Five Poems by Nolo Segundo

 

Ode To An Old Age Spot                                                  

 

At first

I feared it had malevolent intent,

appearing as it did out of nowhere

to rest on my forehead near where

hair used to reign in all its wavy

glory…

 

perhaps the Big C, paving the way

for the insidious invasion cancer is,

turning loyal cells against the body,

attacking the innocents, laying waste

to the pulsing home they all share?

(It happened before, basal-cell, on

the nose, and when it left, by force

of surgeon’s hand, it left a scar, but

thank God, it was not its deadlier

sister: Melanoma-- did ever such

a deathly disease have such a lovely

name?)

 

So, worried,  I scurried and hurried

off to my skin doctor, asking for a

quick checkup and erudite diagnosis.

He looked at it, then took out his

little magnifying glass and pressed it

against my forehead-- and smiled!

 

‘Don’t worry, be happy!’ he sang--

no, just kidding (he’s a good doctor

but not a song and dance man).

He told me it was an age spot,

I was just getting old (which I

maybe should have figured out,

after seventy-five years on earth).

 

Then he said, ‘I could freeze it’

but I told him not to bother--

old age cannot be disguised,

though movie stars and the

vain try-- then too, a face

where time works its way,

like some drunk artist, is

a thing of courage and in

its own very special way,

a thing of eternal beauty….

The Walking Wounded

 

I see us everywhere anymore,

at the supermarket or the mall,

moving slowly, often cane-less

(old folks can be vain too) along

a sidewalk like lost zombies, and

of course every time I visit one

of the plethora of doctors I rely

upon to keep my cracking body

and creaking heart working….

 

Why did I not see old people

when I was young?

They must have been there,

in my world of swiftness and

sex, of sprawling on a beach or

dancing under the boardwalk

or driving fast enough to

challenge death itself---but

when I saw old people---and it

seemed rare back then—it was

like watching a scene from an

old black-and-white movie,

not quite real, even quaint---

 

I liked old people and I loved

my Nana and Pop-Pop, but only

now in my 8th decade do I know

how much they had to put up with

in living a long life, how time has

a tendency to whittle away your

strength and confidence and grace,

shrinking your bones, drying out

your joints, slowing your brain

and poking holes--oh, so many

holes in your memory….

 

I am not as fond of old people

now I am one—it is the young

I now see fondly—

but they can’t see me….

 

 

Now The Stars Hide

 

I grew up in the countryside,

on a farm with the nearest

neighbour a quarter mile away.

Every night the stars shone like

unreachable precious jewels

adorning eternity-- and I felt

very, very small and yet,

strangely, also very, very old

and more, oh, so much more

than my daytime self drunk

on the petty and the mundane.

 

Now I live on a quarter acre

with neighbours on my left and

neighbours on my right and

neighbours across the street and

a big city so near it cloaks even

the light of stars at night and

I am left only with the memory

of eternity….

 

Flying over Vietnam, 1974

 

I flew,

a modern man in a steel bird,

with all the arrogance of

ancient Icarus, but my wings

did not melt nor I swoon.

 

I flew high, very, very high

Over Asian lands and homes,

And below me, very, very far

Down where the bombs fell

Like the rains of hell—

I saw the face of the moon.

 

[note: this poem was inspired by the memory of a commercial flight I took after a stop-over in Saigon on my way to teach in Taiwan, having taught in another war-zone called Cambodia.]

 

ONCE I SAILED THE OCEANS

 

Once I sailed the Oceans,

braving the blue cold water

like a restless young shark,

sea monsters meant naught

and mermaids sang to me.

 

Once I flew through the Skies,

freer than any eagle could,

seeing the world below as

heaven laid out below--

while I soared and soared.

 

Once I walked the Earth,

a small giant, a large grin

as men stepped back and

women came forward…

 

But then time tempered

my once hot iron and

cooled fevered brain,

and God wrung me

inside out till my soul

shone its brilliance

and I hid my old face

in shame, in shame…

 

Heaven and hell are

both gifts now I see,

fruit of the same tree,

the one Adam, Eve

were told to flee…

And God gives so

much, so much, and

so many chances, so

many, many chances.

 

Nolo Segundo, pen name of L.J.Carber, became a widely published poet in his mid-70's in over 140 literary journals/anthologies in America, Canada, England, Romania, Scotland, Portugal, Australia, Sweden, India and Turkey. A trade publisher has released 3 book length collections: The Enormity of Existence [2020], Of Ether and Earth [2021], and Soul Songs [2022]. These titles like much of his work reflect the awareness he's had since having an NDE when as a 24 year old agnostic-materialist, believing only matter was real and so death meant extinction, he lept into a Vermont river in an attempt to end the suffering of a major clinical depression. He learned that day the utter reality that poets, Plato, and Jesus have spoken of for millennia: that every sentient human has a consciousness that predates birth and survives death--a soul. A retired teacher [America, Japan, Taiwan, and Cambodia in the mid-70's] he's been married 43 years to a smart and beautiful Taiwanese woman.