Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me

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    Poem Commentary

    My car was hit. I went to the emergency room. The next day, I had a hearing on whether I would get some aid money. Still hurting and deeply depressed, I left out important facts that might have made a difference. I say "might have" because the cold-hearted indifference of that hearing would not have cared regardless of the specific content of my grief and need. // I'm ill. I have many demands on my time. I will still use spare scraps of time to write and post new poetry, and some older poems. That will take up most of my online time. Please understand that I won't have the energy or time to visit your worthy posts, and leave the comments I wish I could. // I am making here an appeal that is probably unfair. I am asking you, even though I won't be leaving you many or perhaps any comments, still to come to my site and leave comments for me. If you do not, I understand. If you do--thank you. --Michael LP, Mr. Poet

    Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me
    Good friends, old and new--and newcomers, too--and, for those who may dislike me, even my foes--
    I know you came here because you chose--
    Or solely because you were looking--since in my decline, I can leave you few comments to guide you--
    I welcome you, your inner "I am," to me, my inner "I am."
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    Welcome, my fellow and sister people.  I feel loving kinship and caring and compassion for you.
    I know you also have the living spirit of the image of God's "I am" within, wherein may you rejoice.
    I write poetry to speak to each of you--and. sometimes, even to speak for you, for some of you--
    Speaking in open honesty my full heart, with my life's voice. 
    Welcome to me, my life, myself, my heart, my poetry.
    Here you find the best of all that shall be left of me: My heart's true poetry--my life--I leave to you.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    Now, in my illness--and now, in my sorrowful, painful, fearful decline--
    I have only a little light left to shine.
    I cannot--I simply am not able--to leave each of you all the comments I wish I could.
    I must use my waning light to write new poetry, to publish and post.  Lines from a fading ghost.
    Yet, lines solid and sure, poured from my heart open and pure, that may outlast my dropping dust.
    Lines that I hope will endure--for a day--a year--or a century or two--maybe more--
    Or even just live for one lifetime in a single heart I may reach and write my heart upon--core to core.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    If tear-drops were coins with which I could pay for good medical care, I would--
    I would leave all of you tons of comments--if I truly could--
    If I were not harassed by so many bill-collectors--if I didn't have to struggle for meals and medicine--
    Seeking help from the State, which is great at making me pay parking tickets and every kind of fine--
    But drags its inhuman feet,
    And throws up blocks, and gives wrong information, as I struggle to gain any kind of help or aid.
    If I didn't have to go to hearings and offices; and wait long on the phone; alone--till someone tells me:
    "This is not the right place anymore.  We can't help you.  Go to this place, or call that number."
    And then the whole process starts again.  While cancer counts my every heart-beat.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    If my cancer were not now active again, just at the moment my health insurance and medical care
    Are crushing me the most, financially, to keep--a burden I am growing less and less able to bear--
    I would. 
    If I did not fear eternal sleep, and give so much time to fight the fall into such slumber.
    I would.
    Still, I will sometimes leave some of you some comments, when I can, while I can--
    Not as many as I should--but few and far between--as I slowly dwindle out of time and from life's scene.
    Until the time when I shall leave no more.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    Sadly and apologetically, I ask you--even though I can leave hardly any comments now--
    Please, to leave your comments, even if critical, for me, anyhow.
    I will read them, as long as I am able; they mean much more to me than I can make fully clear.
    Please leave me comments to let me know, if any of my words of joy and woe--of hope and fear--
    Reached you, touched you, or meant anything at all to you--whether light and small, or large and dear.
    Tell me if any of my words moved you in any way, or left some mark of meaning, worth remembering. 
    If you learned anything worth knowing, or were impoved in any way worth keeping. 
    Or if you melded with some true feeling of mine that was worth a smile or a tear. 
    Tell me--if you will--while you can--while I can still read your words--tell me now, before I disappear.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    These are my words of my love of living, my joy of life, my love of love, and my love of being me.
    And--bequeathed by my precious, deeply missed Mother--my love of learning, language, and light;
    My love of reading--as when I was a fresh new life in the world, she lovingly read to me.
    She taught me the worth of words, that can make magic of sound, and give treasures of meaning--
    In prose also--but especially in the bright and dark beauty of good and great poetry.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    She taught me to know and to love the soul-stirring meaning and magic of music and song. 
    She taught me to make the right choice, when choosing between harm and help, right and wrong.
    Also, and more so, my Mother taught me that others have feelings, too, with priceless lives, like me.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    All that is best in me, is part of me, because I had the fortune to be, as still I am, my Mother's son.
    But my genetic longevity is cut off.  I'm alive now.  But now death grasps me.  My life is almost done.
    Now I have been nailed by cancer.
    To the question mark of my dark coming doom, the infinite room in my heart finds only one answer:
    My kissing and caressing, with bittersweet love, every moment of my flying life, both day and night.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    Let me know if any of my words bridged me to you--whether we joined, for a while, heart and heart--
    Or whether for longer--maybe for the entire of life--if I gave you anything from inside me, worth keeping.
    If I gave you something worth having, from inside me, that I left inside you.  Before I forever depart,
    Let me know. 

