What If

by denny bastian circa 1970’s

What if there were snowmen that cried

truths that told lies

babies were goodbyes

sight had no eyes

birds that don’t fly

no reason would I

dream, fantasize

What if there were apples, no cores

good times were a bore

and twos became fours

if ceilings became floors

and highers became lowers

no need anymore

would I dream and adore

What if there were mountains, no trees

if love meant chastity

if what was, couldn’t be

if to come meant to flee

and if you became me

no need could I see

to dream, fantasy

The Journey

you were conceived
a stream
the tears of a mighty glacier
from rocky crevices high upon
the towering grey mountains
gave you
a beginning to me

I wondered,
marvelled at your
cascading waterfalls
breathing deep,  aah!
your fragrant alpine odours
refreshed me
I cleansed myself in you

till you became
the river, deeper and wider
flowing steadily, with some purpose
through rich valleys and farmlands
ever on to some unpredicted place, I
sailed upon you

like a
young riverboat captain, I
charted each bend, narrow, and eddy
always careful to memorize your course
should I ever need
to come back this way again
I carefully mapped

my determined voyage
to the sea
your pounding, breaking waves
on rocky shores
frightened and confused me
and yet, small moments of
moonlight calm
on glistening cove waters
sheltered me
from the storm

I loved you once
when I took you to me gratefully
then, but I was
always nervous of your immensity
and confusing moods
perhaps it was that
I saw myself
in you
perhaps the journey
always ends at the sea.

Fantasy

apple strudel noodles
chicken and dumpling pie
in the land of the make believe
fantasy go I

orange pekoe pancakes
teddy-bears with my tea
in the land of the make believe
fantasy I see

lemon pizza footstools
pudding made of jam
in the land of the make believe
fantasy I am

one fine day of infinite time
reincarnate I shall be
in the land of the make believe
fantasy of me.

The Night
by denny bastian circa 1970’s

Beneath the sparkling stars
and the midnight moon
I am free, the darkness hides
my inner thoughts, unruined

I am truly alone
free to listen to what I feel
free to be the man
that I think I could be
free to be the child
only darkness shall see

my conscience is eased
my soul wings like a bird
to friend with the dark
I speak and am heard
for the dark asks not why
or tramps upon my feet
nor dictates what I must do
neither lies, nor robs, nor cheats

the night accepts my faults
I’ll end just the same
should I ruin of myself
then only I am to blame
so, we all have our nights
dark places to hide
to whisper our secrets to
a good friend we confide.