Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2017 05 24: Journal Post Page 7 May 24, 2017

Filed under: Devotion,Essay,Faith,Family,Life,Perception,Personal Challenge,Writing — DP Lyons @ 8:29 am

And yet another Wednesday comes screaming around the bend. Good morning everyone, and welcome back to my page a day journal blitz.

Hopes can build, and dreams can dash away at a moments notice. What we do with these moments in our time is key to what, or who we become. Dreams and hopes are a blessing during those troubling times. They provide comfort to a searching soul, optimism to a dampened heart and company to the lonely spirits.

I experienced such an impact from dreams and hopes in those trying days of 2010, and through it all, the opportunities that were handed to me greatly outweighed anything and everything.

This is page 7 taken from my journal. Written in spring 2011, the emotions were flowing as I wrote, and the experience was priceless.

I hope you all have a great Wednesday, and thanks for stopping by.
Deon

***

Page 7

The next few weeks were all but a blur as I fumbled my way around my new sightless land. I guess that in the back of my mind I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Not in the least. This fight would continue inside of me for some time to come. I have always been stubborn in my own right, and this was no exception. I didn’t like to lose control. I didn’t like to lose control of anything in my life, and this was pissing me off. I had no control over this.

I had dealt with giving up control of certain things in my life. I had learned how to let go, and let god with Alcoholics Anonymous. I had all of the tools stored away in my tool box, but I was having a hard time remembering how to open the damn box.

I did a lot of praying the next few days, weeks, months, and continue to talk to God on a regular basis. He and I have somewhat come to an agreement. I will let go, and He will guide me. Pretty simple, pretty safe, pretty uncomplicated. That’s what I needed back in those first few days and weeks, and it is what I need these days.

I’m not sure if it was the next week, or shortly after that, when I first heard the voice of a brand new guardian angel. Leona McKenna-Shea, who would become my VR Counselor from The Division of The Blind in Augusta. She called me up on the phone after talking with my folks in Florida. My dad had been relentless those first few days and weeks after my series of strokes. He had been on the phone with whomever he could in regards to me and my condition. Condition. Leona hates that term. Me too.

Dad had been in contact with Leona and she assured him that I would be ok. She knew what I was going through, and what I would go through. She was blind herself these past 13 years. She knew first hand what I was going through, and she had a plan. Boy did she ever have a plan.

I got a phone call from her one day, and somehow I could sense a calming sensation from her voice. It was immediately soothing to me, and made me feel as though I would be ok now that she was in my corner. She was definitely in my corner, to say the least.

I know and am quite aware that my destiny was in my hands, and that my actions determined my future. How I handled filling up the pages of my blank book was entirely up to me. I also know however that with her influence in the upcoming months, I would not be where I am today if not for her. No where even remotely close. She saw something in me that assured her that I had drive and determination to regain my life. Regain parts of my old life, and discover my new life.

The first day I met her I instantly was drawn to her personality. It was one of pure positive energy and influence. We talked and as she asked questions about me I felt so calm and relaxed. It was almost as if I had known her my whole life. I know what a corny cliché that is, but it is true.

She kept assuring me that I would be just fine, and that I shouldn’t worry about the particulars. There was only one thing I could control, and that was my attitude and determination.

She knew how I felt. She knew what I was worried about. She knew how dark and dreary my future seemed to me. She knew of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that wouldn’t go away. She knew all of it. She had been through it, and had come out the other side better than before. She made me feel as though I would do the same. She knew, and that was all I needed to know.

I got the sense after she left that Lynne felt the same way, and I was glad as hell.

The next few weeks, again, were a blur of emotions. Some days I felt as though I was on the edge, measuring for the jump. Other days I was just a limp rag with no hope of even getting out of my own way. It was hard. It was hard as hell, and I don’t know how I got through many of those days. I was a wreck, and I felt as though I was pulling my wife down with me.

I can’t even imagine what she was thinking those first few weeks and months. Half of her foundation, our foundation, had crumbled right before her eyes. It must have been devastating for her to say the least. I wanted to be able to continue to remain strong for her, but how in the hell could I? I felt as though this would surely be my demise. I felt that way a lot of the time. Some days I was ok. I seemed to be able to get through the day with relatively no problems. Unfortunately, there were those other days. Those were the longest of the days. Those were the days that seemed to never end. Those were the days when I thank God that I had Lynne with me. She helped me back up. She was my rock. She has always been. Through our relationship, there have been too many days that I wasn’t aware of this. Too many days indeed.

