Poetry by Ric Masten

Written by Ric Masten

Wednesday, 26 March 2008

Editor’s note: This week’s Poetry Corner features the work of Ric Masten. He has been called a stand-up poet, a serious humorist, an after-dinner philosopher and a motivational lyricist. He has made numerous presentations of his poetry and songs to groups including the White House Conference on Children, the NEA, the Rotary Club of Denver, and the Department of Justice Bureau of Prisons. He has been battling prostate cancer for nearly 10 years and recently brain tumors were discovered. His family says he is “going out dancing” and “we are all going to love and embrace each other and enjoy all the time we can squeeze out. No more treatments. Just love and good food.” His website ric-masten.net includes his song version of “Let It Be A Dance.” Masten lives in Santa Cruz County.

LET IT BE A DANCE

Let it be a dance we do
May I have this dance with you
Through the good times
And the bad times too
Let it be a dance

Let a dancing song be heard
Play the music, say the words
And fill the sky with sailing birds
And let it be a dance
Learn to follow learn to lead
Feel the rhythm, fill the need
To reap the harvest plant the seed
And let it be a dance

Everybody turn and spin
Let your body learn to bend
And like a willow with the wind
Let it be a dance
A child is born the old must die
A time for joy a time to cry
So take it as it passes by
And let it be a dance

The morning star comes out at night
Without the dark there is no light
And if nothing’s wrong then nothing’s right
So let it be a dance
Let the sun shine, let it rain.
Share the laughter, bare the pain
And round and round we go again
So let it be a dance

DEMENTIA

when I was 19
my parents went around the world
leaving
from the San Francisco marina on a freighter
with passenger accommodations
back in those days
when the gang plank had been raised
and the ship was ready to depart
the passengers
would line up at the rail looking down
throwing serpentine
colorful paper streamers
to friends and family on the pier below
we would hold tight to one end
while those we hold dear
held on to their end
of these
slender fragile ribbons
then slowly
almost imperceptibly
the ship began to move away
the paper connections
snapping
one by one
as the steamer headed out into the bay

after fifty five years together
my cancer is incurable
and your memory is fading
which makes me acutely aware
of time circling the drain
running out of the clock
wondering whether
the love of my life
will slip over the horizon
before I am forced to leave the dock

ON THE MOUNTAIN

somewhere about a third of the way up
he came striding down the trail
and caught me unaware
a poet
staff in hand naked thin as a whip
wild gray hair framing the sun-stained face
his bright eyes blue holes
the sky showing through

when he saw me resting there
he laughed out loud — “Friend,” he said
“I have been to the summit and found nothing there!
Absolutely nothing!”
then laughing again he went on down around the bend
and left me

with my brand-new dayglow knapsack
ten dollar compass and waterproof boots
remembering how I’d sharpened my knife
‘till it shaved the hair on the back of my wrist
preparing myself for almost anything
but this

still I was young then and it wasn’t until I too
had run out of places to climb
that I began to wonder where he was going
and what he was after
laughing that way

so turning around
I followed on down behind
and if I took you by surprise this morning
coming down the path
believe me I was only laughing at myself
sitting there

THE ESCAPE ARTIST

if freedom
is nothing more
than being able
to choose
your own cage
as I suggest it is
then perhaps
the fun comes
in being
an escape artist

in recognizing
the cage you are in
deciding how long
you will settle for it
and then
when you want out
seeing how clever
you are at slipping
through a space
in the wire

perhaps
the good life
the full life
is nothing more
than every once
in a while
pulling yourself
through a hole
in the roof
standing triumphantly
looking down
with a “hot damn!”
and then around
with a frustrated
“oh no, not again!”

LONELINESS

standing by a highway
waiting for a ride
a bitter wind is blowing
keeps you cold inside
a line of cars is passing
no one seems to care
you look down at your body
to be sure you are there

sitting in a hotel
staring at the wall
with cracks across the ceiling
and silence in the halls
you open up the window
and turn the TV on
then you go down to the lobby
but everybody’s gone

and this is loneliness
the kind that I have known
if you’ve had times like these
my friend
you’re not alone

so you leave the empty city
and go down to the shore
you’re aching to discover
what you’re looking for
the beaches are deserted
in the morning time
a solitary figure you walk
the water line

come upon a tide-pool
and stand there peering in
and when you touch the water
the circles do begin
they lead to where a seabird
lies crumpled on the sand
so you take a single pebble
and hold it in your hand

and this is loneliness
another kind I’ve known
if you’ve had times like these
my friend...
you’re not alone

you come back up the beaches
at the end of day
and see how all
your footprints
have been washed away
no ... nothing is forever
we are born to die
so may I say I love you
before I say good-bye

I must say I love you
before I say good-bye