tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53455745084422360932011-07-30T16:13:42.917-04:00*(New Poems...and, then some!)*William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.comBlogger701100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-30545188262752356572009-11-10T16:26:00.004-05:002009-11-10T16:30:41.287-05:00

Your body has become inspiration enough,like gathering together a private mapof my world, transfixed in a moment, coming and going; arriving and departing, at times,when I see you, in dream.How do you do it, keeping yourself present while absent?The very air you breathe, when we're breathing together,pulls me closer, inward and outwardit goes;and, we lie, spread out,in

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-41213942369485980162009-10-22T03:18:00.004-04:002009-10-22T03:32:18.149-04:00

Sometimes,There are half-measuresThat shine.Build on thisWhen wordsCall to you.Expand from these small things,Because, life awaits.Every wordMay be importantIn their place.~x~William.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-83210768426979134312009-10-05T20:26:00.002-04:002009-10-05T20:32:15.793-04:00

Today was a pretty special day for me:I've completed a 2nd book of poetry, a companion volume to "The Wind Shall Hear my Words..." [entitled: "...and, The Stars will speak them."]. The book includes some of the poems that have been posted here, as well as some that have gone unpublished.I hope to send the finished manuscript to the publisher on October 9th, 2009.As I always say, "onward & upward."

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-75792024045963925082009-10-04T21:18:00.002-04:002009-10-04T21:21:16.259-04:00

In the other room,a piano, softly, plays.**I'm watching the clouds now;shifting shapes,slowly,drifting along,with my thoughts......Your fingers, on the keys,brush the elements: a body of motion, you've seemed.to me.**As clement,is this beauty,a touch, pierces the heart. The softness of skin, lingers,in each subtle touchof melody......and, You are here,....but not.**I'll open up myself,to Nature,

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-47293868892208911812009-09-27T11:19:00.002-04:002009-09-27T11:34:31.733-04:00

I've been asked to writeabout happiness:Smiley faces, and babbling brooks;Or, the pursuit of happy books--Evidence of timely things, stacked upon the shelvesAnd,Giving the goose to childish things.Sometimes, the glee is tamped-down,And there aren't any cheerful moments.It is the nature of life, they say, to be as rollicking as a roller-Coaster;As large in its emotions as an ocean of tears.Happy

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-35776758035513781772009-09-26T13:55:00.000-04:002009-09-26T14:29:20.735-04:00

The way you Hold your headin your hands;an upturned, saucy, smiletells me all.I want to be consumed by you;each moment,tied to you.Your embraceis what I long for.Your face,in my hands.......Kissable lips,so lightly, Longing, To love. `x~William ~~Copyright 09/26/09

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-24707104570441891062009-09-23T15:00:00.008-04:002009-09-23T18:51:14.829-04:00

I'll begin with the word, "untitled"; its transparency, and its invisibility,Heavy with whatever meaningYou'll will it to be. The world will enter here,Just as unknown, as long as we let it be.I want to treat each word as a jumper upon a trampoline;Reaching for the heights, the stars. Keep on, in your den,Because even the untitled find their place,Never untouchable,In their richesAlways striving

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-14785608259056495062009-09-20T11:00:00.001-04:002009-09-21T10:52:40.737-04:00

[music for "staycation"]I'm taking a short break in blogging & being online.See you all, once again, in two weeks.I need a staycation*, badly.`x~William. 09/1109.* A vacation, close to home & inexpensive.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-5070030012148454022009-09-16T11:42:00.000-04:002009-09-11T12:04:18.068-04:00

Somewhere,betweenKatrina and nowwe hadlost you.The remnants still linger,and time doesn't stand still;even though, we mayat times think it does.It is just a trick of the senses,casting out its reel,and latching on,without knowing whatthe surface holds.Those years,stacked up,carry all the weight of changes;some more subtle than others.The memory of youis a fine thingsolid as brick.In my life,

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-11030697758602233832009-09-08T13:17:00.009-04:002009-09-11T12:03:31.354-04:00

It's always best not to set your sights too high;Feeding small animals, or a walk in the park, is enoughFor one day.You can smile,While admittingThe years you've worked;Capturing each patchOf crab-grass in your hand,Each moment reached, breached,And, bridged by concentrated effort.The world will not be still any longer. There aren't any silent momentsIn the City; however, you can wander thereEven

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-27618613787222330882009-08-27T07:40:00.000-04:002009-08-27T07:43:07.439-04:00

