(no subject)

[ellyssian]

35 Years Ago (1969): I was under 1 year of age, but older than my youngest son (who is currently curled up in my left arm and snoring loudly) is at the moment. I am fairly sure I was planning great plans and inventing great inventions, however I can't seem to recall any of them at the moment.

30 Years Ago (1974): I'm sure I was listening to Kiss, possibly planning my own band with a neighbor and my brother. As usual, that would leave us without a drummer and/or singer.

25 Years Ago (1979): Most likely still listening to Kiss, and looking forward to the Grand Canyon trip one year hence - where I would be brainwashed by weeks of driving with only an AM radio, which only tuned in country music stations. The Dark Ages were looming!

20 Years Ago (1984): Dark ages over, high school in progress, sophomore year specifically. Remarkably enough, it is Kiss that bring me back to the light, and soon I learn of other rock bands. Still in the Air Force Jr. ROTC. I will be the commander before the year is over. In the year following, there will be a rebellion, as the seniors can't comprehend that a junior is their senior, as it were, and I learn a valuable lesson. Orders aren't always followed, and the chain-of-command is sometimes circumvented. I accept this lesson and decide a military career is not for me. Also, they won't let me fly fighter jets because I need corrective lenses.

15 Years Ago (1989):Mere days before, I wrote this little gem, the 45th in my official canon:

The Mistrial
November 9, 1989

{ A Song About One Falsely Accused Of Witchcraft }

Hanging by a thread of reason in this Puritan madness,
I scream to gods I don't believe in.
Rope around my throat, I feel it tighten, as I gasp for breath
I pray.

Accused and sentenced, I, the doomed one,
I hang from a tree, not even to die in peace.
Asked for one wish to be granted, my time denied,
Hope for some wisdom in the Judge's ancient eyes.

By your neck you will hang until your last breath escapes.
No, no, no.

My last thought oblivion I try to ignore the scene,
It fills my mind, intensity overwhelming.
With every move, I strain to get free, yet the rope only tightens.
Still, at my feet, I feel the burning fire, soon my funeral pyre.

I look all around me as my last breath fades to the night,
The foul winds kiss me goodbye and they laugh.
Peasants, not mindless, yet they believe all the lies,
A horde to sweep me to this high hill on the edge of life.

If only I had the power,
Surely I'd not die here on this fateful night.

Copyright © 1989 Everett A Warren

I am in the midst of a relationship with a creature who will eventually have her boyfriend threaten me in the name of a leader of an organized crime group in the area. I am, at this very time, aware that things will not go smoothly and I am dreading what will happen. She will ensure that I can never watch movies such as Fatal Attraction.

On the other hand, she was good in bed.

10 Years Ago (1994): I am married, and I have a two year old son. All is not well, though, as in a few days I will write:

cascade
November 18, 1994

it is time
to fall once more
the endless decline
of dreams faded

with love i hoped to cling
to the tatters of our lives
but love is not enough
when it is held by one alone

hopes can be reconciled
but reality is not hope made flesh
and so we are caught in this dark cascade

Copyright © 1994 Everett A Warren

5 Years Ago (1999): I now have a daughter who is almost two. Obviously, the sequence of important events in my life - and my children are the most important of them - seems to miss the 5 year cycle this covers. I have uprooted from Massachusetts, and reside in Pennsylvania, and I am working as a programmer at the same company I am still employed with. In a few weeks, I will write one of my favourite holiday cards:

winterstream
November 19, 1999

-- Holiday Card 1999 --

silent
dreaming
cold
clear
flowing
immersing
splashing
making magickal
crests of ice
edgertonian
impossible cliffs
curving
shining
shimmering
encapsulating
branches dipped low
drinking
icicle coating
chiming
in whistling wind
and rippling waters
cascading
singing
songs of cheer, thoughtfulness, and meditation
songs of peace, love, and happiness
so that we might remain
for precious moments
awash in solitude
dreaming
silent

Copyright © 1999 Everett A Warren

1 Year Ago:Alas, no poems were written during 2003 November, so you are spared... however, by this point I have composed approximately 350 poems. We are in our sixth month living in a house we own, in a forest. And I am expecting, any day now, my first shipment of additional trees to plant.

Yesterday:Work, of course. I attended the Poetry Circle at the Moravian Bookshop (second Friday of every month!), and read a number of works I've written over the past month. In my most prolific year yet, the count of poems in "A Work Forever in Progress" is now approximately 450.

Today:Although I intended to write some today, but I've spent most of it getting my youngest son to giggle, or, as now, holding him as he snores. Also managed to plant almost 70 bulbs for naturalizing in the yard, and to finish off the last of the propane for a final barbecue.

Tomorrow:Sleep, and hopefully getting blood pressure back to normal. Maybe a poem, who knows! With all the popularity of Alexander the Great these days, I may get back to my novel-in-progress

In the Future:Write stuff. Play with kids. Plant more trees. Business as usual, I suppose.