Creative Writings of Keith H. Seymour

QUESTIONS

2011-11-12T17:47:00.000-08:00

QUESTIONS

BY: Keith H. Seymour

Is it easier....to let the living go

After

they have abandoned...you

they dead...whom you have loved

but

never had to chance to, or were prevented from saying goodbye?

Is it easier to accept the differences of others

who are different....even... if they never accept you?

to deny....a known truth....to be accepted

a large group of people...who insist

the specific truth must be buried

for the world to be comforted....even if it is comforted with a lie?

I have felt alone... in a room full of people,

that claim to love and respect me.

Even though they do not understand me...and have never really tried.

I have felt alone... when nobody else was around to comfort me.

Yet, I have never figured out

which feeling of loneliness is worse

even if they are equal.

If God intended for mortals to know the answer to various questions,

why are some questions not answered when sought?

Will people ever know the answers to these unanswered questions?

If so, when? If not, why not?

It is all so...questionable!

Sighting...the Truth

2011-11-12T11:15:00.000-08:00

Sighting...the Truth

BY: Keith H. Seymour

If we were blind...and touched

the other's

hands, eyes, face, or any other part....of our physical being,.

how would we know... the hue, shade or color

of the other's skin?

Unless....

somehow... verbally.... revealed.

It is therefore, not what we see with the eyes placed within in head

that matters,

but the eyes from within... and that express our true selves.

The eyes placed within our hearts...our souls.

I do not know....whether or not there would be

less

fear, hate, prejudice, or war

if the world population suddenly lost the ability of physical sight

or even

If God in his wisdom, had never endowed mortals with this gift.

Therefore, forcing mortals to use the eyes from within.

I only know

that true blindness....comes not from loss of physical sight

but.

The inability...or refusal

to see others and ourselves...using the eyes placed within

our hearts and souls

Ethnically Insulting....Ethnically Incorrect

2011-05-25T21:47:00.000-07:00

Ethnically Insulting....Ethnically Incorrect

BY: Keith H. Seymour

There are those who say:

“Don't use the “N Word,” and dis-respect my race!”

Which causes myself

and others to wonder:

Why so many others do it as a pleasantry

to their fellow ethnic's face.

The Italians, Latinos, Polish and Mexicans do not

derogatate.... themselves

by saying thing like:

You're a really cool Dago, Dude. It's good to see you my fellow... WOP.

This is Paul my Pollock Pal.

Hey! How's my favorite fellow Spick?

Also, unless you want a fight,

you better have proof

that someone whose ancestry is of the Emerald Isle,

is a drunken wife beater-

before calling him an... “Irish Mick.”

So someone, please explain to me!

Cause, I just can;t figure.

How descendents of people who fought for their dignity,

do not see anything wrong

with greetings such as:

“Hey buddy! How's my favorite Nigga'?

Neither African-American's or in general,

society,

will ever be free of

psychological slavery,

until we rid ourselves/... and others of such

ignorant mentality.

So, whatever, comedians, rap artist, and pop cultures does,

you make the final choice.

After all, they don't speak for you.

They don't use... YOUR voice.

CHOOSING TO LIVE IN A WORLD THAT...

2011-01-09T17:58:00.000-08:00

CHOOSING TO LIVE IN A WORLD THAT...

BY: Keith H. Seymour

************************

I once heard a song...

from

what is now known

as the ...“Baby Boom Era.”.

The song's refrain,

“I won't live in a world without love”

is oh still so clear to me!

So, I now wonder,

has that... same generation,

once known for proselytizing

this ideal of the world,

now exchanged

the values of love, understanding, and compassion

with those of

status, established power, and wealth?

I recently had a conversation with a longtime acquaintance.

An esteemed and prosperous old Black man,

A product of that era, and once known

to espouse...and live

the ideals of that song's refrain.

As we spoke of tragic events occurring throughout the world,

he suddenly

sincerely proclaimed:

“Those people in the ninth ward of Louisiana,

those killed by Tsunamis, and those in poor wretched people in Haiti,

are all poor, desperate and lazy.

God gave them land to be productive and free!

It is because they aren't, they are are

, now

experiencing is God's wrath.

