Thursday, March 01, 2018

On his 60th birthday, poems by my brother David

David L. Walton passed away in late August 2012. He is with his Savior now and I’m sure so happy. Here are some of his shorter perplexing and not so perplexing poems. There are some that are many, many pages, but I won’t be transcribing those here. Happy would be 60th birthday, David!
 
Imagery
Thing flashing through
Making something where nothing is…
Imagery.

Bits and pieces
All came together
About the formation
That is the jig-saw puzzle
Around this creation of thought.

Throughout the wake
Formed in disturbances
To the image-pools
Droplets of ideas
Breaking free…
Recoalescing into the pools new images

A new creation-----
Imagery.





The Walton Paraphrase of Desiderata
Go quietly, speak clearly, and listen faithfully.
Don’t compare for you can’t change what you are.
Pay care to yourself, be cautious, look for virtue.
Be yourself, be real, don’t be cynical about love.
Learn from the years, grow in spirit, let imaginings not affect you.
Be flexible, admit your limitations, things are working out as
planned, be at peace with the planner.
Be at peace with yourself, the world is still a beautiful place,
Work to realize your potential and the joy of its realization.

Photo of David taken by Elanna Bat Levi-Ya'acov in her kitchen.



Can’t Play But I Can Sing
Fun it is to me
Not to play
But to sing

Seems so weird to me
In these days
Where everyone plays and sings
I just like to sing
Don’t know how what to play
But I’ll sing the blues




Paradise: The Ideal
Paradise the place of eternal bliss
The place where souls can exist
In serene peacefulness.

Yet not have to reminisce
Of olden days of long ago
But live in joy
Of tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow.

But reasons for their
Being there were not
Safe life and limb
Or just because
They’re them.

Tragedy, troubles, sorrow,
And suffering
Are reasons why
They be in Paradise.

Enduring pleasure
For all eternity,
They found the key
The answer to life
Twas living, abiding in Christ.
Taking, accepting, and living
Through Him forever
This is Life.

But on to the gayes.
Things of Paradise above
Of golden auras
And the like
That’s never seen
Of pace serene.

There is an ideal
Of what Paradise
Should be like.

But it is much
Like a garden land
Of lamb and lion
Hand in hand.

Perhaps like earth
I do not know
Except no war
Or want of more.
No hell on earth
Or impure soul.

A Utopia
Never filled
Light and peace
Abundance too
All for me
And you and you.

Tis’ true
One can’t
Earn his way
To Paradise someday.

I cannot hope
To comprehend
Or understand
This celestial thing, Paradise.

That man may
Dream and some
May dwell
Like someday
Some souls will.

And hope

And pray
And someday win
The weak bottle
Of weak men.

Of cleansing
Of that soul
Of mine.

Coming to
That lofty plane
Come to Paradise
Once again.





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