

and the birds in the trees grow still

Comes a feeling of peace, a renewal of faith that

there are yet young dreams to fulfill.

But the time grows short, and an urging voice

reminds of past chances long gone,

When the days ahead seemed endless and bright,

rife with promise and challenge unborn.

So, heed me, Lord, and grant me peace,

not for deeds that fell short of the quest.

But simply for searching and seeking to know

The North from the South, and the East from the West.

FMHJr. 6-10-06

Morning Brightness

The morning glows, and the brightness falls

as patterned light on the garden trees,

All gold and green, in a hundred shades

as the sunlight gleams on a million leaves.

The bamboo grove stands tall and straight,

marking the place where the gardens join.

More friendly than stone, its shimmering mass

is a neighborly symbol of separate homes.

The roses in bloom, and the lilies in bud

lend color and life to the yard,

While the fence rails running across the back

make the forays of young deer more hard.

For it’s deer and rabbits and one red fox

who treat the land as their own,

With the squirrels and a groundhog vying for turf

midst the bushes and plants and the lawn.

Never the same, as each day goes by

and the sun, rain and wind play their part,

But always inspiring, remindful to all

that God’s nature keeps plying its art.

FMHJr. 6-12-06

Contemplation Again

We think of those days, long before we were born,

when the earth still looked young and untamed,

When the hills were still green and the towering trees

traced the courses of rivers unnamed.

Fewer people lived then, with more land for each one;

land for homesteads, for families, for life without want

For fields to be planted, lakes and rivers to fish,

All the benefits forests and prairies could grant.

So where did it go, all these riches bestowed

on a land and a people with manifold needs?

Why didn’t the spirit that saw it endowed

inspire the same spirited words, thoughts and deeds?

For the ages that followed saw famine and death

as war after war mirrored man’s futile climb

Toward a goal of more glory, a kingdom made rich

by the lives and the deaths of the innocent throng.

Or are we the innocent people we say

as we follow so closely that climb to the peak?

Have we compromised faith for an easier way

to reach the success that we evermore seek?

For whenever we judge other men, other times,

we should always ask what would we do,

If a similar circumstance forced us to choose

between two paths; one easy, one true.

As is proper, we end with a short simple prayer,

an admission of sins of our own,

Acts we cannot undo and can no longer change,

Faults, mistakes that we cannot condone.

So how shall we view this, the history we know