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"Loss and Gain" ... after a daughter leaves, her father struggles to live ... a friend lost his daughter to a freakish traffic accident. Dedicated to Noelle, late daughter of my friend Micky Peluso, author of And The Whippoorwill Sang.


He took one life but gave back two.

how flows His divine arithmetic I cannot sum ...

When a daughter’s sudden loss does a father benumb

unfathomable are His mysteries none too few.


Reaped undeservedly he this bitterest shame,

tear drops stream onto lips bespeaking his grief.

A dream became a nightmare’s fallen leaf ...

for him announced an angel twin miracles came.


He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,

enwrap them tightly until you can no more.

though souls depart and will forever soar,

cover them with kindness gently unfurled.


Each night wherein she lies a father comes to weep,

for he no longer hears his ballerina’s tiny laughter, now mute.

preserved long ago on a schoolgirl's recorder flute,

which he plays softly each night until she falls back to sleep.


Alan D. Busch

June 15, 2010

At Heaven’s Gate


Hear me Ben, to you alone do I whisper,
close your eyes while I silently lullaby sing …
each day reminds me forever of yesterday
when tomorrow’s morn will no smiles bring.

Ben, Ben may I yet find you hiding?
I searched that night as much as I could …
Awaken, Ben, with me from this nightmare,
May G-d crown your life with abundant good.

Oh so longingly have I waited o’er these ten years,
but have now only understood what others see …
That it isn’t I who awaits you so much …
as it is you who’s awaited me.

Just as G-d does not warn man of his final awakening,
and the dawn of next day will not him renew …
Patiently await me Son though I may tarry …
when we’ll walk together barefooted in grassy fields of dew.

Alan D. Busch

Poetry, Dialogue, Composition

Poetry, Dialogue, Composition


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Dear Readers,

This piece that I hope will serve as the postscript to my second book, tenatively entitled Between Fathers and Sons was published by www.examiner.com under the title "Poetical Reflections In Memory of My Father, Dr. Albert I. Busch. Google that title and several direct links will pop up. I would appreciate any written response you may have by posting a brief comment at the end of the examiner piece. See my other two pieces also published by examiner.com: "Losing Ben" and "Kissing Dad's Nose".

Sincerely,
Alan D. Busch

"Reflections In Memory of My Father, Dr. Albert I. Busch"

Sturdy Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,

A man of strong body, mind and soul,
my father’s real strength lay in his emotional tenderness.
His nature exposed as fiction the notion that “real” men mustn’t cry.
My father could be a tough guy when he needed to be,
but his true nature was that of a gentle soul.
This is the dad I cherish and miss more.

Profusion of leaves from peaking buds bring …

We were blessed when G-d renewed him each day.
His was a favored soul.
His tomorrows became less certain
as yesterday’s clouds caught up with us.

Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring…

A blossom makes us smile.
Its perfumed scent renews our flagging hope.
My father smiled when others frowned.

Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.

Just as a boy needs his father,
so I cherish the memories of my youthful dad
and keep them as leaves in a sacred book.
Its pages are tear-stained and tissues serve as bookmarks.

I gazed at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.

The Creator brings on evenings gradually
Just as He causes the brilliance of a man’s smile to fade
as the sunset of his days approaches.

Steadfastly towers o’er broad horizons seen.

His shoulders slumped, his back bent, his height diminished …
his gaze he could no longer cast as far as he had once done.

Fading verdancy from which I needst myself wean,

I mustn’t forget my father’s passing was not tragic,
but appropriately sad.
I am grateful he merited to become a “zakein,”
a man of advanced years and wisdom.

Dusk dimmed his light when fog it once pierced.

The bright, white light of youth became the colorful panoply
at which older, wiser eyes marvel.

Violently tosses this storm a gale,

He lived a healthy life until the very end.
The experience of his illness left us adrift in unfamiliar waters,
but the winds guided us to the end of his horizon.

Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.

My father’s life was in His hands in Whom I had placed my trust
for no man governs in these matters.

Lest the tumultuous sea's calmness feign,

Entrusting man leads to despair and loss of hope.

Steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.

Let thy trust reside alone in Him from Whom the wind blows.

Gaze the firmament for His infinity unknown

I acknowledge His Majesty by searching His Creation.
Wellness and illness are His province alone.

Accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.

I am thankful for his eighty-seven years.
May he merit his portion in the world to come.

May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,

I remain strong because I know before Whom I stand.

Content thyself with what he hath sown.

He left the world a better place than how he first found it.

