Apple Butter

Across the seas in an old clay jar

A journey vast, a journey far

A small seed hidden amongst the cargo

From Portugal west, on past Key Largo

Then north she sailed on up to Boston

Yet on the manifest the seed was not on

Unloaded by porters, kept in a warehouse

Narrowly escaping the jaws of a mouse

Purchased by a farmer unknowing

The treasure he would soon be stowing

In an old barn in upstate New York

The jar set next to an old hay fork

One day the farmer’s wife decided

To use the jar (with the seed inside it)

What she didn’t know as she washed it out

The washed out seed would one day sprout

And from the seed she’d one day see

The blossoms on an apple tree

The farmer and his wife were most delighted

And to their farm many were invited

To come and taste the many treats

Which started with an apple seed

Strudel, pie, and like no other…

The family favorite: apple butter!

For you never know along life’s journey

Which direction you might be turning

And you may not know if you’ll survive

‘Til your vessel is emptied, you gain new life

God the Father redeems what once was lost

It wasn’t free, Christ paid the cost

Tell others of your perilous journey

How you were lost and even hurting

Then tell of how your heart does blossom

How one small seed became so awesome

How God’s hand was always on the rudder

Brought from peril to hope and endless wonder

That’s what it’s like to know you’re saved

Especially after the way you behaved

To know God had a plan all along

To bring you though, grow your soul strong

Once lost, now saved, and like the apple butter

You are indeed a gift, bless one another!

By Royce Waxenfelter
10/14/24

Contained

Glass full of echoes
Tote full of tears
Cup full of memories
Mug of cold beer

Scoop with my wishes

Boot with my cries

Pocket of mystery

Plenty of lies

Halo of happy

Hand full of hope

When they get low

I drag and I mope

Heart full of blood

Pumping around

Eyes full of wonder

Ears full of sound

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

A mountain of loss

A room with no view

A burden of sorrow

To ponder and chew

Utterances astounding

Secrets untold

Why do I keep them?

They taunt and they scold

Bowl full of questions

A thimble, a wish

A simple concoction

In a petri dish

To grow and to wither

To blossom and die

A brain full of missions

Keeps wondering why

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

I vase full of lonely

A briefcase of fear

Toolbox of letters

I hold so dear

Bucket of boasting

Wheelbarrow of shame

Dreams of beyond

Held in a satchel too tame

A harbor of bitterness

In my journal of regret

Baskets bestow love

A well so deep I forget

Box of old pictures

Tray of lost names

Clipboard of schedules

Voluminous games

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

My wineglass of joy

Is brimming with glee

My thermos of mocking

Regulates me

Barrel of pointless

Tankard of trash

Saltshakers compassion

A sprinkle, a dash

A salute to the teachers

A nod to the wise

I harvest and gather

The sunsetting skies

Cleverly doing

What I must do

To capture in vessels

These thoughts I issue

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

By Royce Waxenfelter

8/7/24

High

“What does he know about it anyway?” Sully thought to himself as he pondered the discussion he had a half-hour ago with his old man about the dangers of “hard drugs”.

The scene replayed in his head as he drove down the winding, poplar-lined road.

His dad had found ‘the Blue bullet’, Sully’s stubby, sapphire-colored aluminum pipe in the pocket of his jacket when he’d borrowed it from the coatrack to walk their dog Rinky earlier that morning.

“Oh, please! It’s just pot, dad! It’s not like I’m a junkie. It’s as harmless as a garter snake.”

“I’m not saying it’s crack cocaine,” his dad reasoned, “but it’s not you at your best. I love you enough to know when you’re missing your potential.”

“I feel like it helps me reach my potential, have you thought about that?” 

“How so?” his dad asked.

“It’s kind of like a key that opens up my creativity. It puts me in touch with my natural ability, takes away the push of society’s unfounded demands, brings me into focus on what should be, you know?”

His dad let out a sigh and responded, “That may be how it makes you feel, but the truth is, you are and always have been the most creative person I know. You don’t need to use any drugs to be you. You are amazing without them.”

“Sorry I turned out to be such a big disappointment to you!” Sully quipped. “You just don’t get it!”

Sully grabbed his jacket from his dad’s hand and stomped out the front door.

His blood boiled as he drove away. He was a little embarrassed, sure, but more so, incensed. The nerve of someone telling him who he should be! How he ought to live, to feel! Ugh! 

“Okay, relax man, take a breath, don’t let that old fool get to ya,” he thought to himself. “Take a toke and relax.”

With that notion, Sully pulled over next to a quiet nature park. He got out and found a secluded picnic table under a massive oak tree. He refilled ‘the blue bullet’ and lit up the fresh sticky bud, slowly taking in a big hit, holding it in his lungs. He closed his eyes and counted to twenty before exhaling. Sully gradually tilted his head back and soaked in the bright green of the backlit leaves. He imagined the colors washing away the anger, the embarrassment, the bitterness. 

