Untitled (Haiku)

Glenn's Posts, Poems

after the battle
fields of mustard flowers bloom
deserters return

Forever in Indiana

Glenn's Posts, Poems

I wander Indiana’s familiar cornfields,
Where combines thrum the rhythm of life,
Maple and oak, voiceless keepers of secrets,
Stand as solitary guardians in the fields,
As shade and rest, forgotten grave markers —
In this place, time flows differently.

And beyond these rolling, pastoral farms,
The Wabash limps quietly along,
A brown thread dividing a patchwork of fields,
So slowly you might mistake her for a pond,
Where willows dip fingers into her wistful belly,
And dragonflies dart between purple blooms —
Peace settles in like the final hush of cicadas.

I wish you were here with me again,
In these fields we took for granted in our youth,
And we could live forever in one ageless breath,
Our spirits blending with the sacred land,
Becoming part of the mystery that is this place —
Close your eyes and you can feel us changing.

From time to time, people will swear they see us,
From the corner of their eye, embracing as lovers do,
Airy figures lingering in the sunburst’s fading light,
And with heartfelt reverence, they will recount the legend,
Of two aging lovers who slipped gently away,
Into the tender honesty of twilight in Indiana —
Look hard, up to the thinning heavens, suddenly stars.

Of our aging fathers…

Glenn's Posts, Poems

Walk with me, under the generous sky,
and let us think of our fathers,
their hands, though now gentle with age,
still carry the memory of ancient oaks.

In their frailty, we see the passage of time,
no promise of tomorrow, only the beauty
of every present moment with them,
cherishing the fleeting grace of now.

See how they move through the world
with the determination of a stream,
carving paths through stubborn rocks,
drawn by the silent pull of purpose.

In the mornings, a shadowed veil falls
over the memory of dew-kissed grasses,
age, a relentless teacher, becomes a friend,
each lesson a well-remembered step.

Remember how he taught you about nature,
to stop and “just listen” – can you go there again?
hear the muted murmur of water in the distance,
you can smell it for a mile, wool and moss.

Picture him sitting there, in that green place,
again in the evening’s golden glow,
his eyes, two wells of sacred wisdom,
reflecting the setting sun, stories untold.

Remember he will always be with you,
in every breath of wind, every rustle of leaves,
guiding stars in the night sky, leading you home
when you’ve lost your way – “just listen”.

To all our fathers, familiar trailbreakers,
whose love flows like a never-ending river,
whose spirit, though aged, remains steadfast,
we pledge our hearts in sincere gratitude,
forever bound to their enduring legacy

JOHNSTOWN’S INDEPENDENCE DAY

Glenn's Posts, Poems

Amidst the Alleghenies’ embrace, where rivers merge and stories unfold,
Johnstown awakens, adorned in the hues of liberty’s light,
A town reborn, resilient, its spirit unbroken, its heart full of pride.

The Conemaugh River glistens, reflecting skies of freedom’s dawn,
Its journey tells of strength and perseverance, a current of unyielding resolve,
Through valleys rich with history, through landscapes shaped by time and toil.

On this July Fourth, the air is filled with patriotic cheer,
Flags flutter, a symphony of red, white, and blue, unity in every wave,
Fireworks ascend, painting the night with bursts of independence and hope.

Green parks bloom with festivity, a town renewed in spirit,
Summer’s embrace sings renewal, just as Johnstown’s spirit is renewed,
Trails weave through forests, where the echoes of freedom’s anthem resonate.

The community gathers, breathing life into traditions old and new,
Festivals bring art, music, joy and tales of shared heritage,
Hands clasp in celebration, preserving today, shaping tomorrow.

Artists burst vibrant and free, a blend of creative expressions,
Capturing the dreams of a town steadfast and brave,
Creativity thrives, a beacon of independence, forged in the crucible of hope.

Here, past and present harmonize, a mosaic of courage and dreams,
Each piece a testament to fortitude, to the spirit of July Fourth reborn,
Johnstown, you are a canvas of resilience, a manifestation of enduring freedom.

Your people, a chorus of history and hope, each voice a tribute,
To floods overcome, to renewal embraced, to futures imagined,
In the Alleghenies’ heart, you rise, ever steadfast, ever free,
On this Independence Day, Johnstown, you are the best of America.


~Glenn Lyvers

Chapters

Glenn's Posts, Poems

Beneath the waning light’s gentle caress,
A solitary soul, aging’s slow progress.
Through the landscapes of life, the journey’s trace,
Each chapter written on his weathered face.

Footsteps echo in a measured beat,
Moments counted, a life complete.
Every passing day unveils a page,
In the aging book, each line and stage.

Reflections in the mirror, stories unfold,
Contours of a life, intricately scrolled.
Eyes that have witnessed the seasons turn,
In the silent verses, wisdom earned.

Colors of youth, now softened, subdued,
Yet within, a flame, a stoic mood.
Threads of gold weave tales untold,
In the quiet room where life unfolds.

Ghosts of moments, shadows cast,
Wandering through the chapters of the past.
In the stillness, resilience found,
A spirit enduring, on solid ground.

Bones may creak, steps slower tread,
Yet the heart’s rhythm, unwavering thread.
Through life’s gentle stream, the narrative flows,
A symphony of years, each stanza glows.

As the sun dips low, casting hues in the sky,
A palette of memories, where moments lie.
In the twilight of life, a serene grace,
Embracing the journey, in this sacred space.

Let time’s hands weave their art,
On the canvas of age, each chapter a part.
In the quiet twilight, when the last page is spun,
A life well-lived, the story is done.