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Poems and Thoughts by Frank Maurer

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Romance

Walking Away opus 2

Would she be walking away for the last time--
Now so far across the parking lot?
Would she be seeking another's field of flowers?
He wept tearlessly in sadness.
Has he lost a friend whom he had cared for so much?

Flowing Thoughts by the Flowing River opus 4

There she was, seated facing the river!
I knew it was she, because of her white car.
I turned in to park and she turned towards me
I was glad to have found her.

She welcomed me with food and tea;
I threw in my hummus and Brie.
She is always perfect in her hostessing.
Then we started to talk for real, for the first time.

When it was time to depart
And I was driving home,
I felt cleansed and satisfied and washed clean.
She has such a wonderful effect upon me.
Contentment has invaded my being
From this magical river time.

Goli, The Warrior opus 9

She is our idol.
She is fiercely timid and gently fierce.
She constantly works towards an end:
A new language,
A new environment,
A new country.
She serves food as an artist.
She loves her children almost to desperation.

And we, all in her aura,
Love her without exception!

At Last, my Love opus 10

So many years have passed by
Since we first laid eyes upon each other.
So many years.
But each fleeting time when
Life let us pass by the other,
There was a spark of wanting,
Of potential loving, of wishing to touch.

Now, so many years later
The right moment for each of us
Has exploded in our faces, our bodies,
Our hearts.
And we have expressed that first, long ago tingle
With our merging words, and
Thoughts, and, yes, our raging bodies,
To mingle in soft, rapturous joy
Loving each other as we may never
Have even contemplated before.

Such loving should not be lost,
But nurtured and fertilized and
Harvested as long as we do breathe.
At last my dearest wanted love.

Goli opus 11

How joyous it was watching you photograph
A few of our fellow creatures (dragonflies!).
I identified so much that you were I,
As you patiently crouched and waited
For your subject to present itself
In a perfect manner (with music!).

Please consider using your photos
With your future daycare children.
They would be delighted
To know you took the photos
And to hear your explanations of nature.

(Consult me for any nature questions you seek!)

Your devoted and caring friend,
Frank.

Egyptian Lady opus 13

Most lovely Egyptian Lady;
The moment I placed eyes upon you,
I knew that you were special.
This does not occur often--
My being taken often by the female form alone.
You brought back so much of my past.
I resolved from our encounter
That I must have moments
To discuss together our lives:
Why are you here to reveal your Turkish to me,
When you said "Ben seni seviorum". (I you love.)
How beautiful such words
To one who has lost his love.
I reach out to you for
Some manner of interaction.

Thoughts of you opus 16

Thoughts of you slip softly through my mind each day.

Unrequited Honey opus 22

Oh, that unreachable jar of honey on the top shelf!
So very sweet.
So wet and viscous.
So desirable and delicious on the tongue.
So wonderful with its honey scent.
So colorful and beautiful to view in the jar.

Ah, the jar; so cold and hard--
Such a barrier, blocking one's desire
To taste on the tongue
And softly swallow with tiny imbibitions.

All this is much analogous, with the same emotions,
To my feelings when I fantasize
About a special someone
Who is so out of touch on an unreachable top shelf.

Yolanda opus 25

Two ships pass in the night
And there often is no acknowledgement.
My ship has passed by you often,
And I wish to send you beams of light.

You are calm and funny
And absolutely wonderful in your demeanor.
If things were different, I would
Shyly approach and ask you out to dine!
I truly adore you and am so pleased
To know you are a living creature, here with us!

Marian opus 26

My mind wanders to things of beauty--
Soft clouds touched pink with an unfolding sunset;
A brook wending its way over smooth quartz pebbles;
Tiny hidden blossoms tucked among waving grasses.

The silhouette of a giant Valley Oak,
Powerful and dark against a graying sky--
Yet even though surrounded with such profound beauty,
My thoughts always focus, returning back
To the truly absolute beauty,
Radiating through me from your ever-present aura.