I'm nevertoo quickto clean.I like my dust,because it reminds methat I'm stillliving.And, this......Well,it makes mehappy.`x~William ~ copyright: 08/28/2009.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-44300367535243231492009-08-17T18:37:00.006-04:002009-08-18T01:36:53.834-04:00

Of course,you're different.we all were,back then,when wewere your age.Words were different;and,they carried more weight:a bright bit of typewrittenwords seemed solid, lastinginto a Summer's day,when being solitarybrought rewards.You're finding your voice,reaching for stars.We were waiting,back then,same as you;something that breathedindependence--loving anddifferent--like you.`x~William H. Balzac

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-83860978213715553522009-08-14T10:09:00.004-04:002009-08-14T10:31:58.886-04:00

It steps in front of you,saying, "What's the meaning of this?";throwing down the gauntlet of its immensity.Somewhere, a bird lifts itself from the branch,hovering for just a minute.Then,like a tribute to progress,swoops low over a fisherman,reeling in a bass.You must capture the momentlike this.In life,you'll find,all of the fleetingness of numbers enacted in the shadings,between dawn and

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-46626685839563898862009-08-10T14:13:00.007-04:002009-08-11T08:49:51.030-04:00

In life,you only havecontrol over so much;asking only nowto get from Point Ato Point B.Nature, ongoing,falls back upon itself;never seemingto love a vacuum.There will alwaysbe anotherbus.Doesn't it feel good,letting the raindropsfall uponyour tongue?`X~William ~copyright ~ 08/10/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-45940875435392950702009-08-07T10:33:00.004-04:002009-08-07T11:56:22.660-04:00

Working your way outwardyour words seem indistinctof meaningsthrown togetherlike a mosaic of many colors.Everything falls into placeeventually.Time loves a consistent objectiveand abhors dilly-dallying,procrastination,and small words.Some people"Speak softly,and carry a big stick."Others, more reserved,by far,bring to the tablethe same-old patterns,attached to faulty wiring;a house,of many voices

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-66279016448371049672009-08-03T20:04:00.002-04:002009-08-03T20:13:30.765-04:00

In hand, beneath your armpit,the marbleand black bindingcarries an unrecognized heft;a school-boy's trial with Englishskirting 'roundstreet-cornerslike an unlikely teacher's pet.These days,I still write with an eraser-tipped pencil,diligent notes;the hand,as quick as the eye,and, the wordsas precious as marble.`x~William ~ copyright~08/03/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-82532716009496770862009-08-02T00:06:00.001-04:002009-08-02T00:09:04.984-04:00

Where do the words come from? In stillness and quiet Every simple thing is set in stone Never to be taken away The explication and application a wandering voice Given freedom a chance to breathe comfortably upon the page`x~William ~ copyright: 08/01/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-47994870844487462672009-07-31T22:01:00.003-04:002009-07-31T22:19:56.302-04:00

It seemed simple, how you walked the earth, carrying his rib into your future. The Earthworks were small then; battlements, and barricades were invisible, without any thought to War. The pastures were your magic carpet, laid out, spread across miles and miles of green. In the heavens, the big guy looked down in wonder, re-making all the rules of Temptation a blue bit of Knowledge for the coming

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-89219566262468809172009-07-20T13:52:00.003-04:002009-07-20T14:18:11.269-04:00

Being tenants of this Earthwe gave praise to spaciousness,while filling in the barrennesswith mud-huts and sticks.The challenge and promiseto advance, gave sunlight new meaning:Fields tilled; berries picked; and,weather reports, occupied the farmer's thoughtsFor stretching into Spring seemed an eye's-blinkof each great leap of an accounts book'sfigures.I often think of Armstrong's hand;the way in

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-15674565645578563822009-07-19T15:45:00.003-04:002009-07-19T15:52:48.941-04:00

To live, and not be afraid.To be all of who you are,and all of who you can be.This is where the "rubber meets the road";the timeless forward march sees us through.Only to live,without curses or shouts.And, only to love,as the poets do.`x~William ~ copyright~July 19,2009.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-3930476423155605252009-07-10T11:06:00.003-04:002009-07-10T11:28:52.512-04:00

The past can be a blessing or a curse. What advice shall I give? Is it a wanted thing;now peering at the world with a jaundiced eye? Capture kindness in your hands, before you leap. Open yourself to the rough and tumble. Play the game of love with reciprocation Enjoy whatever the light or dark brings you. Move forward, little one, and carry the good of all that is given.love as always, William