    ========================================================
    ========================================================


    Thank you.  While this machine remains to me, I am

    Michael LP

    aka MLP, aka Mr. Poet, aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC
    (I'm still just me)
    Written on November 1, 2010  7:55 pm PDT  69° F  (High: 79° F  Low: 54° F) Barometer: 30.31 in and rising.  Humidity: 25 %  Visibility: 10 mi  Dewpoint: 32 °F Wind: CALM.  Sunrise: 7:02 am  Sunset: 5:44 pm
    Forecast:  Tonight: Mostly Clear.  Tomorrow: Sunny.
    Copyright (C) 2010 by Michael L..P.  All rights reserved (as long as I'm still around).

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    abuelita1 commented on Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me

    11-04-2010

    Michael, All it takes is faith of a mustard seed..............
    Reply to Comment

    abuelita1 commented on Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me

    11-02-2010

    Michael, I've been crying. Yes, your strong Angel isn't so strong. But, I refuse to quit believing in miracles. My tears will be counted, as yours are by our Almighty God. He shall comfort you, me and those that love you. I know you love to sing, and it saddens me to know you are not able to do so, as before. I shall hold your voice in my heart, as I will hold you there also. Love you, Super Angel
    Reply to Comment

    abuelita1 commented on Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me

    11-02-2010

    Michael, If I never get a comment from you does not matter. I will always leave leave comments.....You can't get rid of me that easy!! lol Smile! You are loved by many....... Love you, Super Angel
    Reply to Comment

    abuelita1 commented on Bridge to a Comet--Your Visits and Comments to Me

    11-02-2010

    Michael, Since the first day I read your words, I knew you were different. A caring, loving, friend you would be. I read your feelings of love, friendship, fear along so many more of your emotions. I knew of the situations you faced. But I never gave up on expecting a miracle. My life, my children's lives are miracles. You know what I mean. It is not by chance that we came into each other's lives. It was in a greater part of a plan than we can imagine. Your words have lifted me, made me cry, had me smiling, made me wonder. You touched my heart. I thank you for everything you have done for me and others through your words, your wings. Thank you for all you have done for me, and for others. You will always have a special place in my heart. I'M STILL EXPECTING A MIRACLE......WANT TO JOIN ME?? With load of love, Super Angel
    Reply to Comment

    PoetWithCancer

    11/02/2010

    1. Super Angel, // Your gracious comments are very valuable in my heart. Thank you for continuing to expect a miracle for me. I've had a lot of set-backs and bad things happen. It's hard for me to expect a miracle anymore--but I still fervently hope for one. And I still pray. // No matter what happens, I am grateful for the life I have lived. // These days my most personally felt songs lyrics are: "Yesterday / All my troubles seemed so far away; / Now it looks as though they're here to stay." // I have so many tiring, time-consuming things to do, that if I try to list them, it will consume too much time, and tire me out.

    PoetWithCancer

    11/02/2010

    2. To give you an idea of how often I feel sick and exhausted: I have mostly stopped singing on stage. You know how much I love that. Either I don't feel up to it, or I haven't got time for it. Usually. // Among the things I have done in my life, I used to have my own band. Several months ago, I passed an audition with a band--to replace the lead singer--but he came back unexpectedly. The band and I got along great, and the crowds really liked me. The band still wanted me to sing with them from time to time. // I didn't know it then, but it was good that the guy I was supposed to replace came back. I now know I could not have lasted as the permanent replacement. // I have a lot of energy on stage--as if I were plugged into a power source from deep in my love of life--but the times I could perform went down to once a week; then twice a month; then once a month, // It is better that I am allowed to pick my own times to sing--except for when they call me in. No one who saw me making my moves on a stage, and hammering out heavy songs with ease and power and joy, would ever suspect that there are days when I can barely get out of a chair without help. // For now, I have to stop singing on stage, though it is one of the great joys of living still left to me--I feel so physically alive, so appreciated by the audiences--and the reality of my finacial decline and my cancer being active does not scare me then. // I hope that I can fight my way through to a financial accomodation and arrange at least some medical care when my insurance ends. I hope that if that time comes, I will then be able to sing on stage, a few times more. // You know what musicians and singers cry out, so often, when they reach the end of a set. That's my battle cry--for everything I love in life--and for life itself: ONE MORE TIME!

    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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