Hope
The Notebook
Click for meditationRegarding "The Notebook"
The most important thing I do
Every day is to write.
It is my life. It is my balm.
It is peaceful. It is
The one dependable
Action I take which is sure
Any raging waters
To calm. It is a gift to me.
Unmerited. It casts
A fence around me as
If I was reclined in the sweet
Sheepfold of Psalm 23.
It could even be
Viewed as my version
Of the Kingdom of Heaven,
That blessed seed
Bestowed within each of us,
Which has the
Potential to leaven into
A majestic, flowering tree.
Leo Carroll
October 2, 2018
Would this notebook
Be able to keep me afloat in
A raging sea, its paper,
Once wood, a life
Preserver’s giving me
Buoyancy, or,
Would last sight of
Me be with an arm
Raised high, notebook
Held up to the last,
And then down,
Down deep, gone,
Below the waves and
Into the vast…?
Daydream
Click for meditationRegarding "Daydream"
One day I had a
Daydream about a small, glass
Milk bottle being placed
Against my front door,
And within it was the lone stalk
Of a flower, cocked
At a casual angle,
Simply done, but
Wonderful and welcome.
I’ve often wondered
Who placed that
Flower in a bottle?
It was such a generous
And kind thing to do,
Even if it was an invention
Of my mind, and the
Intent was only to lift my
Fictional mood…
Leo Carroll
August 12, 2018
A flower once
Stood at the outside of
My doorway, a
Lone stalk cocked
At an angle
In a simple glass
Bottle.
Who picked this
Flower and with care
Placed it there?
That remains known
To only the
Flower in the
Bottle…
The Muse
Click for meditationRegarding "The Muse"
Effortlessly
My eyes lift, drawn
Mysteriously
To a mythical, desert
Mesa, sandy-
Reddish,
Where sits
Stoically an
Indian maiden
In Pueblo dress,
Eternally watching for
Me it seems,
As if she felt
My gaze, and knew I
Was waiting yet
Again for her
To release the words
Within me born
To live.
Leo Carroll
July 17, 2018
“Find me,” comes
A quiet, whispered
Voice, female
In its sound, longing
In the depths of
A wispy, far-distant
Thesaurus…
“Find me,” and
So up the high-desert
Plain my eyes
Lift, and there on
The mesa, in
Pueblo cloth, an
Indian maiden
Sits…
Winter Resurrection
Click for meditationRegarding "Winter Resurrection"
On a cold, cold February
Day on Plum Island,
When to hold onto a pen in my
Fingers was almost too
Difficult, and on the entire
Expanse of the beach
There was not one other
Person to be seen, the waves
Continued to pound in
All their glory…as
If oblivious to all else…
And so I knew then
I could write, too…
Despite all else.
Leo Carroll
April 16, 2018
It was too cold to put
My toes into the
Water, but not too cold
For poetry, so a
Steel-blue surf gave
Way to my words, and
Into the depths
I plunged unhurt.
Releasing
Click for meditationRegarding "Releasing"
This poem is a
Metaphor for when one of my
Daughters was getting
Ready to relocate
To New York City to
Pursue the next
Phase of her life.
What a wonderful and
Thoughtful daughter she
Had been, and still is…
At the time, I was filled with
All sorts of strong
Emotions, as I realized she
Was leaving the home for good.
In a way, it was as if I
Was reliving the emotions of
Teyve, the father of
Five daughters in
Imperial Russia, in the
Great movie and Broadway play,
“Fiddler on the Roof.”
All had been done
To raise my daughter, but
In my mind she still
Danced and twirled as
A small girl…
But now it was
Time to let her go…
Releasing is never easy.
It can be painful
And very sad, but life
Has to continue in its fragile
Form and flight, like a
‘Julia Longwing’ butterfly
Lifting off from cupped hands,
And then watching its
Loving climb…
Leo Carroll
May 30, 2018
Good-bye, my butterfly,
My hands are cupped to lift your ride.
Bye-bye, my butterfly,
My eyes are raised to watch your climb.
Good-bye, my butterfly,
Lo may you land ‘neath loving sky.