To be continued…

 

2017 05 14: Mother’s Day Poem May 14, 2017

Filed under: Childhood,Devotion,Faith,Family,Humility,Life,Love,Perception,Poem,Poetry,Writing — DP Lyons @ 12:32 pm

This poem is dedicated to my mom, Carol Jean Lyons, and to all the moms out there.
I hope your day is filled with wicked awesome mom stuff. grin

I love ya mom.
dp

***

Mother

Mother, oh mother, hear my pleading call
Shivering child from years ago stands before you
Grant me access to your warming heart
Calm my scattered spirit with your magical potion

I remember your words as I craved your touch
I remember your gentle kiss on my forehead
I remember wrapping my arms around you
I remember

Please sing me that same, soothing lullaby
Please rock me in your arms until I fall fast asleep
Please tell me everything will be alright
Please

Walk beside me as we brave the world
Walk beside me as I dare to dream
Walk beside me as your older boy discovers the unknown
Walk beside me

Promise me a handful of possibilities
Promise me of the love that awaits me
Promise me a family of my own
Promis me

Rescue me from a dastardly foe
Rescue me from an unrelenting obstacle course
Rescue me and whisperyour calming tone
Rescue me

Sing to me your praise as you stare into my eyes
Sing to me of the opportunity each day provides
Sing to me your anthem of faith, love and hope
Sing to me

Share your secrets with me
Guide me towards tomorrow
Pray for me as I do for you
Watch over me with confidence

Soothe my skipping heartbeat with your healing touch
Calm my worried gaze with your gentle touch
Release my anxious breath with a mother’s touch
Mother, Oh Mother

 

2017 05 08 Essay, Poem: Timepiece May 8, 2017

Hey everyone.

Something that I should have done right after finishing high school is to go to college. I didn’t go to college. Fact is, I dropped out of high school during my senior year. Yup. Fraid so.

I had a few distractions going on in my life back then. Man, was that back then. Damn near forty years ago. Anyway, I did manage to go to night school in my mid twenties, and after a little studying, coupled with a little testing, I was presented with my diploma. Holding that certificate in my hands was a weird feeling. It was as if I had finally caught up to where I was supposed to be.

Thirty something or so years later, I stepped onto the campus at KVCC. A much older man was I, and the visions I had were made up of unfamiliar and unexpected exhilaration.

I was met head on with so many variables that once again, it felt like I was trying to catch up. The powerful surges of electricity soon did catch up to me , and as the tides of excitement and inspiration rose in through the narrows, I realized that it was being harnessed and distributed from a group of four people who spent much of their day generating the source of motivation and inspiration, but they also had a very unique talent that enabled them to gather, enrich and redistribute that energy out into the student body that they represented, that they represent, that they will always strive to be a part of.

This post is dedicated to the cornerstone of my experience at KVCC. They are four of the most devoted individuals I have ever had the chance to work with, to look up to, to gain higher ground with. They are TRiO, and words will never be able to express my gratitude for how they have helped me, and how they have helped those who have walked towards them.

Lisa Black, Portland Wright, Michelle Gaines and Nick Runco. You are the four markers that represent a true path to achievement. I thank you all with as much humility and grace as I can.

Nicholas? You are my commander of text, my mentor of adventure, my guardian angel of digital motivation. Thank you sir, and thank you ladies for a source of inspiration that has reached out to so many.

The following poem is dedicated to you all, and in particular, Lisa Black. I haven’t had the chance to work with you, but from what I have heard from some of the other students, you, my dear, are a gift to those who cross your path.

The following poem is my attempt to describe what I have seen, heard, felt and experienced these past 2 years as a member of the TRiO program at KVCC.

Hats off to you four, and congratulations to those who will wear the caps and gowns this spring. It’s been an honor to walk the halls with you, and as I wish you all the very best, somehow, it’s fairly evident to me that this next chapter in your lives will bring you the experiences that dreams are made of.

Can you hear that? It’s a very reliable timepiece ticking away. It represents all of you, continuing to make your mark, continuing to create your future, one tick at a time.

Hats off to you all, and I gratefully accept your inspiration.

Deon

Timepiece

The semester is over
The classrooms are bare
Familiar sound drifts down the hall
A phone is heard ringing
At the North end of King
Someone quickly answers the call

Preparations have started
Plans have begun
New students are shown where to turn
Timid eyes gaze
At a welcoming smile
Inquisitive minds start to learn

With wide open eyes, a student begins
Affirmations of body and mind
KVCC TRiO quietly make their mark
A union like no other kind

A team stands waiting
A vision is cast
The students’ dreams are revealed
One by one
The yearning takes shape
A plan of success becomes sealed

New bonds are built
Friendships are born
Foundations are laid brick by brick
Weeks turn to months
Caps and gowns march by
As the timepiece continues to tick

Inspiration is born from where it began.
The tutor, the mentor, the friend
TRiO is formed from a vision of heart
A passion that time cannot bend

Dedicated to the incredible KVCC TRiO staff
Without your guidance, help and support, where would we be?

dp
Spring 2017

 

2017 04 30 Poetry: Soldier April 30, 2017

As the last day of the month casts its lengthening shadow across the scripted page, I am reminded that there are some things that I will never overlook.

