Musings: An Anthology of Verse

By F.M. Bonevento

Where is this I find me? How came I to this spot? Methinks it seems familiar, yet in truth I know it not. A door with curtained windows all aflutter on the breeze. A long and twisting staircase that spirals where it climbs. A niche, standing empty, where once a statue stood. A door leading to somewhere, but it wont open for me.

F. M. Bonevento has been on a poetic journey since 1980. In his second collection of poetry, he leads others through the musings of his mind, across time and space, people, and a variety of settings.

As he darts into spaces sometimes known and often unexpected, Bonevento casts a lyrical light on the sacred and the mundane as well as the mythic and the mind. While exploring themes such as myths and legends; the beauty of nature; faith and prayer; and the realm of dreams, ideas, and emotions, Bonevento invites others to reflect on his introspective perspectives while taking their own unique journeys through the mind to explore ideas and feelings about the world.

Musings shares a journey in verse created from one mans life experiences and reflections over a twenty-five-year period.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Nov 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480811492

F.M. Bonevento

F.M. Bonevento is a former senior software engineer and functional manager. He is the co-inventor of five computer hardware patents and is an expert in software engineering and project management. He is the author of Signs and Seasons of Love and Musings. He and his wife, Mary Ann, reside in Boca Raton, Florida.

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Copyright © 2014 F. M. Bonevento.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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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.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1150-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1148-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1149-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918645

Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/31/2014

Contents

Preface

Historical Allusions

The Quest

Roland’s Grave

Avalon

The Tale of Mary Ann

The Keep

The Sack of Illium

The Wizard

The Court

The Queen

The Battle

The Tower

Arthur’s Tale

The Palmer and The Rider

The Youth and The Maiden

William Wallace

The Tourney

The Knight’s Oath

The Shards of El Cid

Faith’s Voice

The Reading

Polars

The Resurrection

Bartimeous

An Epitaph

Taps

The Man in the Desert

The Garden Passage

Writing in The Sand

The Lepers

A Prayer

Morning Prayers

A Country Chapel

An Abbey

The Cross

The Beggar

A Prayer

An Inscription

Renew

Victory

An Epitaph

The Final Day

Death

My Angel

Eternity I Saw

The Bells

A Man of God

The Father’s Mansions

Be Not Afraid

The Song of Francis

Mercy

The Heroic

The Gift

Strangers

Nature’s Songs

A Forest Glade

The Clouds

The Puddle

A Tumbling Brook

A Brook

An Autumn Day

Autumn’s End

Twilight

Raindrops

The First Snowfall

Texas Wild Flowers

A Winter Journey

Night

A Gray Day

Twilight’s Flight

Night Sky

A Thunder Storm at Night

Reflections in a Pond

The City in Rain

The Seawall

A Ray of Sunlight

The Pond’s Looking Glass

Beyond A Bend

The Old Stone Wall

The Cave

The Dawn

A Bower

Sea Shore

A City Blizzard

An Oak

Stars

The Moon

The Anthem of the Sun

Fireflies

Old Mister Oak

A Winter Night

A Walk in the Rain

Reflections

The Crossroads of My Mind

Thoughts Alone

A Red Volume

Time

A Path Less Traveled

The Hexagon

Silent Music

Cycles

Sleep

A Face in the Glass

A Cry

Time

An Illusion

Visions in My Mind’s Eye

Memories

Where

Shadows

Promises

Bits of Glass

Conversations

Nothing Changes

Quiet Time

Where Is Tomorrow?

Common Denominator

Snow Starting

Lament Ye Well

My Sisters

Beloved

Infinity

Into Long Silence

Songs

The Spirit

Valuation

Remnants

The Wraith

A Stranger

The Rag Man

The Player

What is a Son?

Ozamunda

A Candle

Stonehenge

The Peddler

The Memories of Christmas

Grandma’s Christmas Tree

A Fifties’ Rangers Game

Parts

The Subway at Night

The Helmsman

Thoughts Alone

Memories

Roads

Echoes of Silence

Grand Ma

Christmas Time

Mary Ann at Christmas

Empty Heads

The Machines

For Mary Ann on Mother’s Day

Thoughts

Crows

Brooklyn Days

Dreams

Dreams

Nighttime Flights

Where is this?

Conversations

Dreams

Daydreams

Dreams Long Gone

Dream Time

What I Dream

The Place Where Dreams Are Made

Images

The Phantom

Xanadu

Dream’s Revelations

Wishes

Recalling Yesterday

Recalling

Recalling Her

Recalling

Roads Traversed

Snippets

Yesterday’s Tears

Moments

Yesterdays Make Me Cry

Yesterday’s Sounds

Sweet Recall

Snow with Her

Emotions

Angst

Anger

Fear

Tranquility

Sadness

Truest Love

Grief

Hope

Loneliness

Reverence

Disappointment

Anticipation

Satisfaction

Inspiration

Courage

Pride

Epilogue

For my Mary Ann

Your love is the inspiration of all here written. Come dearest, and sit awhile, let me tell thee of all I have seen, beyond the compass of our walls.

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Preface

Musings is my personal journey set in verse. It is my hope that it will take the reader across time and space, people, and settings. It deals with chivalry, battles, nature, and the sacred; with the rational and the mystical; with the mythic and the mundane; with the mind, the heart, and the realms of ideas and emotions, viewed as through a kaleidoscope of shifting colors and tints. It aims to cast its subjects in introspective perspectives. Its palette is pensive and sometimes passionate, inviting the reader to explore with the author on a journey of the mind.

The history of this work dates from the summer of 1980 when I wrote my first poem. Prior to that time, I had never written anything of this type. Suddenly, without prelude or consideration, verse seemed to arise at unexpected times and places. I found myself jotting down lines, often without pause or reflection.