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-74852804428438714452009-07-02T17:01:00.003-04:002009-07-05T20:28:29.183-04:00

Love as always`x~William.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-43727998364275288352009-06-30T14:13:00.003-04:002009-06-30T14:52:41.952-04:00

Only a long walk would've brought me there;gathering lines and half-forgotten rhymes, along the way.What had I learned today?:You've got to be careful with time,never to slip back too farinto illusions, fully formedalthough, remade.There, upon the path,I'd stumbled,in making new memories;turning leftand abiding to my right,with History all around me.`x~William~~~ copyright~ o6/30/o9

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-89496956626058712702009-06-29T16:23:00.004-04:002009-06-29T21:30:43.629-04:00

I sit in one of the divesAt Jone's Beach Uncertain and Celebratory As the clever hopes lift me above The low dishonest decade: Waves of empathy and compassion Circulate over the brilliant And darkened sandboxes of the earth, Obsessing over private lives; The unmentionable gossip of death Offends the June night. Accurate court-reporting can Unearth the whole, bloody, offense From

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-24134036558745656882009-06-28T18:33:00.009-04:002009-06-28T19:03:56.122-04:00

When we've gotten to the endit'll be very easy to say,these sure did hold up wellMaybe, a bit grainy,in the subtle shiftsas the There and Thenthrottles itselflurching,Forever intothe Here and NowWe see the beanstalkamongst the cabbageslifting its lofty headabove all the restThe smile,ever a cock-Eyed optimisttaking in all of the Orders,knowinglyWho was it, by God,behind the camera,hands quite

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-15241788758502431542009-06-27T03:27:00.003-04:002009-06-27T17:35:08.778-04:00

My degenerative eyesscan the horizon.Troubled wordswaver to and frolike dust motes,half-quotes,and, lapsed Catholics.My syntaxno longer bothers me. Everythingis taken instride.The billsare paidnowwith closed eyes.`x~William-copyright 06*27*09

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-79769943323333318822009-06-24T20:32:00.002-04:002009-06-24T20:44:21.428-04:00

For one brief momentthe veil was liftedand, no more cudgelswere blocking your sight;no more, chanting,shatter the night.Falling, from the shoulders,you were surelyrising; reaching,unseen,by Our eyes."Be not afraid,"spoke a familiar voice:Older,Wiser,Courage.......Swift in flight,forever, now.Look!One,white dove,Reborn,to a songofFreedom.**`x~William~Copyright~6*24*09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-65212180134093533332009-06-19T17:54:00.002-04:002009-06-19T17:58:24.106-04:00

Aquarius Your focus drifts from yourself to others -- possibly to the world as a whole! Your great mental energy should help you figure out some new way to make a real difference in others' lives.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-78233530014985840932009-06-17T18:36:00.002-04:002009-06-17T18:43:40.740-04:00

Now,there's some new grass up,where there used to be dirt.The Old tree,in front,tells a new tale;leaning,in its top-most branches,and,budding further awayfrom its Winter lashings.Later,I sit in my tee-shirt sleeves,praising the warmth on my face;writing of the ripples upon water,or,the stories, within circles,withintrees.`x~William. copyright~06/17/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-52277492930172573002009-06-16T15:53:00.002-04:002009-06-16T15:58:51.570-04:00

Note:Sometimes, you just have to let go.**"Poetic Analysis" :I am the stone in my father's shoe;the tall-boyin the studybeing crowded outby the ElephantinThe Living room.~Love as always,William. copyright~6/16/09. 3:58PM.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-38789764297301208842009-06-12T08:14:00.002-04:002009-06-12T08:28:54.081-04:00

It's all a matter of language and place:each ripple of the waterleaves tracesas they fade,inevitably,from the surface.So many skiffs have traversed the shore,seeking companions;stargazers, with compass in hand.Each day,truly is a journey.The landlubber sees beauty in this.`x~William. copyright~6/12/09

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-76601317559697875702009-05-23T21:31:00.002-04:002009-05-23T21:37:52.360-04:00

You may have to turn up the volume...just a bit.[I swear, I did not intentionally set out to sound like an English Gentleman on Masterpiece Theater: "Re-GaaaaaaaRD!" ~lol!

