Tuesday, June 24, 2014

I'll Remember Him

Standing in his orchard,
pants hiked up,
sweat soaking his tucked-in button down beige work shirt.
A large, exaggerated, windmill of a wave,
and matching smile
as I hear him holler,
"Hiya!".
Standing in front of his brush pile.
His hat casts the shade of a maple,
and his stride has the length
and strength of the same tree's roots.
His limbs wave me in,
and we spend the afternoon picking up sticks.

We finish up,
as I start walking home we agree to meet for dinner.
All cleaned up, I hop on my bike
and pedal back over,
careful to not work up a sweat.
He's now sitting on his patio,
scotch in hand,
Merthiolate highlighting his nicks and scrapes,
he stirs his ice with his fingertips
and poises his index finger and thumb
to retrieve an olive at the bottom of his glass,
and reminds me of what a golden day it is.

He sets his drink down
and walks me to his basketball hoop.
"10 free throws before dinner."
No argument,
I'd shoot 20.

Dinner's ready.
My hands are dirty,
we take a detour to the bathroom
and he brings out the "fingernail brush".
I lather my hands,
he takes the brush
and with firm, short strokes
aims to take the day's work
out from under my nails for me.
Instead,
I giggle uncontrollably.



Jordan R Shaver 06.24.2014

Thursday, June 19, 2014

To Be Such A Man

A man much more than I.
To have discipline and control
despite gallons sloshing
and swerving the mind when full.
To consider yourself as a valuable member of a team;
a team named "Humanity"
and to be one that does good
and helps those who wouldn't do the same for you.
And to be seen as a man more than capable,
with a reputation of good character.
There is the folly with my faults,
so visible.
All so miserable and extreme and it's hard
to say who I have been.
But everyday I wake with my mind thinking
of nothing I'd like to take,
but give of my myself and make this world
somehow a better place.
Which is hard when the stage shines bright,
and the cameras all align
and point to my decisions,
not all of which have been right.
And in the thickness of the darkness of night
it amplifies my errors under the circling
incandescent white,
and my morning prayer of work and service and love is lost.

And to be such a man,
children of today,
be more than I.
Or take my prayers and let them apply to
your own life and the lives of those around you.
But don't let the night shine it's sobered
lights upon your moments of manifesting thoughts,
unclean.
Rather stay in and sleep and aim your
dreams toward morning where thoughts of
working toward a better world will always
gleam.

Jordan R Shaver 6.16.2014

Friday, June 13, 2014

Go Home

If you've found yourself out in the hustle and bustle again,
and your new boots now have a scuff in 'em
that can never be buffed or erased,
but the ones that rustle in your shiny new bag
really have no place in your home.
And you know they surely won't fit in your closet
- but you deal with the whirling cars and lights
and strange smells and passive aggressive fights
and at that moment all signs read "you have to have it, it's your right."
But you don't.
So just go home.

Do you remember your stool at grandma's house?
The one she'd pull out
so your little arms could knead the dough
and line the pan
and keep you out of harm and close to gram?
That happened for a reason.
So why are you out eating at a place with an invisible chef
and the food on the menu magically appears
and in seconds it's in you?
Carry those fond memories in a paper bag,
get enough for more than one day
and lay them out.
Keep handy a rag
just in case you too have an extra set of little hands
propped up on a stool
reaching for the sink to be cleaned.
Home is beckoning.

"But," you say, "I don't know how to make it just right,
which way to place the sink and cabinets and colors of stain.
Which floors and faucets and fixtures?
It all seems like such a pain."
Until that day
when your groceries are put away,
and your counters get center stage
for that pie you actually enjoyed to bake.
And your friends stand and talk
- and they stay.
And your kitchen finds it's rhythm as the heart of your place.

And the next time the impulse to run out for sandals or boots, or a burger, or a bagel,
take it slow and make sure to keep your keys in your kitchen right next to your phone.
You'll smile as you say,
"I have what I want, nothing more
 - I'll just stay home."


Jordan R Shaver 02.27.2014

Saturday, June 7, 2014

An Excerpt Of An Elegy That I May Or May Not Ever Have To Read

I squeeze our memories
from the pulp of my mind,
and let them roll down the back of my neck,
absorbing into the hard spots of my heart.

And the more I nourish my heart
with the sweetness of thoughts of our time together
it swells with emotion.

I let them continue to flood.
Sitting at my desk,
my hands on my head,
I wait to burst.

Jordan R Shaver 6.7.2014