This collection is titled Musings because it seemed to me that its existence is wholly based on the musings of my mind, as thoughts drifted and darted into spaces sometimes known and often unexpected.

Many times I had the feeling that the subjects and words were not my own, but rather just mine to record, as best I could. Sometimes I found myself recalling specific instances and images from my life, making a conscious effort to capture them. To me, these latter works were never as fluid or personally satisfying as those that just seemed to spring from my mind in completed form.

The topics and structure of this work was not preplanned; it all seemingly piled up of its own accord. Gathered in their current form, after years of accumulating dust in my desk drawers, I undertook the task of arranging them into some semblance of order, hoping they might bring enjoyment to others.

Here for your inspection and enjoyment is Musings.

F.M. Bonevento

January 2008

Historical Allusions

A selection of poems about a time of chivalry, honor, quests, battles, legends, romantic notions, kings, queens, heroic figures, and a dash of magic.

Impressions of times, places, people, and ideas passed away.

Distant, and yet still close to my heart and mind.

Pray excuse these humble offerings.

The Quest

I

Amid a cloud of swirling dust, a charger picks his way

While on his back there sits a knight, bedecked in mail of gray.

His lance askew, his shield held low, he makes a forlorn sight.

While peering west, he travels on, amid the failing light.

Neither maiden’s love nor blazing hearth will comfort him this night.

So pressing on he keeps to horse till stars have filled his sight.

II

He stops at last, to make his camp beneath a sagging oak.

Breaking fast, he dines alone, on fare of cheese and loaf.

From on his lap, a skin of wine he grasps to slake his thirst.

A soothing sip, to chase the dust, lodged deep within his throat.

III

The moon’s pale rays a halo casts, along the lonely road.

A silver thread amid the dark, a vigil light till dawn.

Now softly said, the nightly prayer that binds him to this quest:

"Before your feet, oh gentle Lord, I offer shield and lance.

I humbly beg to have the strength, to seek your Saving Cup.

Grant me the faith to keep my quest, although the road be long.

Guide my steps within your sight, until my journey ends.

Ignore my faults, for mercy’s sake, granting pardon for my sins.

Call me home, to heaven’s gate, where I will meet my fate."

IV

The dawn’s bright light calls forth the day, the sleeper now awakes.

His horse he tends, his armor borne, he faces this new day.

A winding road now calls him forth, to seek the sacred cup.

He never knows how far he’ll ride, or what awaits his fate.

A vow once made, must urge him on, upon the endless road.

Roland’s Grave

I

The Rider speaks:

Can you tell me, worthy sir, who sleeps in yonder grave?

Pray tell me it’s not Roland that tasted death so soon.

II

The Plowman speaks:

I fear that here you’ve found him, the object of your quest.

Of him I know but little, though legend here has said

He was a worthy gallant, who served his liegeman well.

Now there he lies so quiet, he molders in his grave.

His glory long has vanished, and no challenge can he take.

III

The Rider speaks:

Alas, how cruel our life is, he’s stolen from our sight.

Thus we lose our champion, whose virtues shined so bright.

Still sadder are the people who dwell within this dell,

For they know not of this hero, who championed them so well.

Nor of his noble virtues can any here now tell.

IV

The Plowman speaks:

Sir, you’re clearly troubled, that much is plain to see.

You seek the crown of glory, which knights of old did seek.

Yet can you truly tell me, what mattered all their pain?

What gained your noble worthy, whom death at last did claim?

He wears no crown of glory, as any fool can see.

Instead, like any wastrel, he rots ‘neath yonder tree.

So much is made of battles and the fame they bring to some,

But this I tell thee truly, such deeds were falsely done.

V

The Rider speaks:

Now at last I ken thee, oh man of this new age.

Your heed not honor’s calling, nor care for her crusades.

You think to win life’s favors by keeping close to home.

You’ll only sip of blandness, for in safety nothing’s gained.

Avalon

Where, pray tell, is Avalon?

How does one find the way?

Does it hide amid the mists, within the Lady’s lake?

Can one sail to Avalon to be where Arthur dwells?

Is it there that Merlin dwells, to serve his king so well?

If one comes to Avalon

Are the days still clear and fair?

Are the trees spun still in gold and green, amid the fairy dells?

Will I sleep in Avalon, bound fast in timeless spells?

To dream and see most wondrous sights,

Ever free from earthbound cares.

Alas, I seek old Avalon.

I’ve seen no bastions fair, I’ve scaled no lofty mountains

Though I’ve journeyed everywhere.

I’ve never felt its magic, nor slept within its spell.

Still I’ll seek old Avalon, a place that’s ever fair.

I fear it lies in legend, afar from mortal grasp.

The Tale of Mary Ann

I

In a far and distant kingdom, beyond the southern sea,

There dwelled a lovely princess whose tale I’ll tell to thee.

How I came to know it ‘tis something I’ll now tell.

I’ll share it with ye gladly, so attend and listen well.

II

‘Twas in the height of summer, in a very distant year,

That I first heard her story, and I wondered at its truth.

I sought out several wise men and the king’s own counselors three.

I asked them of the story, of the maiden beyond the sea.

Each told the self-same story, each spoke of beauty fair:

A maiden most chaste and charming, with silken, raven hair.

Though many knew the legend, few details could they tell,

Save only of her beauty, and the tales her suitors tell.

III

I vowed to see this lady, whose virtues tales did tell,

So I gathered up some garments and oiled my armor well.

I rode upon my charger, the trusty Don Miguel.

Thus I took to saddle, to see where she might dwell.

IV

Thence, upon a morrow, I met with palmers three.

They cried to me for mercy, for they had but naught, you see.

I knew that I must aid them, for it was a noble cause.

I stopped and shared my victuals, along this lonely road.

They blessed me for my