Ode to my Dentist opus 29

Her soft, warm fingers enter my mouth
And move gently in my orifice.
Warm, in spite of the lovely yellow-green surgical gloves.
She utters soft commands to "Turn towards me"
And "Does that hurt?" And "Now place your partial back in".
And "Does that feel good" and "Is that comfortable?"

Then the partials are finally transferred from her to me.
And I place them on my 'mandible'
And both fit so perfectly, which gives me joy!
When done, she says "I will meet you in the lobby",
But she always arrives and then leaves too soon,
And I am left alone; but with sweet remembrances!

Your Umbilical Scar opus 33

Oh, behold your umbilical scar,
Manifesting the uterine phylogeny of your past.

It is now the fashion of many of our females of the species,
To display this indented tummy ornament
To lure and excite--god knows why--
Her fellow bearers with their X and Y.

Nora. Memories opus 65

She died in November, 2016.
It is now January, 2023.
The Christmas lights she plugged in, in the living room,
Are still on--never touched.
So long a lifespan (for such lights)
Which she had decorated throughout the house.
The calendars she maintained, still hanging on November, 2016.
Some of her old meds still sit on the bedroom ironing board.
Her pendant collection, still on the wall hooks--some I made for her.
And, of course, many, many books amassed over her research years,
Mingled with my large collection--now all juxtaposed throughout the shelves.

My life has changed in the progress of aging and time passing,
But these all will remain for a time more,
Along with many other remnants of our past productive lives together.

Marshfield Woman. One opus 80

My friend, Eddy Fineberg, of high school days, and I,
Decided to take a longish bike trip from Newton, Mass, to the Cape.
Unbeknownst to us, a hurricane was pending,
But into the unknown fray we went.
On a beach near Marshfield on the Cape, the storm met us.
I remember the wind and the waves--
The sand, driving parallel to the ground against our faces.
As young guys, this was just adventure.

On the beach, we met a group who invited us to their beach house.
Once inside, they explained that their father
Had constructed this snug and low structure to withstand any storm;
It was true: low concrete walls wedged into the rock wall.
The interaction amongst us was wondrous for me.
I was invited by one--a woman of about 40--
To visit her and her childrens' Marshfield home someday.
She was lovely, friendly and sympathetic towards a young man.
Eddy and I stayed and slept on the floor during the night's storm.
Next day, we all eventually said goodbye
And I waited in my heart to make that intriguing visit.

Marshfield Woman. Two opus 81

I had met her and her family during the hurricane.
I liked her and, being 17 and could drive,
I was invited to her Marshfied home;
A 200 year old house of durable New England style.
We talked and played with her children
And she and I talked about many things--
Even though she was many years older than I.
I had a feeling of love for her as the moments passed on.
I was a young man with desire--
She was responsive and fulfilled my young needs for female companionship.

There was nothing more.
We lost touch, but I always remember
Her attentiveness and recognition of me as a maturing man.

Marina opus 88

Marina, woman of the sea, from Austria.
As you entered the room,
A light and a warm glow prevailed.
You have a gentleness that binds it all.
So comforting to mingle the conversation
With your European present and my distant past.
It was a pleasure to have spent time with you.