So, what has occurred, is as it must be.

Still, I will lend my aid to better their cause

because next year

it is a tax write off

for me.”

I replied to his words abruptly, with an overtly offending glare

True, people need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.

But what if they have no boots to wear?

Sure, if you teach a man to fish, he will eat for a lifetime,

but what if the source of that fish is poisoned,

and eating it

will not help sustain life, but rather...kill?

Then sir, I maintain that your proclamation

goes against... to GOD'S will.

Yes. I know, no true earthly Utopia will ever exist.

Yet, shouldn't we still strive to maintain ...a world in which

someone with an extra pair, will selflessly provide

the boots and the straps

to pull up and wear, and where people acknowledge

that poisoned fish is useless as food?.

No! I refuse to live in a world without love.

So the fact that I choose to remain...well it must mean

That somewhere in this world there still must be

others working to emphasize the greatest gifts

Faith, Hope, and Charity,

Fear of Membership in an Existing...but Forgotten Generation

2010-11-25T14:07:00.000-08:00

Fear of Membership in a

n Existing...but Forgotten Generation
*****************************************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
********************
I was looking into the faces...wonderful and cheerful,
yet, somehow...sad, lonely, and forgotten, although remembered faces.
They are the faces of cognizant, intelligent, once...and even still productive faces,
that belong to bodies...no people living....no existing in an assisted living facility.

They are widowed, spinster,and bachelor
parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.
People now single due to lost loves whose pictures...are all they possess,
who left them and never returned, or who never found that someone
who is supposed to be ...for everyone.
Still, they are alone...existing with others who may leave them... naturally

The children they loved, the adults they produced,
the existing...no living
friends, co-workers, and families who once expressed
the importance of how valuable these people were to them,
never visit, write, call, or communicate.
Even though they may live near by, of fly across the country
and even... the world for business... or some
luxury vacation.
These people now exist in some assisted living facility.
Therefore by people they once loved and still do
are no longer...a necessity.

I am.... outraged, saddened by this ingratitude...this lack of compassion.
Not only for them...but for me!
I fear... that when I look into the their faces
I may just see my future as a member
of a future existing.... but forgotten generation of people
that will possibly include...me.

Why I Cried...On Mother's Day

2010-05-09T16:36:00.000-07:00

WHY I CRIED....ON MOTHERS'S DAY
***********************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour

I went to a Sunday Mass.
It was on Mother's Day.
Afterward, the priest said a special prayer,
and then he sang
a special Mother's Day song
from his native Nigeria.
Part of it in English,
part of it in his native tongue.
While all of this was happening,
I cried.

You see, the mother sitting next to me,
was not you, but merely
a dear family friend,
who was “almost” like a mother
to me... before and after you left.
Still, she was not you.
So, I cried.

I was told
you had been in a better place
these past two years.
“She's with the Holy Mother.”
So, I cried.

It would be just like you
to
discuss my sins...over tea
with the Mother of Christ.
I can almost here you
then pleading
with her omnipotent son.
“God, help him, since I am no longer able!”
So, I cried.

Well intentioned... Christians
told me...the tears I shed for your absence
were selfish, and against God's will.

Well, why shouldn't I cry?
If my tears are act of selfishness,
why shouldn't I be... selfish?
Who is God to tell me how to feel?
What does the omnipotent and omnipresent one know
of such grief?
HE died before HIS Mother,
and it was her who cried not HE!
And although mortal, HIS MOTHER
did not die. She was.....
ASSUMED
Swept up within a whirlwind of the Holy Spirit.
She bore a glorious glow upon her face,
A crown of twelve stars about her head,
and the moon at her feet. According to God's will.

My mother however,
had a face that bore a shade similar to your grey hair.
you left... one man at your head, the other at your feet.
They took you to... a man made oven
where
your earthly body would be de
and turned into...spiritual ashes and dust
According to... your will.
What right does God have
to give HIS Mother
such a glorious exit,
and mine...a lesser one?

