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    Once over the Shoulder
    Once over the Shoulder
    Once over the Shoulder
    Ebook220 pages1 hour

    Once over the Shoulder

    By Alex W. Bussey

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    About this ebook

    Once Over the Shoulder is Alex Bussy's second book of poetry: his first, Webs Solidly Woven, was published in 1999 by Four Seasons. The poems in this book express various aspects of human nature love, hate, fear, sexuality, violence, vision and, above all the hunger man has to discover why he exists. Alex's impeccable use of language, unusual use of imagery and vivid display of ideas will often leave the reader shaken and emotionally drained. Readers will experience the dregs of life as well as beautiful inspirational insights.


    Although the book is divided into five parts, there is a single thread running throughout with varying degrees of subtlety or intensity: things happen, sometimes within our control and sometimes not. But we must come to some form of realization and deal with the situation. Some of the poems begin on a thread of despair, but end with an inspirational experience.


    Frequently this is instinctual as in the "Doe", but, too, it is a coping process as in "Sparrow" or "Winding Down". The search for the meaning of life reaches out and embraces the reader in both "Forever Seeking" and "Progression"; and how much more shocking and violent can life become than in the depiction of the Oklahoma bombing in "Our Very Own"?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateOct 31, 2002
    ISBN9781403302533
    Once over the Shoulder
    Author

    Alex W. Bussey

    Alex W. Busséy developed an early love of poetry, but only began writing seriously after he retired from a high level Government Agency in 1995. A graduate of the Catholic University of America with degrees in Speech and Drama, his first book of poetry, Webs Solidly Woven, was published in 1999 by Four Seasons. He has received recognition from numerous anthologies, including three Golden Poet Awards from World Poetry, A Poet of Merit, two Editor's Choice Awards and Several Honorable Mentions from American Poetry Association, and a Second Place Award from National Library of Poetry. His work has been praised for its language and vivid imagery, often compared to the brushstrokes of nature! Alex is also an extraordinary photographer.

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      Book preview

      Once over the Shoulder - Alex W. Bussey

      © 2002 by ALEX W. BUSSÉY. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

      or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

      recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

      ISBN: 978-1-4033-0253-3 (Electronic)

      ISBN: 978-1-4033-0254-0 (Softcover)

      ISBN: 978-1-4033-0255-7 (Hardcover)

      Part I

      The Light Dawns

      Contents

      Cycles

      Desert Canyon

      Forever Seeking

      Going Down

      Heat

      I See Me

      In The Light of Death

      Madelaine

      Nature’s Child

      Our Very Own

      Progression

      Retired Sailor

      Sandscape

      Stillness

      Taken Away

      The Bar

      The Candyman

      The Cure All

      The Doe

      The Last Snow of Winter

      The Magic of Sound

      The Rain Came

      Timothy Logan

      Touch

      White on Black

      Winding Down

      Cycles

      Nature endlessly renews itself

      Life blossoming from death

      No immunity exists from life’s natural order

      Illness can be the ultimate cruelty

      Yesterday walking ramrod straight with pride

      A posture of steel grace forged by accomplishment

      Now shoulders hunched with constant pain

      There was always between them an unspoken bond

      Love and admiration for an older brother

      Out of sadness and awareness of his imminent death

      Came a great tenderness for him

      And an understanding of life’s secrets

      There were good moments

      The sharing of two worlds

      They shared the best of themselves

      The unknown worst lay dormant

      They had long talks of simple joys

      There was a subtle passing down of wisdom

      Family is the greatest wealth

      A priceless gift not to be squandered

      Each moment is highly precious

      Life is but a string of moments

      Rushing by too quickly

      Rushing, rushing

      Never waiting

      Rushing

      But never lost to memory

      If solace is needed

      Recall

      Never leave living today

      For one which may not come

      Desert Canyons

      For years I coveted seeing the desert

      And the canyon lands of the West.

      The dead, dead desert!

      All dust and tumbleweed,

      And occasional vicious biting arthropods.

      The desert could kill;

      But it is not dead.

      Dirt, red and gray, regurgitating heat;

      Heat so hot it sears to the touch,

      Mind crazing hot, blurring the vision.

      The desert, empty, boundless, fenceless;

      Endless big sky.

      Deafening silence; stillness.

      Occasional prankster clouds

      Playing tricks on the eyes.

      At night coyotes sing to the moon.

      The spirit lives here.

      It seeps into the pores of the skin,

      Dances under the huge red rocks,

      Gathers strength from the sun,

      Hurls itself into the cooling evening winds,

      Barrels itself through the canyons;

      It carries the immensity of nature,

      The cold-eyed wildness of wolves,

      Chants the language of unremembered tribes.

      The harsh water torn moonscape face

      Of the red-brown beautiful desert

      Undulates across the flatlands,

      Heaves itself into the red canyons.

      Arid washes gape where floods once rushed:

      Snow marches along distant mountains crevices:

      Saguaro Cacti stretch majestically skyward,

      Occasional owl faces peering from within.

      Clouds gathered, changed patterns.

      Silence abdicated to rare hums.

      An occasional enchanted animal appeared:

      I watched them in awe and wonder.