Sitting here wondering what to write about, an image spun around inside my head of a man standing in front of a huge rolling machine. The image was of my nephew, 1st Sergeant Michael Lyons, 20 year retired US Marine. The picture was of him standing in front of a massive behemoth of a armored vehicle, which I think is called a Buffalo. There he stood on a road, in the desert, weighed down with body armor, full combat gear, and an M4 gun. As I gazed at the picture my older brother had sent, a rush of emotion ran up and down through me like a convoy on their way to Kuwait. I had never seen this nephew, this man, this soldier as he appeared in the image. His eyes were fixed, his look was determined, and one of his uncles wept a tear of honor and pride for the man, for the soldier, for the praise that I would never adequately find words for.

I am growing older by the day, this is for sure. The older I become, the more I realize how important our bravest men and women are, and how unselfish their sacrifice is, so that we might explore the possibilities afforded to us, by them.

I could go on and on with creative description with this post, but to what end? It would take me the rest of my life to find enough words to applaud their honor, make note of their bravery and admire their force of strength and might.

I had the chance to interview 1st Sergeant Lyons a few weeks ago for an assignment at school, and I was actually nervous, mostly because I wanted to ask him so many things, but had to narrow the questions down to what I thought was most relevant of a hero of mine. And oh what a hero of mine he is.

This is the last day of National Poetry Month, and as I reflect back on the past few weeks, I am very thankful that my path has crossed with you all, for it is a talented path that has joined me.

To the poets of the world, continue to make your music sing loud, for it is now, and will always be the music of a spirited soul.

Take care, and have a great month of May.

Deon

***

Soldier

Snapshot of a soldier, miles from home,
A mission on his mind.
Full heart beating in the desert sun,
Bravery of a special kind.

Stars and stripes sewn to his chest,
Worn with strength and pride.
Unfamiliar roads, a warrior’s quest,
His family by his side.

With freedom ringing in his ears,
He stares with hardened eyes.
Poised to take on any foe,
And protect the child that cries.

A snapshot of a man stared back at me.
I felt his beating heart.
I saw the strength within his eyes.
A strength that would never part.

The few, the proud, the man, the Marine,
The picture tells the tale.
Come home safely, brave soldier of ours,
Your honor shall prevail.

Dedicated to my nephew, United States Marine, 1st Sergeant Michael Lyons,
And all the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces.
God bless you all.

 

2017 04 29 Poetry: Road Map April 29, 2017

29 down, and 1 to go. Actually, many many more than 1 to go, because it feels like my writing is never finished, and there’s something else that I need to write about. Thousands of words, lines, sentences, phrases, thoughts, descriptions and meanings, all rolled into 7 years of hunting, finding and punching keys, and there’s still something I feel I need to write about.

I never dreamed I would reach the age I am. I never dreamed of being married. I never dreamed of having a child, a son and a grandson. I never thought. I just never.

We lost our power tonight, and I was right near the end of another poem I was going to submit tonight. Unfortunately, I didn’t save the stupid thing, and lost it with the outage, so, below you’ll find another one I just wrote. It’s quite a bit different than the first one, and try as I did, I couldn’t come close to remembering it.

I know, I know, a lot of you are shaking your head right now. Some are thinking what a fool am I, some are thinking about a similar experience, some are just wondering when I’m gonna stop rambling and get on with the poetry.

No matter what the lessons are that we learn, life continues to chug along at a pretty good clip, and that ain’t the half of it.

Ok then. Right. Here we go with my 29th submission for this National Poetry Month. This is actually only my 27th submission, as I skipped two days. Like I told a good friend, I’m still batting over 900, which ain’t too bad in baseball terms.

And away we go! Happy Saturday night to you all, and whatever happens, don’t you ever stop writing.

Best to you all.

Deon

***

Road Map

There’s a road map sketched in my mind,
Taking me to places I’ve already been,
Taking me to places I have already seen,
Taking me to places I will never let go.

There’s a song playing in my mind,
Singing to me a childhood lullaby,
Singing to me some old time rock & roll,
Singing to me some folksy blues.

There are pages turning in my mind,
Reading out loud about a shy, timid little boy,
Reading to me about an unexpected love story,
Reading to me about an incredible non fiction drama.

There’s a movie playing in my mind,
Showing a classic that I can watch again and again,
Showing me an unforgettable theme,
Showing me a fascinating 3D epic drama.