Is it because HE IS GOD?
If so, please tell HIM
I think HE is selfish!
For such blasphemous anger,
I truly cry,

Still, I cannot help how I feel!
For... the immortal Jesus has HIS Holy Mary,
not only on Mother's Day, but every day.
Those are the very days
that the absence of my mother-my blessed Patricia
I as a mere mortal man
must constantly deal.

Discourse of Discovery

2010-04-25T07:58:00.000-07:00

Discourse of Discovery
*******************

BY: Keith H. Seymour
********************
There was a time…. Once….
No, Often… when you were for me.
You were always with me.
even when
you weren’t actually there.
You see,
I still remember
a time when
You and your spirit
strengthened me.
Even when I didn’t need it,
and always ...when I did.
I never even had to ask for your compassion.
It was always there.
Maybe because you knew that
I feared asking for it
would be a sign of weakness
in your eyes also?
I don’t know.
I just know…
that your compassion was always there.

Ah yes, you and your spirit
would thrust your strengths upon me.
As if they were… hot coals
used to heal my pain.
You had such a loving spirit,
that came with the precious gift
of unconditional love.
It gave me such strength,
and I cherished it.
So, I’ve always tried to provide you
with the same.
Though, I am not sure
that you know this.
Not anymore, not now.

Yes, you are still here…
but not really. Not anymore.
You see… Now,
even when you are present,
I often can’t find you.
You now cause me to feel…
abandoned and alone.
Especially when you are
present or near.
So, even when I know that you are present,
your being of presence…
isn’t.
So now I wonder:
Why do I need or want
You or the presence of your spirit,
when I know that they cause me such pain!!!?

This question has at times
wounded me in ways that
only
I can now…
yet not completely understand.
Causing me to ask,
“Why and when
in my very presence
did you leave me!”

I ask because, well…
I don’t know
when or why
your approval became so conditional-
based upon the status of
such perfect graces.
After all, I know
your weaknesses and failings,
and although it may seem
Imperfectly so to you,
I have always tried to show
how much for you, I care.

I mean…
are my human frailties and errors
so inhumane that I don’t deserve
any sort of pardon,
or chance at restitution
for whatever horrible thing
that I have done to you!?
If so,
then such a horrendous sin
I should most certainly be made aware!
Yet, it seems such a disposition
you are either afraid to explore or know,
or yourself completely unaware.

So whatever the cause of your
sudden secession
from me,
I just want you to know that
I am sincerely sorry.
Yes, I am sorry
if you believe that
your life, mine, or someone else’s
has been a let down for you!
I can’t control that!
I am only able to deal with
the good and bad things
that makes us
me and you.
So I’ll no longer accept
that I must live with your attitude
of judgmental vain-glory.

You see,
it is your problem, not mine
that I am not like you,
or that I am who or what
You
wish me to be!
No. I will no longer allow you
to dictate that or any other
pretense
to me.

Oh yes,
I know
I am not perfect or infallible
like you.
I admit that I have flaws.
My name is not Narcissus!
I admit it! Its true!
I realize that you may not agree,
but I see no healthy logic in apologizing
for being mortal.

Yes, I make mistakes,
and yes…
I’ve even been known to fail.
Yet, in spite of all of this,
I know I’m a good person
Who has and will again
at life succeed.

So, whether you like it or not,
I am still proud to say
I’ve chosen to be the real and special me
Anyway!

A wan....to Feel

2010-01-18T10:05:00.000-08:00

A want.... to Feel
**************
BY: Keith h. Seymour
*****************

I want to feel.... I want to feel something special!
I want to feel like,
I have made a positive difference
somewhere, at sometime, for somebody..anybody,
and still do.
I want to feel or have Faith of something special...
even if I am not sure that it is there

Don't apologize, because you think you have offended me
when I have given no such indication.
That makes me feel,
as if I made you feel insecure...
or someone else has,
and you see me as no better.
I want to you to feel secure about me ...as a friend, a person, a human being,
a mere mortal.
I want you to feel and know that you are a special person.
Not just to me, but to others, and more importantly
to GOD.

I don't just want to feel like a valued employee, friend, or family member.
I want to feel like...you know I will listen when you need an ear,
I will be your heart, when you need a reason to care, or your strength
when you are too tired to try.
I want to feel like you know that... I actively and sincerely care.

