Daniel Mark Picture Poems

For Valentine’s Day: A Love Poem Revisited

Dan — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 18:46:42 +0000

It’s Valentine’s Day! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Here’s a poem for those in love, and those who want to be:

A Thousand Dreams

I have dreamed a thousand dreams

in vivid colors

with brilliant hue,

with still blue waters on golden sand,

with mountains rising from the land,

and endless flowers waving then

in gentle winds in summer sun.

I have dreamed a thousand dreams,

and you are there in every one.

I have seen the spectrum of rainbows cross the sky,

showing every color

to discerning eye.

I have touched the endless waves

of seas upon the shore-

a hypnotizing rhythm always changing yet the same

as it ever was before.

I have smelled the scents

of a million lovely flowers,

making beauty just by being,

dancing in a gentle breeze,

heeding not the passing hours.

I have heard the whispers

of the wind across the sand,

and I have felt a mountain move

when you held my hand.

And now I see it all so clear:

this is real and we are here,

touched by fortune, kissed by grace,

now as one in love’s sweet space.

And as I look upon your face,

a thousand dreams are now in view.

Kiss me now and hold me near:

All my dreams have now come true.

That You Remember Me Part II of II

Dan — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 15:59:39 +0000

This is Part II of two parts of a poem called “That You Remember Me.” This was written in reference to Alzheimer’s Disease, which afflicts so many people and their families. I wondered what it must be like to realize that one’s mind is becoming forgetful. The victim must fear being forgotten, just as they are forgetting. How frightening that must be. Please give generously to the Alzheimer’s Foundation.

That You Remember Me

I love to watch a baseball game,

or listen to the birds.

I love to tell you secrets.

I love to hear your words.

I love for you to sit with me;

perhaps you’ll hold my hand

and tell me that you love me–

that I’ll understand.

My mind has ways of taking me

where I don’t want to go.

I know I know your name, you see;

just right now it’s hard for me

to think of things I really know,

and to know what really is

and what may not be so.

Though I might forget you,

it’s important that you see

just how much it means to me

that you remember me.

* * *

Alzheimer’s Disease: That You Remember Me

Dan — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:47:53 +0000

That You Remember Me

Part one of two parts

I’ve learned so much throughout my life

I know it’s in there somewhere

but it’s hard to find it all.

It’s not that I’ve forgotten you,

or the things I said I’d do;

I remember everything

but it’s hidden somewhere I can’t see

just beyond my view.

You see, there is a shadow where

there didn’t used to be,

and sometimes when I look right there

it just confuses me.

I remember lovely flowers,

and songs I used to sing.

I remember springtime showers,

and rainbows they would bring.

I remember movies

and who would be the star,

but sometimes it’s so hard for me

to know just who you are.

Donate to Alzhiemer’s research.

If there was no calendar, what day would it be?

Dan — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 19:18:50 +0000

Happy New Year! Make it so.

We make such a big deal about a new year. We convince ourselves that, somehow, this one will be different and better than all the others. And perhaps it will. Each of us, of course, has some power, some ability, and some opportunity, to make it a better year for ourselves. But increasingly, I think we, collectively, believe that we have less control over our own futures than ever before. Why? The blacks and whites (not racial terms here–just a descriptive term for issues) are melding into grays of varying intensities, and most of us feel trapped by those who seem to assert, with such certitude, positions that are so far to the right (or to the black) of us or so far to the left (or the white) of us that we are not sure we can even formulate a position of our own without risking major criticism from one side or the other, or even both. And so we often remain silent, while we suspect our world is imploding upon itself and upon us. And we try to cheer ourselves up by focusing on little things: a new year; a holiday; a small raise; a stock market rise; a birthday; a new car; a new episode of CSI.

But still we are scared. The institutions we once believed in are beyond our understanding, and seem beyond caring about any of us. Greed seems rampant in far-off places, and while we like to think we can muster up some economic ambition in ourselves, it seems that there is something or someone out there, unknown to us, that will somehow end up benefitting much more from our efforts to rally ourselves than we will.

And this frightens us in a way perhaps not seen before. Our efforts, we suspect, will be for naught. Government does not work, we think, and we suspect that government is no longer owned by “the people” but by moneyed interests that we don’t know and cannot touch, but we sense that they are in our purses and wallets more often and more deeply than ever. Even more, we suspect that they are in the purses and wallets of those we trusted enough to elect to office, such that what we want and hope for and expect from government is irrelevant in the face of the demands of the moneyed interests.