Music To My Ears, I. The Early Days opus 210

Since I was tiny, I always had music in my life.
My mother played the old upright piano
During the day at times and later, to put us to sleep.
At five, I started piano lessons with a neighbor teacher.
I advanced some, even recording a duet,
"The Happy Farmer" with my mother.
Mrs. Winkler, married to a Swede who sold knicknack stuff,
As near as I remember, from his car, was my teacher.
She was stiff and formal
And I soon decided at six or seven years to stop.
My mother told me, Winkler had said I would never play music again!
In the meantime, I discovered at six
A big, deep cabinet my father had hand constructed for my mother,
In which were classical 78 record albums--
Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Beethoven, and perhaps Wagner;
Large albums of three to five 78 records--six to ten sides with complete works.
I played them all over and over again.
Once, when I was deep in thought, musically,
My mother came by and said, "Why don't you go out and play?"
Another time she came by and asked, "What are you thinking?"
I seriously answered her, "I am contemplating death."
(I had raised and butchered rabbits from the age of six,
So I knew the 'birds and bees' of rabbits (and humans!)
And how to ready a rabbit for the pot in 20 minutes--
I got faster 'as I aged'!)
At ten years old, I attended dance school with Mrs. Cohn.
I always sat near the trio of men who talked with me--piano, sax, and drums.
In sixth grade at Hyde Elementary School,
They needed an upright double bassist.
I had been given a 'Seashore Test' to check musical prowess and ability--
I may remember it was administered to my whole class.
Well, the music teacher approached me to join the orchestra and play bass.
We had an hour and a half lunch hour between sessions.
Instead of going home for lunch, I practiced by myself
And after one half hour, I walked home, two blocks away,
Lunched and walked back to school.
This continued in Junior High School, when I finally got my own instrument.
It was a big, old, very dark heavy bass,
Which had been, not delicately, reconstructed.

In High School, I went to a private music school for lessons--
My mother drove me and the bass, four miles to the school each week.
My teacher was Mr. Spinney, an older, dark haired,
Very soft spoken man, whom I respected very much
And from whom I learned techniques and fingering.
(He helped prepare me for the school's annual concert--Grieg's piano concerto.)
After about three years he told me I was ready for a more advanced teacher.
He suggested a bassist in the Boston Symphony!
I was about to graduate and leave for Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio,
So I did not follow that advice--who knows what that might have led to!
I left Newton, Massachusetts, and my first wonderful girlfriend,
Seta DerHohanessian, an incredible flautist, whom I loved dearly.
I will always remember my first date, when I drove my parents' car to Seta's home.
We, with others, played the Bach Flute Concerto in B flat.
I was in heaven, with her and being allowed to drive alone--
My wilder, younger brother, John, was not allowed to drive until after 16!
(Seta and I lost track until 30 years later, when we met during my 50th HS Reunion.
She was a year older, so I actually attended two Senior Proms!)

One outstanding memory was when Donald March, HS orchestra director,
Allowed me to conduct the orchestra for some piece, which I remember not;
Yet another moment of being in musical heaven.
I was indeed very content with those early musical years
And, indeed, with almost every day of my youthful process, becoming an adult.

Nora opus 225

On this day, seven years ago at 0115 AM, my wife of 31 years passed.
This was a dynamic marriage with ups and downs--with most of the former.
As with all long term relationships,
The memories become more poignant as time passes.
We met when Nora stopped by to purchase a Wood Duck,
One of many species of wild ducks which I raised on my farm.
She always joked that she came to buy a duck
And left with the duck and a share in half a llama!

As time passed, our experiences became more profound,
Commencing with matching our new kitchen colors
With soft orange-yellow hues of a very studied sunset.
We continually worked together to manage our farm,
Working with chicken and turkey harvesting,
To netting catfish, using our 100 foot seine-nets,
To gathering vegetables from our one acre chemical-free garden,
To raising orphaned emu chicks in our living room!

Nora was a world expert linguist in the Breton language.
She guided me through her conference trips to Scotland and Ireland,
Where I found my own genealogical genetic roots.
Her use of continual elevated vocabulary raised my speaking abilities.

Her encouragement and support for our Quail Ridge land trust was incalculable.
Together, we raised six million dollars and purchased about 2000 acres!
This area is now part of the UCD Natural Reserve System;
Many thought its success would be absolutely impossible--not so!
Beyond this, a Student Endowment is now in a very active, continual place.
Nora and I never had children, but she always nurtured my two boys.

