Mood
Snapdragons at First Frost
Click for meditationRegarding "Snapdragons at First Frost"
The snapdragon is my favorite
Flower. It is both fragile
And gentle in appearance, but
Very hardy, lasting even
Into December.
When I saw a bunch of
Magenta-colored
Snapdragons
Brimming with the
Crystals of the
Season’s first frost,
They were surrounded
By bright orange
And yellow marigolds
Posed like sentinels,
Themselves
Maybe the plainest
Of flowers, but
In my mind the most
Consistent and
Reliable…On that
Frosty morning, it seemed
Like Beauty was
Being guarded by
Duty, and Duty was
Being blessed by
Beauty. My mood was
Snatched from
Winter, and made
To contemplate what I
Was meant to see
In autumn.
Leo Carroll
April 26, 2018
They stand so stoically,
Seemingly silent against the cold, but
Warm against my chest they are,
And cradled by loyal marigolds…
They stand resilient, resolute,
As if still residing in kind
Summer, but it is winter
Which lives in my heart, and
I thank Creation for the magenta of
Their autumn saving color.
Climbing Meg’s Mountain
Click for meditationRegarding "Climbing Meg’s Mountain"
This poem was written
Less than 12 months after I had joined
A new health club in the town where I lived, and
It also coincided with a period in my life
When I was in need of rejuvenation. I found myself
Taking part in my first-ever, spinning ‘Pedal to End Cancer’
Fundraiser. The lead instructor for the three hour
Ride was a whirling dervish, who took us on
A very intensive, cardio-demanding,
Simulated mountain climb, all to the
Pulsating sounds and cadence of great music. For
One straight hour she pounded us with
An endless barrage of merciless
Spinning commands and exhortations,
Which appeared to have no end to them…
She seemed oblivious to any and all
Difficulties we had keeping up with her!
It was our job to do what we had
To do! As part of completing that
Strenuous, wild ride, I was also
Reminded of the tremendous challenges
Occurring in the lives of other people,
Particularly with respect to cancer. And so
Today, right now, I look back with so
Much gratitude to that first ‘Pedal to End
Cancer’ experience, and I thank that
Spinning instructor for helping to lift me up
Out of myself, and for enabling me to
See that if cancer survivors could endure
Years, even decades, of debilitating
Treatment just to live one more day, then
I could do a mere three hour ride, and I could
Express gratitude for what I had received
As blessings in my life.
Leo Carroll
March 5, 2019
“Pump it!…, Push it!…”
“Keep back in your saddle!…”
“Keep your peddle strokes
Even and smooth!…”
“We’re going to do ‘jumps’
To the count of two – – up!…, up!…, up!…”
“We have a double chorus!!!…”
“Slide!…, Slide!…, Slide!…”
“Down to hand position three!…”
“Keep your elbows loose and relaxed,
And tucked into your body!…”
“Back in lohhhhwww!!!…”
“Keep working, keep working!…,
Watch your cadence!…”
.
.
.
…And thus on and on and without mercy, her
Commands continue and cascade and escalate, one upon the other,
Relentless, unyielding, pounding, driving me into the ground, and I know on this
Sunday morning that any mountain, this mountain, can be climbed
With the exhortation and aid of this endless
Fusillade from a ponytailed woman in the female form of an
Absolutely whirling tornado, and all I have
To do is “pump it”, and any doubt and despair can
Be conquered by my spinning flywheel, and cancer can
Inexorably be crushed and tossed into the fathomless dustbin
With its twin gargoyles of terror and fear.
Doing a ‘Standing Climb’ up the Mountain of Hope
Click for meditationRegarding "Doing a ‘Standing Climb’ up the Mountain of Hope"
What exhilaration and
Jubilation when I first started doing
Spinning classes! It was as
If I had climbed a mountain and
Was looking down upon
All that was good and pure in human
Nature and its connections…
The people I met in
Spinning class were
Remarkable, and their
Energy and enthusiasm
Were contagious.
I couldn’t believe how
Happy I felt when spinning, and,
To this day, the euphoria
Of spinning is a metaphor
For the good things
Along my life’s journey.
In the poem, the
Imagery is of standing
Up on the pedals
With the hands forward
On the top of the handlebars,
And of climbing a steep
Mountain trail or grade – a
Very difficult task, unless
You have hope and
Confidence and the
Support of those cycling
Around you…
Leo Carroll
April 25, 2018
Lifted up I am, resurrected,
By the spiral of a spinning flywheel.
Circular in shape, its chrome
Whirs and whirs, as if its
Metal was flesh and
Its flesh was real. It
Carries me nowhere, but
Mystically everywhere, on the
Stationary magic carpet of
My deepest hopes and dreams,
And there, there, once
There like a kite I climb,
And can only be caught by the
Whoosh of a steep grade’s
Mountain breeze.
Ode to Walden Pond
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Walden Pond"
This poem attempts to
Explain the profound meaning of
Walden Pond to me.
But my words fail!
My feelings on this subject
Far surpass the ability
Of my verse to
Convey them, and,
Honestly, probably
Always will fall short…
Everything about
Walden – the
Chameleon colors
Of its waters,
The changing moods
Of its seasons
As seen in the
Overhanging leaves,
The warmth of
Its late spring and
Summer and early
Autumn waters, its
Mystical depths
And fathoms, always
Mysteriously
Rising and falling,
Its stone steps for
Sitting and remembering…
These all overwhelm
Me…and simultaneously
Both draw me to
Walden Pond and caution
Me not to get too
Close — lest I turn into a
Pillar of salt, like once
Betook Lot’s wife.
Leo Carroll
October 29, 2018
I am told your colors
Blend blue and green, but I
Choose olivine, and
See your hue as if tinted
Like an earring.
I am told your seasons
In rhythm move from mood
To mood, but I choose
Autumn, and call its
Peace, “maple solitude”
I am told your waters
Can vary in their heights and
Depths, but I choose
The level which best
Reveals your stone steps.
Passing
Click for meditationRegarding "Passing"
We often never know why
We meet someone, especially if the
Encounter was for what turned out to be
A literal second … Sometimes the
Meeting evolves into lasting
A lifetime, sometimes far less or
Seemingly not at all …
This is a mystery, and in
My opinion is related to the
Pilgrim’s path which we are all on.
We sometimes will
Never know why someone
Crossed our path,
While other times it will
Seem very self-evident. In
All cases, however, whomever
We have met in life, at
That fleeting second we have
Breathed the same air
With them, and the
Interaction imperceptibly
Affected the path we
And they were on. For a good
Part of my life I was oblivious to this.
Now, every time I walk into
Dunkin’ Donuts or a food store
Or some pharmacy or pull
Over into a service station for
Gasoline, I am much more aware of
My surroundings. Invariably,
There is someone I exchange a
Smile with, nod at, or
Have a brief conversation
With. I am there for them.
They are there for me.
And then we part, sometimes
Like a shooting star, sometimes
Like a floating, beautiful
Monarch butterfly.
Leo Carroll
January 22, 2019
I tried to
Think of a poem to
Send you, but my mind got lost in
Rolling banks of sentimental mist … and
So all I am able is to forward you
My very best wishes
Forever upon a sister star, as our
Galaxies now shriek past one
Another on polar-opposite paths, streaking
From that brief interlude where we
Once stood a sweet beach, but now due to the
Physics of warp speed —
So strangely afar.