Even if I never hear a word of thanks,
I want to feel like...
you smiled because I said hello, or because I smiled at you,
or because I was a part of your life... for even a day.

I want to feel... like you believe I am worth the effort
of reminding me that there is a green pasture over the next mountain or hill,
even when all my hopes and dreams ...seemed to have faded and disappeared,
and I have lost hope... none will ever again appear.
I want to feel... that I am so special to you...you refuse to let me give up
on me...you.. us...anything!

I do not want to feel like an obligation, or something
you have gotten used to over time,
the way someone gets used to an unwanted present they feel too guilty to exchange,
or an elderly relative or friend who has your respect
due to their advanced age.
I want to feel like... even with all my failures and frailties
you are proud to have me as part of your past, present, and future.

Maybe the sun did not shine any brighter because I was in your life another day.
Or the moon and the stars had no more majestic a glow,
because you ended your day, knowing I was a part of it.
Still, I would like to feel as if these things were true.
Can't you give me this feeling, when you know I would
for you?

I am not asking, nor do I want you to lie.... or to pretend
I am any more special than you believe me to be
I just want you to acknowledge that I do and always have cared about and for you!
I just need to feel... like I made a positive difference
to you...somebody...at sometime..someplace... somewhere.

Understanding a Truly Valuable Gift

2010-01-14T08:43:00.000-08:00

“Understanding A Truly Valuable Gift”
************************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
I have so little
Yet at the same time…I have so much.
I have less then most,
Yet so many more have so much less than I.
So is it sinful or vain for greater wealth to vie?
Even if such added wealth, would not be hoarded by me,
But shared with even needier children of God
So often ignored… by society?

I have all that I need…God willingly!
Still my needs want more than I have… materially.
I certainly have more material wealth
Than HE…whose head was adorned by thorns…
And whose body enshrouded “The first HOLY robe.
It was HIS test, trials, and tribulations… not mine
That were far greater then Peter, Moses, and Job!

Though I possess by mortal Standards,
So very little wealth,
A far higher power has Gifted me
With a “wealth of Friends,”
That some may number… “just a few.”

It is “this generous spirit” that reminds me…
I am to extend the same “Loving Gift”
In a manner and time that “God… not I decides
“For me to.”

The value of Worth

2009-10-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

The Values of Worth
*****************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************
Don’t kick me… when I’m down.
for even… the most subservient of creatures
will use its last foreseeable breath to maintain
the remainder of its
Self-worth and Dignity.
Likewise, I am willing to lose everything
Except for my dignity. I will never give up
the thing that makes me… special and unique.

So, in spite of what you or others may believe
I am still a talented person of importance and worth.
So, though you may see me as, or make me an outcast
You cannot bring me down.
For, even if you bleed my heart or bruise my soul,
I know I am a person of value and worth!

I may even have less material value than you.
Yes! That may certainly be true!
However, unlike me
You are known not to have
one iota of the honesty value attached to you!
Therefore, while I may certainly have less than you…
I am certainly not less of a human than you.
Rather,
I am more!

Standing Still

2009-09-27T17:41:00.000-07:00

STANDING STILL

**************** By Keith H. Seymour
******************
Why do I stand here,
remaining in the same place?
Even though I move,
I never seem to leave
this spot..this place

If remaining does not work.. I leave.
If leaving does not work...I stay.
I travel... inside the box, outside the box.
And everywhere else in between.
I continually travel to and through
every geometrical, geographical,
physiological area variable.
As well as...my own spirit-uality.<

I am consistently,
the confused traveler...permanent resident.
I just wish I knew
why I constantly move... and yet
I am always here...standing still

Even though I obviously
catch up with and often times... surpass
the others,
their lives move forward while mine a

The definition of insanity:
“Doing the same thing,
even though the method is proven not to work.”
So after discoveringwhat does not work for me,
and discovering what does work,
Why does it not work for... me?
Why do I go insane
trying to figure out the reason
I remain... in the same place?
Why do I always find myself and my life
standing still?