“There, that’s more like it,” he thought. He tapped out the loose ash onto the picnic table, took in a big breath, and blew the tiny pile away, a symbol of life’s old restraints now a thing of the past. He smiled, relieved.

He sat a few minutes and made a plan for the day. He’d go into town to see if his buddy Tad would go with him to the beach for the day. He could use a non-judgmental friend today.

He got back in his car, turned on Pink Floyd’s ‘Pigs on the Wing’ and sang along as he drove into town.

Sully waited until he was parked to take another hit. He liked the way it made him feel. Not quite numb, just a slight tingle. Relaxed. Like the world slowed down by a millisecond. Slowed to the speed it should be. Sully’s speed. He liked the way his body felt a tad bit lighter, like he was on the verge of floating. It was a sprinkle of euphoria.

He took a satisfying deep breath and stepped out the door of his white, convertible Dodge Reliant K-car. Sully heard the horn of a truck… a millisecond too late.

by Royce Waxenfelter 

7/30/24

To Arkansas

Horse hair on barbed wire

Humid and dust

Traveling, my thoughts and I

Come move with us

Orange juice in the Frigidaire (TM)

 Mustard and crust

Traveling, to start the day

On a school bus

Cedar smell and fire flies

Burning the brush

Traveling, shot through the sky

Companion trust

Brahma cows and hominy

Scarring at dusk

Traveling, we'll scrape and peel

The tractor rust

Copperheads and corn bread

Tornado gust

Traveling, my thoughts are fed

While shucking husks

Traveling, my thoughts and I

Come move with us

Traveling, shot through the sky

Travel with us... to Arkansas.

by Royce Waxenfelter

9/30/91

The Voice of the Israelites

God heard the voice of the Israelites
And this is what they sang
They sang “Bring us back to the mother land
Away from this mud, straw and clay.”

I saw the daughter of pharaoh be a businesswoman 
She went down to the bank
Well she drew out a little prophet and
Delegated Miriam as her maid

I saw Moses grow up a conqueror 
He led armies to victory 
But deep down inside never satisfied 
His true people weren’t even free

When he watched an Israeli get beaten 
He took matters into his his own hands 
When he killed with bare hands the Egyptian
He knew there’d be no turning back

He ran far away to Midian 
Forty years in hiding
God appeared in a burning bush
To remind him of his true calling

God had heard the song of the Israelites
And this is what they sang
They sang “Bring us back to the mother land
Away from this mud, straw and clay.”

God sent Moses and Aaron to Pharaoh’s place
They bargained to free the slaves
But Pharaoh refused, he’d gotten used to
The monuments they made

Moses gave Pharaoh ten reasons
And said “let my people go.”
Pharaoh finally agreed but upon their release
Hardened his heart and said “no.”

He sent an army to chase them down 
With chariots and horses we’re told 
But God parted the sea for His people to flee
Then crashed the waves on the army who rode

After forty long years of wond’ring 
They crossed into the promised land
God had answered their song like He’s done all along

So sing to Him one and all
I hear the voice of the risen Israelites
With angels in great harmony
They sing “We’re no longer bound, God turned sin around,
Through Jesus: eternity!”

By Royce Waxenfelter 
5/11/24
To the tune of Saint James’ Infirmary

Reckless Breakfast

Extremely viral

Downward spiral

Cautionary tale

Glutton dairy fail

Very reckless

Bed and breakfast

Unheeded review

Slurped “surprise” stew

Hostess lacks her

Saltine crackers

Extended vacation

Unknown duration

Firsthand witness

Spreading sickness

This endeavor

Wish I never

 

By Royce Waxenfelter

3/21/24

Maui With You

Mahi Mahi with an ocean view

I get a smile when I look at you

We love the ocean and turtles too

I like to be in Maui… with you. 

Stroll down to the beach when the tide is low

Can’t escape the pull of the undertow

We watch surfers and a whale or two

I like to be in Maui… with you. 

And next time… yes next time…

We’re gonna do things different again

New adventures, where should we begin?

Maybe take trip south down Kehei way?

Will the water be as blue as Honolua Bay?

Miso Phat sushi on the balcony

Steady show of rainbows for you and me

Purple pancake breakfast and papaya too

I like to be in Maui… with you.

Do a little shopping at the ABC store

Kukui lotion and a whole lot more

The weather’s nearly perfect and the view is too

I like to be in Maui… with you.

And next time… yes next time…

We’re gonna do things different again

New adventures, where should we begin?

Take a snorkel tour to Molokini?

Or lay along the beach in Ka’anapali?

Best banana bread in the whole wide world

Freckles surfacing, your hair is curled

Just like the waves out in the ocean blue

I like to be in Maui… with you.

Duck into a lava cave at black sand beach

So far away right now, seems out of reach

But we’re going back again, you know it’s true

I like to be in Maui… with you.

By Royce Waxenfelter

1.02.24