And yet, every couple of years, we are told how much our votes matter, and how important we are to the process, and how much our opinions matter. But we suspect we are being lied to, and we don’t know who the truth-tellers are anymore, or if there is even a truth-teller out there. More to the point, we worry that we have no one to speak for us, and we worry that no one would listen even if we found such a person to speak for us. If we have no one to speak for us, do we have a voice? Most people, I think, are relatively and quietly moderate, or they don’t care, until they figure out that their jobs are leaving town and they won’t be able to buy food because the grocery store is closing because there is no one capable of buying food even if they, individually, had a little money to buy food. They can’t send their kids to school because the schools have closed because no one owns a home because their jobs left town and they couldn’t pay the mortgage, and the property taxes are unpaid and so there is no money to pay teachers and for school buildings and more maintenance. And stop signs will not get replaced when they fall down, and fire and police protection will become sparse and perhaps ineffective. And who will monitor those who would pollute our lakes and rivers and air? And who will inspect the restaurants to make sure food is safe? And who will make sure the airplanes are safe? And so on.

This country was truly founded on the backs of the middle class, and the upper classes knew this, and understood it, and accepted it. Read Ben Franklin. Read about George Washington. Read Abraham Lincoln. Read. Read. Stop watching the TV (except CSpan’s Book Channel). Read. See how important the middle class was and is. But when the middle class is squeezed into oblivion, it may be too late. And the end result will be that the upper classes will start to eat each other. Why? Because when the middle class is gone, they will need to create another one, which will be made up of former members of the upper classes. Why? Because they certainly can’t trust each other. They know how they are, and how much they need, and they know that most of what they need is not very much except that they need all that they have and want no one taking any of it away for anyone else’s benefit. But they know they need a middle class, even if they have to invent one from former wealthy people. Because without a middle class, there is no source of income to the wealthiest among us.

But no society can exist without fair taxation, just as a professional association or volunteer organization cannot exist without dues. If such a professional association charged dues in the same amount to every member, the poorer members will simply drop out once they cannot afford it, and eventually, taken to an extreme, only the wealthiest members will remain. And they will have to pay more to sustain the organization, if they wish to sustain it. But in a nation, those who cannot afford to pay the dues cannot leave. What will happen when the middle classes can no longer afford to pay the taxes? When that point comes, they will not likely not be able to buy the products and services offered by those who produce the products and services, thus affecting the economic status of those producers. What will happen then?

So taxation is not the real issue. The real issue is this: what kind of country do we want to have? Do we want to weaken our country so much that only the wealthiest will survive? Are you an employee? Are you working harder and more hours than ever before? Is more demanded of you than ever before? Are you told that if you cannot cut it, you can easily be replaced? Do you feel like a slave to your job? Are you sharing in the bonuses? Who is? And are those bonuses paid to other people far in excess of your own salary? At the end of every review, do you feel simply lucky to still be alive? To still have a job? To still have health insurance?

Where does it end? It is 2012. It is an election year. What will your life be like in 2013? 2014? 2020? Do you want to be controlled by the extremists? By the wealthiest among us? What kind of country do you want? Where is the America you grew up with and loved? Who owns it now? When did they buy it? Who did they buy it from? And what did they pay for it? Did you get any of that money? Or did you pay for your own losses? Do you suspect that you did?

Where is my America? Where is your America? Is it still the land of the free and the home of the brave? Or is it now the land of the greedy and the rest of us?

2012: Be an American. Be a voter. Know the candidates. Know yourself. Love your country. Change the ownership. Make it your own. Start local.

Enough said. Happy New Year! Make it so.

A Christmas Wish For You

Dan — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 16:19:37 +0000

Here is a short holiday poem. We printed this poem on picture matting and we inserted a photograph of our daughters (previously used for a Christmas card) in the center, which is a nice and cheery way to greet holiday guests. Click on the photo to see it in a larger size. Comes in 10″ by 8 “.

A picture poem to greet your holiday guests.

A Christmas Wish for You

May the bells of Christmas ring

a song that never ends.

May the joyous sounds they make

bring peace to all our friends.

May the lights of Christmas bring

an everlasting glow.

May the love that fills our home

bring warmth to all we know.

May love and joy and peace be yours

now and evermore.

Ron Santo: A True Hall of Famer. Thataway, Ronnie!

Dan — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 17:41:15 +0000

After too many years, and one year too late, Ron Santo is in the Baseball Hall of Fame. He died just over one year ago, and so he did not know during his lifetime that he had finally received major league baseball’s highest honor: to be elected and enshrined in the Hall of Fame. I hope he knows now! But more than baseball, he was an advocate for the children who suffer from the disease that he suffered from most of his life. He had Juvenile Diabetes, and during his career, few knew that he had to test his blood and give himself insulin multiple times a day in order to save his life and health. He committed his life to helping children who suffered from this disease, helping the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation to raise over $ 60 million to support research to find a cure for it, and to help the children, all while undergoing two leg amputations and multiple other health issues. I am re-running this poem in honor of his Hall of Fame election. It is called “For Every Kid.” And thank you, Ron Santo, a true Hall of Famer!

For Every Kid

You played the nation’s greatest game

with talent and with fire,

reaching deep within yourself

yet always reaching so much higher.

It is a game learned by boys,

yet also played by men.

You played the game so you’d inspire

everyone to have some fun–

so men would play like boys again.

There was a joy to making catch

that others might not make,

or to drive the runner home

when victory was at stake.