Un-Rest

2009-09-21T21:31:00.000-07:00

Un-Rest
********
By Keith H. Seymour
********************
A peace of the world,
And therefore,
A piece of me…
is rudely awakened by
anger, greed, fear, and ignorance.
Causing… individual and universal conflict.
For a piece disturbed is a peace no more.
Especially since…
Well, my world is so troubled
That it so often claims to fight for a peace
So universally and mutually humane.”
Yet with itself… it seems to be
Constantly
at War.

Covert Conversion

2009-09-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

Covert Conversion
*************** BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************
You changed me.
No, I mean it. You changed me.
I am not sure
Whether it was intentional or not.
At least, at the time
it didn’t seem that way.
I certainly did not ask you to change me.
I was just fine as I was, anyway.
You said so your yourself.
Even when we argued you said I was
an adequate person. Sometimes… a bit more.
Still... some how without my knowledge
You changed me.
You changed me,
And when we parted
I thought… even told you
You’d be happy, or maybe you just didn’t care.
Even your denial of this statement
seemed… extremely insincere.
Now, others correspond that you miss me.
Well, What right do you have to exercise
this prerogative?
I acknowledge that as a woman
You might have the right to change your mind.
You had no right however,
to change me.
Such an improvement would not normally bother me.
Except, I believe you enjoy the fact
That you knew of my sudden metamorphosis
long before I did.
I resent your change… your improvement of me.
I resent that I am here,
and you are still there.

2009-07-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

The Old Woman
BY: Keith H. Seymour
She possesses the grace and beauty
that creates a sense of peace.
Her eternal uniqueness
comes from
vitality and inner-strength
that never does cease.
Her beauty
is so often painfully serene.
It is a beauty
which is worshipped
by mere mortals
and each celestial being.
The face of this old woman
tells of our futures,
and even where we’ve been.

Her eyes
still sparkle like …
the rarest gem, the shiniest ore.
Life’s teachings
have been chisled lines upon her face,
as if she were…
a statue of a goddess
from ancient greek lore.
Though many of these lines
were created by the architects of worry and fear,
her presence and beauty
still selflessly served others,
providing all who know her
their most precious of years.

She is the oldest of women.
She is known by residents of earth
and residents above.
She is the most beautiful of all women.
The one known as
LOVE.

beginning new book

2009-07-19T09:21:00.000-07:00

Sunday, June 19, 2009: Today.I decided that I needed to write about the obsta

lces of dealing with epilpsy. It is going to be one f the hardest things I will ever do, because in spite of the name of this blogsite, there will be nothng creative about the facts in this book.

Still, maybe somebody can learn from my experiences, and how I have turned them and contiue to tutrn them into positive (yet difficult lessons.") The problem is obviousely not wrting about overcoming the obsticles, or even that it will in many cases bring up issues that will put me in a less than positive light, but through documented facts will put not only alot of powerful people within the south carolina school district (and family members in a positve light, it will also put alot of people in these same catagories ina negative light, and this could cost me friends,and increase what are alreayd stressful relationships among some family members.

Still, I have heard about and seen too many others go through what I ahve gone through to keep quiet, and if I do not stand up for what I believe in, and my standards of truth because I am afraid of disapproval, when not doing so could hurt others,what does that say about me?

I could write it as fiction, but what good would that do? If it got published I would only be asked at some point where I got the idea, and if it came from my life? I then would have to tell the truth. Maybe writing the manuscript annd deciding whther or no to submit it later, would be best.

UN-I-DENTIFIED

2009-07-18T14:04:00.000-07:00

UN-I-DENTIFIED
*****************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
************************
I enter a seemingly familiar room… or place
even a function to which… I have been invited,
or of which they have made me…
A part.
And though the people there seen to notice me…
They really don’t.

They say hello
and ask about my health…
Always asking about… some person or acquaintance
we currently know, or at least… we once mutually knew.
Their words and expressions
that flow with continuous consistency
seem to indicate
some sort of acknowledgement of me.

Yet, the tone in their voices
and their eyes… Oh their blank eyes…
They all say something else.
I would not say it is like… I’m invisible.
It is more that… Even though I know
I am there, to everyone else
I don’t really exist
and to them I never
Really did.