Alan D. Busch

alandbusch@aol.com

Martin

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Martin (dedicated to my friend whose love for his brother, whom he never knew, is quite extraordinary.)

I stretch out my arms for Martin …
If I could, I’d have dug his well deeper,
If for me he was never meant to be,
I remain alas my brother’s keeper.

Why didst Thou my mother’s heart break?
For Martin, until her last day, she grieved
Burdened by guilt she should not have borne
Unto Thee did she steadfastly cleave.

Until this everyday, these years later,
In prayer do I call Thee in dread.
I can’t help but wonder why Martin …
Wouldst Thou had taken me instead.

I writhe in my anguish to fathom,
Thy ways in the wee hours I’ve sought
Why didst Thou decree so severely?
The pain his young death hath wrought.

Alan D. Busch
10/2/09

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Fingers, A Poem for Kimberly, My Daughter May She Always Be Happy ...

My heart leapt for you long had I waited,
for a gift of divine perfection would you mine be.
In awe was I of your tapered fingers I marveled,
when mine eyes first beheld thee.

Side by side we stood rinsing dishes,
Our moment of you and me always I’ll cherish.
Mom fashioned twin braids for you with blue ribbon
hold on tightly lest our memories perish.

A butterfly like none other fluttered by me
Sparkling pixies dancing on toe shoe,
Tiny ballerinas with balloons and candy
Nary an eye saw through tear drops of dew.

I gasped when she curtsied, my breath nearly stolen.
Such precious moments number so few
My heart did break though mend it did quickly.
I shan’t ever grow weary of loving you.

Your delicate grace will ever me inspire,
ere mine eyes your shadow yet lingers ...
of loving you I shall never tire.
Are there any lovelier than my butterfly's fingers?

Alan D. Busch
9/9/09

ben bresky poetry submission.rtf

For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

My memory of you when a boy I did teach,
of a human being I pray I helped you become.
Let your life reflect the divine spark in each
when the banality of others does us benumb.

Teary-eyed sighs on cloudy days recall,
a boy whose freckled face crestfallen became ...
for plucking orange lilies off sun craning stems,
whose countenance shone neither remorse nor shame.

A lesson he'll recall from that day hence …
may many more days be his to see.
Respect life all, from great to small,
guard this lesson's value pristine,
Tend your garden a school it becomes
when tomorrow's children will have lillies seen.

Alan D. Busch
7/3/09

For Zac

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For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

“May He Become … ”

A father’s son he prays be (come)

a person …

if, when and where there may be none.

I see him then when he was, but now is,

No longer a boy …

but in process, a man

may he become.

Orange lilies along the way

I scolded him, once long ago.

his freckled face crestfallen.

Boyishly plucked the flowers from their stems.

We laugh now at that memory, but its lesson

he retains …

respect life, son, its beauty.

Now at twenty, his becoming is but another beginning.

Return now and again to the ‘abc(s)’

A good man lives with and accepts responsibility.

Befriend them who have few if any.

Respect a woman for she is another man’s daughter, as your sister is mine.

Learn from every teacher, especially those you may dislike.

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My father is very ill in a hospital. His son reflects ...


Sturdy Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,

Profusion of leaves anew from peaking buds bring ...

Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring ...

Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.

I gaze at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.

Strength his tower o’er broad horizons seen.

Fade youthful verdancy from needst thou wean,

dusk dims its light where once the fog did pierce.

Violently tosses this storm a gale,

Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.

Lest the tumultuous sea in calmness feign,

steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.

Gaze the firmament for His infinity unknown,

accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.

May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,

content thyself with what thou hast already sewn.


Alan D. Busch

July 2008

"Loss and Gain"

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My friend mourns the recent sudden death of his 21-year old daughter ...

I dedicate the following verses to Noelle,of blessed memory, beloved daughter of my friend and author Micki Peluso whose book And The Whippoorwill Sang I have recently finished much to my own self-improvement. May she and her family have length of days, and the memory of Noelle be a blessing.

He took one life but gave back two.
How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum
when a daughter’s death does him benumb
Yet another of His mysteries none too few.

Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,
he comes each night to pray his grief.
At once did dreams shatter, in momentary brief
to his family soon two miracles came.

He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,
for them our love forever but live no more.
Their souls from bodies He doth tore,
cover them gently with love’s blanket unfurled.

He standeth before whom this father dost weep,
struggles to listen to sounds now mute.
Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,
turn away from this ground into which our tears do seep.

Alan D. Busch

Revised June 2008

"Loss and Gain"

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My friend mourns the recent sudden death of his 21-year old daughter ...