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-30657161401050812962009-05-23T09:10:00.000-04:002009-05-23T10:34:21.446-04:00

If I told you,You're a superhero,would you believe me?You're not the "Oh-oh-oh,"zerosin a comic book balloon.[No, you're so much more valuable than this;and, quite frankly, the betterment of society is at stake!]Each one of you have the power to change the world;your journey begins,not in some far-off-place,but here, on solid ground.Carry goodness in your heart and mind,and justice will see you

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-87148032085374495822009-05-10T11:02:00.000-04:002009-05-10T11:05:01.672-04:00

~x~William. 05/10/09....11:04AM

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-37545124825514748602009-05-05T11:20:00.001-04:002009-05-25T09:11:04.987-04:00

Beyond his door-step, is where he'd find whatever the world had to offer him. It wasn't time for fear, or the thrusting out of perspired palms.In keeping with ideals, hard fought, his vision carried losses, only the strong-willed could see.On his walks, the inclement land renewed itself,and the old trees sheltered him.Many years of schoolyard anticsbuzzed his awareness,turning insects into object

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-35971156999231031072009-05-04T11:30:00.000-04:002009-05-04T09:59:16.580-04:00

I'm a big-time reader. I love reading and writing with a passion. Every two weeks I check two books out of the library. I read the blogs in my Google Reader (sometimes, I comment..sometimes, I don't; however, if I don't comment that doesn't mean I wasn't interested or captured by what I'd read. There have been times I've been rushed off the computer and I've gone back to the site and re-read...

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-36814275349561513212009-04-13T08:46:00.003-04:002009-04-13T09:00:10.705-04:00

Tune in to Discovey Health on Monday, April 13, for the program Mystery Diagnosis, which will feature a segment on Marfan syndrome. This is an in-depth piece that will highlight the difficult Marfan diagnosis journey of NMF member Michael Murray and will leave viewers with important information about Marfan syndrome - what it is, how it is diagnosed and how it is treated. The NMF is grateful to

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-57261597053284781342009-04-08T07:27:00.001-04:002009-04-08T09:08:48.787-04:00

In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts on my Novel-in-progress. You'll find an excerpt from Part Four [see:blogroll, or Profile page]....Have a great weekend.PS: 4/08/09 : I'll have another "Favorite" posted tomorrow [Thursday!]....Here's a new favorite song/Video for your entertainment!"Click Me"`x~William.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-68649188322801969602009-03-30T17:57:00.001-04:002009-03-31T21:51:40.098-04:00

It would be music that sustained him;long nights, and burstsof breakingthe silence.Somewhere,between sunsetand sunrisehis thoughts returnedto far-away people;solitary beings, just as relevant as he.He pauses the song,mid-lyric,and reaches back with his mind;a calm containerof wishes.`x~William / copyright: 03/30/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-48326771349440587132009-03-21T10:43:00.004-04:002009-03-21T11:41:09.887-04:00

...it may never happen."In my mind's eye, I can still see her;a shimmer of doubt,settling itself,upon her face,--recalling, with forgiveness,every fearful prognostication,falling upon the heads of childrenlike me --her old,wise eyes,reaching pastthose words--so perfect in their comfort--calling herto task:a wooden plaque,indelibly fixed;a gift,she'd bestowed uponthe living.`x~William ~ copyright-

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-38387461953123681092009-03-19T22:59:00.006-04:002009-03-19T23:52:54.482-04:00

Lifebecomes busyin Springtime:Each word readis plucked from another river,embracing,inscrutable genius.The skyis a restfulthought,pillowed,till the 'morrow.`x~William ~copyright 03/19/09

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-11979764111287326272009-03-14T21:49:00.007-04:002009-03-14T23:33:34.744-04:00

Note: I've been doing some reading today. Ummmm, ...this is going to take a lil bit more time.This is what the "Favorite" award looks like:Stay tuned. ...after 12 a.m. (EST)....`x~William.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-49811300770689835062009-03-12T23:54:00.007-04:002009-03-27T16:29:48.175-04:00

recently, Lil Bit, awarded this to me!Here are the rules: “These blogs are exceedinglycharming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-85991733842687683972009-03-10T00:03:00.000-04:002009-03-10T00:06:04.730-04:00

`x~William.03/10/09.[12:04AM]

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-13123584409943240402009-03-07T12:01:00.002-05:002009-03-07T12:06:20.432-05:00

"Ifpoetrywere all sweetness and lightthere would not be a voice for generations."

