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"

Where authors and readers come together!





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

Where authors and readers come together!


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.