I dedicate the following verses to Noelle,of blessed memory, beloved daughter of my friend and author Micki Peluso whose book And The Whippoorwill Sang I have recently finished much to my own self-improvement. May she and her family have length of days, and the memory of Noelle be a blessing.

"Loss and Gain"

He took one life but gave back two.
How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum
when a daughter’s death does him benumb
Yet another of His mysteries none too few.

Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,
he comes each night to pray his grief.
At once did dreams shatter, in momentary brief
to his family soon two miracles came.

He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,
for them our love forever but live no more.
Their souls from bodies He doth tore,
cover them gently with love’s blanket unfurled.

He standeth before whom this father dost weep,
struggles to listen to sounds now mute.
Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,
turn away from this ground into which our tears do
seep.

Alan D. Busch

Loss and Gain

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Loss and Gain

(My friend mourns his 21-year old daughter's death ... )


He took one from him but gave back two,

How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum.

Suddenly his daughter’s loss leaves him all too numb,

yet another are His mysteries none too few.


Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,

he comes each night to pray his grief.

At once did dreams shatter in momentary brief,

so soon after to his son, two miracles came.


He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,

for them our love forever but live no more.

Their souls from bodies he doth tore,

cover them with love’s blanket unfurled.


He standeth before whom this father dost weep,

struggles to listen to sounds now mute.

Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,

turn away from this ground into which our tears do

seep.

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Revisions to Poems ...

"The First to Be … "

Gaze across the night's sky to see
the limitlessness of His divine reach.
Illumine mine eyes twinkling stars this night.
May I learn the lessons You teach.

The spheres You created without compass or pen …
galactic orbs You cast far beyond sight.
Soaring to endlessness at heavenly speed,
Pray I to fathom Your mysterious might.

A house for man, from words You did utter
with neither roof nor walls a world You conceive.
Illumine the darkness, the moon but an ember ...
Master of The Universe … in Thee, I believe.

Awaken each morning to avian symphony,
our lips with gratitude but of bitterness none,
by His grace a new day, to us He hath given
The first was He ... though He had never begun.

**This last verse is based on an old translation of a verse from the Jewish hymn “Yigdal”.

Alan D. Busch
May 2008
_____________________________________________________________________

"Up Heaven's Slope"

Dedicated to Those Whose Lives We Might Otherwise Have Known

Why wrenched from hearth and home,
o'er hills and fields whence they came?
Dreaming dreams didst they freely roam,
awakened to morning cold and lame.

Wearily trod up heaven's slope,
their figures stooped, transparently thin,
anguished lives as none others before
why tarry the storms of Heavenly din?

Much like Goliath who in battle fell,
a travail, cold and dark, did numb
that even David who had fought so well
would soon that night succumb.

Prayerful hopes shoes be found
for souls bereft and torn.
If only a moment, a breath to breathe
for spirits dulled and worn.

Should there not have been at least the one
for whom faith steadfast but rare,
that his would be ennobled by Thee
to seek his just and fair?

Who glimpsed the light but touched him not,
whose spark had begun to wane.
Next day ere long gathered clouds again
for fewer who remain.

Bowed under Pharoah's lash by day,
by night a storm did rage.
Why had He not shown the way
a war He could have waged?

Aside bodies on planks they lie,
precious heat what little remain.
Dreaded welcome soon might bring,
next to whom they had just lain.

Still in death's kingdom shone
a light, a way, the day
when dawn’s rise would fewer eyes see
whose faith did them sustain.

The world we choose points us down
paths long sought by peace,
in rose gardens when we plant the seeds
lest memories tragically cease.

Alan D. Busch

May 2008
______________________________________________________________
"Lonely For You Forever"

Drawn home that night wherein the cries
my mind, in madness, did roam …
agonizing if I should open the door
to Ben's house, no longer my home.

When the blackest tar darkened the light,
my family and I shudderingly wept.
So sad when I would have preferred
with them I might have slept.

In memory’s flight I remember this well
at evening's end he readied to leave.
I felt the burn of his stubbly cheeks
how much in remembrance we grieve.

Ben, Ben ... I wept.
We spoke, but then in silence you died.
It was only just a moment ago
while asleep in my dreams I cried.

Our child in common we loved him so much
for Ben my eyes wept I did tear
this reality unimaginable, especially dark
with whom I could neither be nor near.