Thw Unexpected and unexplained Gift

2009-07-13T22:18:00.000-07:00

THE UNEXPECTED AND UNEXPLAINED GIFT
************************************************************
Why was I given this Unexpected Gift
of experiencing these ancient islands
and this beautiful blue-grey sea,
that flows into some ... beautiful Philippine bay?
Included in this aesthetic experience,
I notice that there are
flowing above this floating sea,
clouds of pure white mixed with some distant... forlorn grey.
When combined with...
A beautiful but disappearing sunset horizon,
they seem to successfully and aesthetically create
a forefront and backdrop that so easily labours together.
A simple but beautiful labor created and perpetuated
so that my eyes... and my soul may be fortunate enough
to... partake of this loudly serene... Asian Sea.

Oh how I long to be part of those distant islands
that now seem almost hidden
among some mystical haze.
These sights, these feelings...they are my privilege.
They are an undeserved gift given by some unseen being,
that is of some higher and far more exalted existence
than I.

For, surely no mere mortal
could possibly own or freely obtain
such a right, as to partake of
such a perfectly created beauty.
A beauty that is normally reserved
for
those residing in...
a more celestial place.
What type of being
would bother to create
for this earthly domain such beauty and grace?

THE UNEXPECTED AND UNEXPLAINED GIFT
************************************************************

What anonymous benefactor
would extend
such an extravagance to mere mortals-like me?
This unseen benefactor asks nothing
material value from me.
No monetary promissory note of debt
is or will be accepted from me.
The only collateral that I am required to give,
is to truly and honestly
Respect, Honor, Care for, and enjoy
"these" most glorious women-
these beautiful Philippine Islands,
and this glorious... Asian Sea.
I will always treasure
this
unexpected and unexplained gift
That has been so lovingly, freely, and graciously
given
to me.

Serenity

2009-07-03T10:09:00.000-07:00

Serenity
********
I sat beside the ocean,
and looked upon a place
of God’s creation that is…
So “perfectly” glorious to me!
A wonderful- the sunset ocean.
A calming image
of solid sandy specks of land,
and an exciting fluid mass of water,
Uniting,
In a marriage of
Serenity.

As the colours of dusk shone upon
the new grayish ocean,
I know that their warmth
benefitted all of the sea’s inhabitant’s.
It was just then that I noticed:
The stillness of the land…
The silent ripple of the now peaceful sea.
Causing me to believe:
“that God had stopped time
Just for me.”

As the sun and light
later began to completely fall,
the quietness of the ocean’s being
spoke volumes to my spirit.
A spirit that…overflows
as I am permitted to humbly adore
the grace and beauty
of the most
glorious, exciting, and mysterious female of all.

I will always love my ocean,
and she will always be precious to me.
Whether blue by day,
or deep black by night.
Whether she is brightened by the sun,
or a host of stars
her beauty will always be
“My very own”
Serenity.

Keith H.Seymour, is a freelance writer, poet, journalist . media consultant, current living in Columbia, South carolina. he is available for poetry readings, classes, (including tutoring), and classroom appearances. If interested in finding out more, he may be conacted at 803-960-875 (cell phone) or at keithhseymour@bellsouth.net

Long Distance Love

2009-06-25T08:32:00.000-07:00

Long Distance Love
*****************

BY: Keith H. Seymour
*********************
You are here…
I am there.
Our physical senses are unable to perceive
The existence of one another.
Yet, somehow…
Our hearts and souls
Concurrently and consistently
Do.

The words we have written
Have never been expressed by our lips.
Yet, though separated by land masses and ocean depths
The selfless passions we have for one another
Never seem unable to overcome these barriers

Still, these facts… make it no less painful to me,
To know
That we must impatiently wait
To join our lives,
So they may from then on match
Our already conjoined… souls and hearts.

High School Daze

2009-06-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.

High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.

High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.