There is an image collage displaying in my mind,
Picturing a life changing gears,
Picturing a life changing lanes,
Picturing a life unfolding a worn and tattered road map.

 

2017 04 26 Poetry: The Gift April 26, 2017

26 days have passed this month of April, and as the feathered flyers make their furied trek north, the buds on the trees yawn and begin to stretch awake.

I love the spring, except for mud season. It really is an amazing time of year as it all starts to wake up from the frozen grips of the old man of winter.

Sometimes the natural gifts are overlooked. I remember each spring, when I would notice a different flowering bush, color of a flower, shades of new leaves, and of course the smells of the first lawn being mowed. That smell, most of all, reminded me of baseball, which I seemed to live for as a youth.

Things come to us in many different ways. Some we have to fight for, some we have to work for, and some just seem to fall in our lap. The ones that matter the most are those things you need to work for and fight for with the fierceness that the warriors were known for. It’s all about the goals, and the journey towards those goals.

Enough rambling from me. This is my submission for this, the 26th day of National Poetry Month, and don’t look now, but the 27th is clicking its heels and heading for Kansas, or New Mexico, or perhaps even Maine?

We’ll have to wait and see.

Have a great night, and an even better tomorrow.

Deon

***

The Gift

Passions peak with a glint in the eye.
A savory taste of reality’s treasures can only impress.
Much to do about what is hoped to be proclaims itself the endeavor.
A fortitude of magnitude enhances the motivation of desire.

Reach out into the unknown and begin the task of making your mark.
A goal awaits patiently with captivated anticipation.
Breathe in deep and praise the gathering rush of a beating heart.
Amazement becomes description as the victor ascends the next plateau.

Revel in the present, as the gift of life embraces thee.
26 days have passed this month of April, and as the feathered flyers make their furied trek north, the buds on the trees yawn and begin to stretch awake.

I love the spring, except for mud season. It really is an amazing time of year as it all starts to wake up from the frozen grips of the old man of winter.

Sometimes the natural gifts are overlooked. I remember each spring, when I would notice a different flowering bush, color of a flower, shades of new leaves, and of course the smells of the first lawn being mowed. That smell, most of all, reminded me of baseball, which I seemed to live for as a youth.

Things come to us in many different ways. Some we have to fight for, some we have to work for, and some just seem to fall in our lap. The ones that matter the most are those things you need to work for and fight for with the fierceness that the warriors were known for. It’s all about the goals, and the journey towards those goals.

Enough rambling from me. This is my submission for this, the 26th day of National Poetry Month, and don’t look now, but the 27th is clicking its heels and heading for Kansas, or New Mexico, or perhaps even Maine?

We’ll have to wait and see.

Have a great night, and an even better tomorrow.

Deon

***

The Gift

Passions peak with a glint in the eye.
A savory taste of reality’s treasures can only impress.
Much to do about what is hoped to be proclaims itself the endeavor.
A fortitude of magnitude enhances the motivation of desire.

Reach out into the unknown and begin the task of making your mark.
A goal awaits patiently with captivated anticipation.
Breathe in deep and praise the gathering rush of a beating heart.
Amazement becomes description as the victor ascends the next plateau.

Revel in the present, as the gift of life embraces thee.

 

2017 04 25 Poetry: Birthday Cake April 25, 2017

April 25 is here at last!

Are you kidding me? Here at last? What the heck happened to the first 24? Did they go by way too fast? Did I write about this already? Repetition, right? Grin

It’s sort of strange knowing that I have been living out here on the ridge for 31 years. It’s even stranger that this house has been here since 1904, which makes it, um, let’s see, carry the two, bring it over and, ok. Man, this house is old!

Well, here it is, time for another poem submission for National Poetry Month. I hope I ain’t boring ya, and I hope you like the following poem, cuz it’s all I got for today.

Anyway, repetition is the main ingredient of life, so take it, and then, take it again.

I hope you have a good Tuesday night, and have fun with it.

Deon

***

Birthday Cake

Sitting here staring at a birthday cake.
A little boy’s smile staring back at me.
A thousand dreams make their way around the room.
Make a wish and you just might see.

A wind up car flies across the floor.
Laughter heard coming from a room upstairs.
Trim your hair for a Friday night dance.
Caring too much about what everybody wears.

Little boy went and grew up too fast.
Echoes still whirl around his bedroom walls.
I can still hear him dash through the house.
I see his smile every time he calls.

I sit here again and I stare at a cake.
It’s not too different from one back awhile,
Except for one unique difference.
It’s my little boy’s little boy that gives me a smile.

Dedicated to my son Matt, and grandson Jack.

Sent from my wicked younger than me Windows 10 Machine.