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-49426664618842682052009-03-06T11:49:00.004-05:002009-03-06T12:15:42.279-05:00

Have I said to you everything that’s needed to say? ** While the words pull at me, a spent cigarette smolders in the safety-tray, a car moves, screeching, up the road, and, somewhere, a kid confronts the probable conflicts of the street. ** Have I told you of all I worry about? All the worries of my mis-spent youth, calling back to you; recalling the presence of doubts and fears,and the unasked

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-14451318769846845192009-03-03T12:12:00.007-05:002009-03-09T19:42:47.173-04:00

...everything is just as it was and always will be.She sleeps in a blue colored dovecote and runs through green colored fields, getting closer;pulling me closer,endlessly, into her arms.Somehow, we always awaken together:Shared, merged, a fantasy, uninhibited, and sipped like a new glass of red wine.**Her eyes behold the same things I've taken in.Our merging, has emerged, in Love.WHB~copyright 03

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-33376593408194553482009-03-01T23:29:00.004-05:002009-03-01T23:37:35.147-05:00

Just for a momentquiet yourselfand listen :So much of unknowinggives birth to a gem.**The Voice,so familiar,is cherished as Kinfor knowingThe WhatbeforeThe WhereforeandWhen.WHB~copyright 03/01/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-57216249514157216222009-02-21T14:24:00.004-05:002009-02-28T10:37:30.776-05:00

Defining love, we fell into the journey. Freud was looking over our shoulders, chastising, with little understanding. Adam awoke and the Universe sang. They could not stop in the naming of things. Around midnight, the few sparks gathered in an open meadow. These fierce pebbles debated the validity of fire. The water-carriers chirped in defense of the fields. Somebody, held them in check for

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-25666370426776520532009-02-18T22:31:00.003-05:002009-02-21T00:08:59.975-05:00

...try something new.If I do,don't be afraid.Every thing of newness has its rewards and punishments.When I began,I was nothing more than a dribble-filled saucer's worthof half-formed articulations and each vowel sound was musicto my mother's ears and when the time came for over-abundance I let looseand decided,quite rightly,I might add,to say some thingnew.`x~William H. Balzac ~02/18/o9~10:43PM.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-7955818618212471822009-02-14T12:27:00.002-05:002009-02-18T20:52:00.660-05:00

In these Uncertain Times We need Poetry. We call the shotsand call outthe bigger-shotsas they floattheir Golden parachutes.Somewhere,between para-graphs writtenand simple-man wisdomWe see Ourselves...Us, merging with them;as luminous as OurWords.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-1764365375249510002009-02-11T23:10:00.000-05:002009-02-11T23:11:31.653-05:00

Let me write myself in a corner and, dare to call it my own: Its textures were dimpled at birth; and, the eyes have always had it. Let whatever wisdom carried refashion more stately clothes. ** Let the Light that shines on all be ever in my grasp. ** I praise this day and my lonely soul and whatever its captured; its worth. WHB~copyright: 02/12/09.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-41016126825084810602009-02-03T11:49:00.003-05:002009-02-03T11:52:34.321-05:00

I’ll tell you I’m working on it and you’ll know I’ve never lied;each small stepsends ripples, circles, outward from this place.There is no better comfort than boldness in times like these;times, bespeaking, unsteadiness.There is also the age factor to be wary of:On solid ground,your footfalls are leaving small tracesof your Soul.[Do you not know this? The path widens your perspective, Child. Open

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-38059269975318997132009-01-30T13:38:00.003-05:002009-02-22T14:37:49.699-05:00

There are moments, I know, when nothing can be expressed;no words spoken, aloud. The failure of language becomes completely exposed,like the maple tree in my front yard,leafless and cold.**We set such a premium upon the spoken word,little knowing the history its seen:Old, black, men on porcheshave taught.Even, in the pauseand taking in of breath, silence has its place.**When my silver-tongue

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-24042785718453110732009-01-26T05:58:00.002-05:002009-01-26T06:04:32.817-05:00

Left to my own vices I entered uncharted water. The nightly news didn’t help matters. Each morning, I’d awaken, unshorn of warmth: More of the same spent feelings, fallen to the floor.*****************************01/26/09~copyright~wbalzac.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-32244902624756015912009-01-24T00:05:00.001-05:002009-01-24T00:06:17.526-05:00

The feeble-minded will still be taken advantage of.The middle class will still be impelled to look downward,Angel.The boxcar will only be a memory,fading in the distance.The peddler will forever be knocking on the backdoor.Someday, my princess will come.I can play around, and laugh, all I want.All I need is moreimportant.In between trains,my sight transcends clarity.The stiff-fingered boywrites