      The air became suddenly close.

      Crystal rain began to fall;

      Splaty drops on the dry dusty soil,

      Which coughed up smoky spirals in retort.

      I ducked under cover of a needle pine.

      The shower, however, was a tease.

      The rain did not hanker down,

      Did not rest on the distant mountain tops,

      Did not blot out the sun.

      The surrounding rock-crunchy ground

      Was heavily populated with little periwinkle flowers.

      After the shower a sweetness filled the air.

      Suddenly up a small ridge of soldier stone,

      There she was!

      Regal.

      Majestic.

      Awesome.

      The magnificent Grand Canyon.

      Engulfed in dead stillness.

      Taking in her vastness, her incredible beauty

      Was like a supernatural experience,

      A spiritual encounter.

      Two large birds, perhaps eagles, flew in the distance,

      Continued to the edge of the horizon

      Brushed with pale streaks of rose purpled gray.

      The day was fading rapidly.

      The late afternoon sun bounced

      From layer to layer of canyon walls

      Creating colors the eye never imagined.

      Down, down, down at the Canyon’s bottom,

      The great river a snaking pinstripe.

      In the distance the sun’s rays pierced

      Through a slit in the darkening sky,

      Fanned out into infinity in the silence.

      Rapidly the sun was silently sinking:

      The moon waited to rise in the opening clouds.

      Great blankets of shadow changed the world.

      On the terrain flanking the Canyon

      Jagged silhouettes of cacti and yucca spikes,

      Tall needle pines and abundant rock shapes

      Lay-against the sky in colors undefined.

      The sunset was heart-stopping;

      An endless sense of involvement

      In absolute stillness.

      A sense of creation,

      A place where ugly has yet to be discovered.

      In the approaching darkness

      The stillness was broken

      By the running chill

      Of the night winds.

      It was like witnessing

      The birth of the world.

      Forever Seeking

      In Venice, just after the sun disappeared into the sea,

      Eerie shapes and sounds drifted around the streets.

      A sense of the supernatural crossed my being as

      A mist rode each canal in a mysterious shadowy ballet.

      Silent violin weeping ricocheted over the waters

      As goblins twirled and played on building facades.

      An intense power was afoot threatening my center;

      Things were happening that defy understanding.

      The mist grew heavier, but a sense of weightlessness

      prevailed.

      Had the obvious been so clouded, so obscured?

      The most precious things in life are lighter than air.

      Happenings between people are like little drifting clouds;

      Existing little puffs of air that cannot be held onto.

      Those extraordinary moments between people are billows

      of smoke,

      Elusive, constantly changing shape, floating into infinity.

      Whiffing mist whirled around me, drifted over the canals.

      Another soul escaping into the great, dark unknown.

      With lightening bolt swiftness I knew I would never know

      The meaning of all those little footprints

      Appearing out of nowhere in the sand on deserted beaches.

      This obviously was not a prank of the wind and water!

      Going Down

      He’d been put down too often

      To have any self-esteem left.

      He’d been let down so often

      His heart in two had been cleft.

      He thought it not possible to be more low:

      His brow already dragged the floor.

      Then fate crushed his crown

      And forever closed his door.

      They dug a six-foot hole in the ground

      And let him down some more.

      Heat

      Heat to humble.

      Heat to kill.

      The white sun

      Hung like an ornament

      In a sliver of cloud

      Burnt orange.

      Jagged mountain ranges

      Rippled in infinity:

      Jet black in the foreground,

      Dark brown behind.

      Sable brown snaking

      In front, burgundy,

      Shrouded by burnt orange

      Fading to deep orange,

      Multiple yellows fighting

      The oranges for central sky.

      Parched desert sands,

      White heat rising,

      Swallowed every living creature

      In total disappearance.

      A lone rattler

      Ventured too far

      From the distant mountains

      Dehydrated to skin and skeleton.

      Darkness long in coming

      Offers relief only to the sand,

      Too soon to begin

      The cycle over again.

      I See Me

      My day had been normal, unstressful:

      I did not feel unusually fatigued.

      As usual, I fell asleep rapidly.

      I was sleeping peacefully

      When I realized the light was there.

      It was brilliant white:

      The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

      It was calling to me, come, come.

      The light was spiraling into a tunnel:

      I began to move more rapidly toward it.

      I was euphoric with happiness,

      Softly the most beautiful music ever heard

      Caresses my senses and I was aware of others.

      They were dead relatives and friends.

      I wanted to reach out an embrace them.

      Wait! I looked back and saw me

      Lying in the bed peacefully sleeping.

      How could I be here looking at myself?

      A puzzle, but I didn’t care.

      My dead family members were reaching out to me.

      I loved this place and wanted to stay.

      The light was drawing me closer to them.

      I was running deeper within when

      I felt a tugging pulling me back.

      Wait! Don’t leave us. Please don’t go!

      I did not know who was holding me back.

      I tried to break free and rush towards the light.

      A powerful voice: Stop! It is not your time.

      I was plucked from the receding light,

      Clearly saw myself reenter my sleeping body.

      I awoke with a start, drenched in sweat.

      My heart was racing, but I was calm.

      I

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