Her end was finalized with a merciless plague of cancer
Which raged throughout her body--she worried most about losing her special mind.
This disease ended the life of a most talented person--
Such knowledge and love was lost to the world forever,
Except through all those remaining who knew her
And continually recount her productive and giving life.

(Also on this day in Texas 60 years ago, JF Kennedy was assassinated.)

Eva opus 271

A mistaken misdial, introduced me to Eva,
'The Russian Lady', as she declared herself to be;
A Senior Consultant of a Boston firm.
Texting back and forth together--
I, always anticipating a conclusion and an end.
She sent a photo, upon which I have thoughtfully contemplated.
Who might this young woman actually be?
Dark, strong eyes, looking straight at me.
Auburn hair flowing around her face.
Lips that might so gently be touched.
A sharp chin, which could depict tenacity.
Generally, overall, a determined attitude towards life.
In her texting photo she shows herself,
Holding a brief of some sort, surrounded by files behind her.
Russia, Canada, Texas, and Boston are her pedigree--
Travelled as much as I and still a mystery.
With some gentle talk and a few poems,
She might reveal her true person.

Patience, dear one.

Norumbega ('Belonging to Norway') -- The Site of Vinland? opus 426

My father (and mother) loved to go fishing,
So he took us all (mother, John, Susan, and me),
To the Charles River (named after Charles I in 1614--
Charles was only a prince then, but explorer, John Smith
Had expectations for the lad--who later lost his head--
And then came the wicked Cromwell and thereafter,
The exiled , enlightened son, Charles II.)
(This is why the new British king is Charles III!)
Lots of history where I grew up--
I shall attempt to control my being an historiaphile!

At any rate, we often fished near a 40 foot fieldstone tower,
Built (1889) to pay homage to the supposed Vinland--
A Viking fort and settlement (1000 AD) started by Leif Erikson.
As children (and once as a returning adult) we, now I,
Often climbed the spiral staircase.
The Tower still quietly stands surrounded by comforting trees.
The fishing usually produced a sunfish or bluegill--occasionally a catfish.
Our family also enjoyed, at other times,
Norumbega Park's amusements across the river.

Later, in High School (Newtonville), I took classical double bass lessons
At the Newton Music School in one of the eleven 'Newtons'.
Our 'final exam' was the School's public outreach,
Performing Edvard Grieg's Piano Concerto in A minor, op. 16.
This was my first public performance with a large audience
And it was played in the very famous Totem Pole Ballroom at the Park.
(The Park itself survived from 1897 to 1963--the Ballroom, from 1930 to 1963.)

This Ballroom was to come twice again in my life,
When my first love Seta Derhohannesian, a senior,
Invited me to the Newton High prom,
Followed by Susan White, who accompanied me for my second senior prom.

Years later, for my 50th High School reunion, I returned to the Park,
But now (2008), I stayed in the Radisson Hotel now on the beloved Park's site.
The hotel's position was near the two bear cages I remember from childhood.
That year, while there, I looked up Seta and spent some lovely
innocent time with her.
We talked birds, as she was just starting some serious birdwatching--
I remember, hearing for the first time, in my hometown, Newton,
A Cardinal's vocalization--they have shifted north resulting from the
Climate Crisis!

The Park was a focal point--not planned-- throughout my life.
It was called one of the many 'trolley parks' from the 1890's,
Where many parks were created for business at the end of a trolley line.
This park at that time, and little known to me, had been declared
New England's finest amusement park--including the Totem Pole Ballroom
Which heard the music of Miller and Dorsey echoing through its walls.
I truly have lived a life surrounded by wonderful history,
Which has obviously nurtured my mental ontogeny!

A Love Dream opus 509

I woke from a soft dream.
I was with a soft one.
The best I had ever experienced.
I was satisfied that, with our blending,
I had given her the best she had ever felt.
All couples should have such mutuality!