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-32347774683361251632009-01-22T04:43:00.004-05:002009-01-22T04:46:26.516-05:00

I'm in a really scattered mood. In every word, my dear, you'll find a blessing

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-65972804481727739662009-01-20T01:04:00.002-05:002009-01-20T01:06:34.841-05:00

~x~William H. Balzac (and, "PoetHeadsUp" @YouTube)

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-11062581191795649812009-01-09T00:04:00.005-05:002009-01-09T00:23:41.952-05:00

Powered by Podbean.com We can question Ourselvesuntil the last breath,never knowingall the strugglesof Others.***I've carried the suitcaseof your Life:The walk to the Station,and the ride,on the tracks,Home.***[Silently,in my Heart,I recognized the Child.What we experienceis not a burden,it's a Life.]***Motion, commanded,day-by-day;forward, pushed,with a Devil at

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-81275816226708763102009-01-05T00:00:00.001-05:002009-01-05T00:02:02.210-05:00

A Poet,is constantlyin Transit.Like you,in your best of times,your worst of times,the World listensas it turnsforever forward.We see the endin Beginnings,And in Transit,our Wordsliveon.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-72502820765205802332009-01-03T12:42:00.004-05:002009-01-03T12:45:54.765-05:00

Thankful: In every writers life there are those who touch, inspire, and encourage. A book would not be complete without a dedication & acknowledgment to the people who have brought so much to the written words I’ve managed to give voice to. ** And so, before the words are read, or spoken, I enscribe these words upon the page, With,love ** Dedication: ** For,

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-55289336117859681392009-01-03T12:01:00.002-05:002009-01-03T12:07:54.974-05:00

Loneliness pushes past the settled–coming to rest like a fallen leaf. ** Eventually, we might see an expansion of riches: ** Blown bits of our misfortune;lifted by Angelsor, an unknown opportunity, crying for tomorrow. W.H.B.~01/03/09.~revision~11:59AM.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-34077738442846034692009-01-02T07:51:00.001-05:002009-01-02T07:53:46.430-05:00

"It's in the air"~x~William.01/02/09~7:53AM

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-73462465879174002502008-12-23T22:13:00.003-05:002008-12-23T22:17:37.849-05:00

~x~William H. Balzac12/23/08.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-78092744306420586532008-12-14T11:14:00.002-05:002008-12-14T11:19:35.050-05:00

Expect change.Something to bask in,gather,or even throw away.I'm movinglike clouds....alive in your eyes.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-79398314343915571362008-12-06T14:04:00.002-05:002008-12-06T14:09:08.330-05:00

A MUSICAL INTERLUDE!(...love these lyrics. "This is my gift to you."~~Czeslaw Milosz~ from: After Paradise")[book now on Amazon (.)com & Barnes & Noble (.) com. Music Playlist at MixPod.com~x~William. 12/06/08~2:08PM Comments?????

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-57676243527555762342008-12-02T20:37:00.009-05:002008-12-30T12:06:53.334-05:00

The Moon,hanging likea clean, bright, fingernailin the skyCalls me to workJust a little bit harderthan yesterday.12/02/08~W.H.B.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-19644775713440266122008-11-28T00:21:00.004-05:002008-11-28T00:27:43.703-05:00

*On His Blindness*When I consider the bulb burnt out I cannot see it.Ev'ry night is a struggle in the room with a viewAnd my only talent is the nakedness I hide--Scorning me, in it's youthfulness unseen:An Unspent coil, a snake, to serve my Maker,far from the Garden wall...There's no accountingfor it......Lest, he return, chilled.Why is God a day laborer,and all Darkness on Sunday?I fondly ask..

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-68105946395016951542008-11-19T23:32:00.001-05:002008-11-19T23:36:19.473-05:00

William H. Balzac11/19/08.

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345574508442236093.post-20627142510635429812008-11-05T22:51:00.003-05:002008-11-05T23:23:46.601-05:00

On Monday, November 10, 2008, my small book of poetry will be going to print.This blog will be devoted to new poems.As soon as I receive word about web-availability for purchase of "The Wind Shall Hear My Words..." (Publish America.com) a banner will go into the sidebar.Thank you, for stopping by.I hope you will return, read, and comment.This Site is open to all.Enjoy & please feel free to e-mail

William H. Balzachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10751383649935883535noreply@blogger.com3