So few hours have now elapsed
since that psalm to you I did sing.
I am already lonely for you, forever ...
when morning dew no smiles will bring.
______________________________________________

“Pleasantness and Praise”

A wedding prayer for a young couple: the groom’s name is Noam which means “pleasantness” and the bride’s name is Tehilla which mean “praise”.

Braid my life to thine I pray …
I seek thy love forever mine.
Our family will be, we vow to Thee,
a home unto His glory divine.

I promise all I am, to thee I give,
stand with me on this, His sacred altar.
Wedded today in our oneness become …
open Thine hand when we falter.

As days become years, many may we merit,
favor our bountiful works, our hands need strengthen.
From the corners of fields, gleanings to harvest,
cherish us in life so our days do lengthen.

Pleasantness and Praise may your life be enriched,
v’shinantam levanecha v’debarta bam … *
every day in your service to Him ...
may Noam love Tehilla and Tehilla … Noam.

Alan D. Busch

*“ … and you shall teach them diligently and speak of them …”


May 11, 2008

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Sew A Stronger Stitch (poem) by Alan D Busch on AuthorsDen

First To Be (poem) by Alan D Busch on AuthorsDen

Poetry of Pesach (poem) by Alan D Busch on AuthorsDen

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The First to Be …

Gaze far away into the skies you’ll see,

the vastness of limitless divine reach.

Illumine mine eyes oh twinkling stars this night

May I merit to learn the lessons You teach.


The first of circles You drew without compass or pen,

galactic orbs you cast far beyond sight.

Soaring toward endlessness at heavenly speed,

I pray to fathom the ways of your might.


A house for man from words you did utter,

with neither roof nor from walls a world you conceive.

From darkness each night, the moon but an ember …

Master of The Universe … in Thee, I believe.


Awaken in morning to sounds of the dawn,

our lips with gratitude but of bitterness none.

By His grace a new day to us He hath given,

be as He, the first to be though He had never begun.*

*This last verse is based on an old translation of a verse from the Jewish hymn “Yigdal”.

Alan D. Busch

May 2008

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All that Remains Is Oftentimes More Than You Think

All that Remains ...

All that remains number but few
a mangled scooter for one ....
hidden from view but for all to see
the havoc one mistake had done.

For years on tree bark did knelt
supporting its maple trunk, broadly hewn.
Fearful was I that if memory felt
would be cast to the wind if strewn.

When he rode it home that first night ...
a "giant" astride a motor ride small.
So incongruous the contrast did seem,
what lay before that us would soon befall.

To part with this relic,
would not I his memory betray?
An anguished decision, but I let it go
lest inadvertantly I myself slay.

Unlike the verdant green grass,
that withers so soon fast.
Stubborn remembrance defiantly stay
the course of time long last.


Alan D. Busch
April 2008

I Am Lonely For You, Forever

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I Am Lonely For You, Forever

(Reflections that evening of Ben's death ...)

Drawn back to my house,
wherein her plaintive cries I did hear.
Wept my heart for Ben's mom
with whom I could be neither nor near.

In desperate near madness, oh ... the blackest of nights,
joylessly my family did weep.
So sad when I would have prefered
together with whom I might sleep.

Our child we loved him so much in common,
my mind unrestrained in darkness did roam …
this reality unimaginable, especially stark,
my house … no longer my home.

In memory’s flight I remember this well
when ended Passover they readied to leave.
I felt the burn of his stubbly cheeks
funny how much in remembrance we grieve.

Ben, Ben ... I wept.
We spoke, but then in silence you died.
It was only just a moment before
While slept in my dreams I cried.

So few hours have since elapsed
in the hospital that psalm I did sing.
I am already lonely for you, forever,
when morrow’s morn would no new smiles bring.

Alan D. Busch

April 2008

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She and You

I’ve explained so much it seems,
enough for us both.
I regret, apologize, admit, confess …
a myriad of failings.
Why haven’t you?

You know what they are ….
I won’t repeat them here.
The burden of guilt I have assumed …
Why won’t you share?

I wonder if each morning …
do you see the person looking at you
who hurt me … do you?
Or do you deny any recognition and …
just go on with your life?

What hurts most of all …
is that you were never here
even after you returned.
The illusion of someone I had known,
but it was not you, as it happened,
though the outer resemblance was striking.

She didn’t love me as you had …
Her distance was farther away
than ever you had been near ….
when I could touch you.

She never smiled …
as you had so often, sheepishly.
When I opened the door Friday night,
I saw you there awaiting me on that couch
that you so disliked.
The table set, candles aglow,
your long braid and flowing skirts …
how much I do miss them … and
you.