Keith H. Seymour is a freelance writer, poet, media consultan currently living in Columbia, South carolina. He is available for poetry readings, appearances at schools, workshops, and tutoring. He may be reached at 803-960-8785 or at keithhseymour@Bellsouth.net

The Gardner and the Blossom

2009-06-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

The Gardner and the Blossom
************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************
Writer's note: This poem is dedicated to my mother Particia Ann Seymour( Nee' Bollig)
(Aug 12,2008)
It was just recently, that…
I saw the white azaleas outside,
And thought of…
How dried and dead they looked.
So often like my own life,
Since she left me.
It happened following her special day.
It was almost a year ago,
That I last saw the azaleas outside.

Even alive and mixed
With others of red and pink,
And flowers of marigold,
I would not have been satisfied
When I had seen…
The white azaleas outside.

No gardener could adopt or love
Any flower,
The way that she adopted this flower
With her mixture of love, discipline and affection.
Just as she had done with those
That sprang and blossomed
From her own natural seed.
I recalled how much I missed
Her nurturing element,
When…
I saw the white azaleas outside,

The perfect gardener has ceased to exist,
Still, the spirit that she created
Within this cross-bred blossom
Will always persist.
So I know I see,
The white azaleas…inside
Of me.

The Familiar Stranger

2009-06-12T12:14:00.000-07:00

The Familiar Stranger
*****************************
I met a stranger recently,
his presence...
hard to ignore
I recognized this stranger,
as if we'd met before.
I recognized his features:
his face, his form,
and even the way he wore his hair.
Yet, as to our specific meeting,
I recalled not when or where!

So I decided I'd been mistaken,
or our acquaintance was long ago.
Also concluding,
surely this individual
was too unimportant
Even for me to ever know.

He appeared again late
and it really bothered
that this seemingly trivial person
was once ever known to me!?
Who was this person
whose image within my mind
was embedded so very deep?
Who was this individual
constantly haunting my waking hours,
and so often times... My sleep!

My Answer?
I decided that if we had met before,
acknowledging ambitions and obligations
was the far more important chore.
So finally, I told him,
"Look later I'll deal with you.
Right now I have more important people to patronize,
and far more important things to do!"
So we he continued to bother me,
I had not the slightest clue

Then, after his appearances persisted
over a period of...
well, some great length,
I suddenly recognized... his enviable characteristics
of serenity, confidence, and deep inner-strength.

It was only then
that this familiar stranger
chose to reveal himself to me.
Stating: Aren’t you yet aware?
I am no stranger that you see.
Rather, I am...
what we now know as
that self-neglected part of...
ME."

Keith H. seymour is a freelance Writer, poet and media consultant, currently living in Columbia, S.C. He is available for poetry readings, tutoring, speaking engagements at schools, and consultations with fellow writers and artists. He may be reached at 803-960-8785 or keithhseymour@bellsouth.net

Bahala na

2009-06-09T06:40:00.000-07:00

Bahala Na
**********
By Keith H. Seymour
******************
Writer’s note: Bahala Na is a Filipino phrase that means “Come What May,” or “What ever God wishes for this time. It is roughly equal to the Spanish Phrase: “Que sera sera.”

Everything is copy written under my name.

Why couldn’t I tell you...
What others tried to tell me?
Why didn’t I know?
Or rather,
Why was I afraid to know… intellectually?
Though, I guess saying anything now,
Won’t matter… It is just too late.
Yet saying what I feel… is something that I must now do.

I thought time and distance
(But I was wrong)
would help me to forget
about my lack of courage… concerning a matter of the heart.
After all, didn’t you have the right to know…
and respond?
Even if you did reject me?
Then again, after all of this time
Do I have the right to let you know?
All I only know
Is that something in me impels me to confess all of this…
to you.

I know your heart has been given to someone else,
and Still, I have no regrets of knowing you as a friend.
I hope that even in the unfortunate happenstance
That we never meet again; you will still feel the same.
So please always know, that each day
I pray you experience eternal health, happiness, romance, and love.
As for any romance that may exist for me?
Well… Bahala Na.

Keith H. Seymour is a local freelance writer and poet. He may be reached at 803-233-9622, or E-mailed at keithhseymour@bellsouth.net or keithhseymour@bellsouth.net

Poetry and Short Stories of Keith H. Seymour, and associated news

2009-05-12T21:03:00.000-07:00