Every game was a test

of stamina and will.

You always gave your very best:

you played with passion;

you played with skill;

stars may dim but never rest.

And when the games were over

and the crowds were getting thin,

you gave yourself to different cause,

more determined now than ever

to fight the fight and to win.

You saw the children suffer

from the burdens that you knew.

You gave your all the only way

that you knew how to do:

have a passion; set a goal;

make a plan; then pursue.

You knew their hurt; you knew their pain;

you knew the fear in each one’s brain.

You showed them courage;

you gave them hope.

You taught them how to live and cope;

you showed them that there was no shame.

You gave yourself; you gave your name:

you kept the kids in the game.

So thank you, Mr. Santo,

for everything you did:

for the game; for the Cubs;

and most of all–above it all–

for the love you showed for every kid.

You fought the fight every day

and still you played the game.

the Biggest Leagues have called you up:

You’re a star in every sense–

you’re in Heaven’s Hall of Fame.

Congratulations to Ron Santo! All good things to his family!

Steve Jobs: Organ Recipient / Gratitude to Donors of Life

Dan — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 12:25:21 +0000

So Hope Will Live (Part IV of IV)

Today we conclude So Hope Will Live. This is Part IV.

Boston College has a motto: “Ever to Excel.” It is adopted from Homer’s Iliad.

It is a great motto for a great university and for all of us,

because it encapsulates a pursuit that all of us should undertake.

Steve Jobs pursued excellence and his legacy will long remain so long as others do the same. And he was allowed to continue his pursuit of excellence even after a devastating diagnosis because of the intelligence and talents of medical professionals, and because of the generous gift of life from an organ donor.

As I said earlier, this poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might express his sense of gratitude to his donor. We do know that while he was alive, he did thank his donor. This poem is written from the perspective of a recipient to his or her donor and family. Two families are now bonded in a way like no other.

Strangers are indeed now a family.

Donate Life. Your Life Will Go on Living.

So Hope Will Live Part IV of IV

Know that I am grateful

for the life you gave to me.

May my life give you light

wherever you might be.

And may my life bring comfort

from the pain that hurts you so;

we are strangers now a family,

wherever we may go.

And may the life that lives in me

shine a light so all can see

that life goes on, ironically,

when we choose to donate life,

so hope will live, eternally.

P.S. I have not yet read Walter Isaacson’s book entitled, simply, Steve Jobs, but I intend to.

Steve Jobs: Organ Recipient Extraordinary Life Part III of IV

Dan — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 16:37:54 +0000

The tributes to this remarkable man continue all over the internet. The following poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might reflect the gratitude he felt for his donor.

Below you will see Part III of “So Hope Will Live.”

Donate Life! Be an organ donor.

So Hope Will Live (Part III of IV)

Your gift has given life to me –

a gift of love, born of pain –

joined by science, joined by fate -

a bond that bridges life and death –

a bond of love; a bond of pain -

a sad and strange irony –

a gift of life now given me,

and strangers now a family,

burdens borne with different names.

Steve Jobs Part II: An Extraordinary Life; An Organ Recipient

Dan — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 11:34:20 +0000

This is Part II of a poem called “So Hope Will Live,” which was written last year. It was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it is a poem written from the perspective of an organ recipient who is alive because of someone else’s gift. Donate Life: Your life will go on living. www.donatelife.org.

Part II of “So Hope Will Live:”

A part of you now lives in me

and we are joined like family –

not in blood and not in name,

different, yes, but yet the same –

joined in cause and common voice –

knowing that there is a choice

to donate life to someone else

so they may live their life again.

May each life be for all

a light ahead in driving rain.

Also, give to JDRF. For the children.

Steve Jobs: An Organ Recipient; A Man Who Changed Our World

Dan — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 15:37:56 +0000

Far too young.

Steve Jobs lost his battle with pancreatic cancer this week.

But remember that without a donated liver, he would likely have lost his battle several years ago.

The world lost one of its best a couple of days ago. Lost in the outpouring of accolades for a genius committed to excellence is the fact that he outlived his life expectancy. He was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer years ago, but most who have heard that diagnosis have only months to live. How did Steve Jobs survive so long? In part because he received a liver from an organ donor a couple of years ago. He thanked his donor in one of his speeches, and acknowledged that he was alive because of that generous gift. I did a poem last year entitled “So Hope Will Live,” written from the perspective of a recipient and serving as a “thank you” to organ donors and their families. The poem was not written with Steve Jobs in mind, but it might express his sentiments. Here is Part I of that poem:

So Hope Will Live (Part I)

We are strangers now a family,

forever joined – not by choice –

but joined by need and joined by pain:

different lives, but common voice –

a cry for love, a cry for life,

so hope will live, eternally,

born of saddest irony.

Life will never be the same –

not for you and not for me:

One you love – who shares your name –

now is gone, but I remain:

a second chance, a new domain –

a gift of life, that lives in me;

we are strangers now a family.

Be an organ donor: www.donatelife.org.