Seta opus 529

A Bach flute concerto plays on the air.
My first love was Seta, a flautist in high school.
Our first date was meeting and playing music at her home.
I knew her parents well; her mother,
An Armenian, soft-spoken woman;
Her father, a very short Armenian artist
At the Rhode Island School of Design.
I remember when he showed me
His plastered juxtaposition of egg cartons;
Beautifully conjoined to create an optical illusion.

Seta and I met at a 50th Reunion for Newton High School.
She had aged, but was soft and conversant.
Dementia hit and her son took her off to California.
I was never able to converse with her again.
The magic of early youth, lost at the end
In silence and an unfulfillment of words.

PREDATE--a Josh opus 542

A strange thought occurred to me
About predation or to preDATE.
If one looks in a dictionary, predate
Means only to 'come before' (PREdate).
On deeper research one can finally find
'To prey' or 'to hunt for'.
Thinking about both these meanings:
Is a date with a person then meaning
'A time before a date with a person' (PREdate)
Or 'a meeting with a person
Who will be preyed upon' (preDATE))?
Do watch out--all you young dudes!
It all depends upon the accentuation.

Another Dream Remembered opus 604

Once again, I came out of a vivid dream, most of which I recounted:
I was in a grassy suburb with nearby buildings.
She--an Indian Asian looking lovely woman--just appeared.
We walked closely and talked together. I felt wanted and at ease.
Until then, I explained, why I had not held her hand--
I wanted to be sure, before exhibiting such in public.
I gently kissed her neck and felt her soft arm.
Then, she left to do something--I know not what.
I walked up and down over grassy hills nearby.
She did not return.

As I woke, I realized the 'She' was Seta, my first high school love.
Upon further thought,
Because of the smaller nose than that of Seta's (she was Armenian),
This must have also been Nora, my late wife.
Both of these women have been indelible,
But have, indeed, forever left my life.

Seta opus 704

She returned to me after so long.
I was dreaming, but there she was in a corner of a room.
White walls;  a friend-woman standing next to her.
I softly approached and we exchanged gazes.
I gently touched her cheek with mine.
It had been so long since I had longed to see her.
I was at last fulfilled with her presence.

Then, the dream shifted; she and I were transporting pigeons,
Passing them gently into coops to live and propagate.
As soon as it came to view, the dream beautifully ended.
Her softness lingers with a fragrant mindful perfume.
I am fulfilled and might now pass on, (to meet her?), complete.

Valentine's Day, 2026 opus 760

Is Valentine's Day about a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers?
Do we really know the horror behind this 'holiday', 
As we send adoration to our loved ones?
This day is a mix of Roman rituals,
Christian martyrdom, and medieval poetry.
The roots of this holiday trace back to Lupercalia,
A pagan fertility festival held in February in ancient Rome.
Roman priests would sacrifice a goat and a dog for purification.
The goat hide was stripped into thongs, then dipped in blood,
And women would be slapped with them, making them 'more fertile'.
Young women would also place their names in an urn,
Pairing them with bachelors during the festival, perhaps leading to marriage.

As the Romans often did, Pope Gelasius 
Replaced Lupercalia with St. Valentine's Day.
One of the first stories recounts a 3rd-century Roman priest,
Who secretly performed marriages for celibate soldiers, until his execution.
Another claims Valentine fell in love with his jailer's daughter,
And allegedly wrote her a letter signed, "From your Valentine."
Chaucer romantically wrote in 1382 about birds choosing mates on that day.
In 1415 Charles, Duke of Orleans, imprisoned in the Tower of London,
Wrote his wife the earliest known valentine poem on that day.

Now, thanks to Esther A. Howland in the 1840s in America,
Mass-produced cards, adorned with lace and ribbons, were for sale.
In 1913 Hallmark Cards began mass-producing cards,
Declaring a 'Hallmark holiday'.
Followed only by the number of shared Christmas cards,
Billions of cards, chocolates and flowers are sent out
To our history-ignorant lovers on this misunderstood 'holiday'.