The Lost Poem

The rushing sun-flecked rapids sang the words,
Complaining oar-locks told it to the lake;
Its rhythm was the winged flight of birds,
My stumbling footsteps followed in its wake.

'Twas finely etched in candle flame at night,
The clinging oak leaves lisped it as a prayer;
Away from earth and toil, by starry light
Its shadowed pathway lured me unaware.

That lightly whispered song too soft to learn,
In haunting tones pleads temptingly ahead;
'Twas lightly held, escaped nor will return,
But memories dear now comfort me instead.

-William Malewitz, Songs Of A Beachcomber

The height of felicity lies in simplicity.

Maturity

Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain of wheat; but if it falls to the ground and dies, it brings forth a great deal of fruit. You and I, and every human being, is like a grain of wheat. We have goodness, fruitfulness, talent, and ability within us. The big difficulty, keeping us from realizing our potential, is that, like the grain of wheat, we have on the outside a hard shell. Our shell is always some for of selfishness. Selfishness can take strange forms. It can be self-defense. We try to do good in our life and we get hurt by other people. Our attempts to do good are rejected. We retreat into a shell of self-defense. We hesitate to attempt anything good lest we get hurt.

Our selfishness can take the form of self-pity. Poor me, nothing I do is right. Everything bad happens to me.

Our selfishness could be more obvious like booze to excess, drugs, sex outside of marriage, ect. It could be anger, bitterness, hatred, revenge or dishonesty. Evey sin, for that matter, is selfishness.

But what does Our Lord say we must do with our hard shell of selfishness in order to live a fruitful life? It must fall to the ground and die. How much of our selfishness has to go? All of it! If we could bury all of our selfishness in one day and get it over with, it would be easy. Since this is impossible, we have to bury the grain of wheat ever day. Then only will we live fruitful, happy lives.

If we refuse to bury the grain of wheat, Christ said, it remains just a grain of wheat. In other words, we remain in our shell of selfishness and in that shell, we love no one, not even ourselves, and that is really what hell is.

When two people get married, it's like burying two grains of wheat side by side, and hoping they will come up one. They psychologically must leave their father and mother and cling to each other, and the two become one. This oneness is not achieved until both bury their selfishness totally, after much sacrifice. If they, through selfishness, just hurt each other, instead of becoming one, they end up two people walled off from each other by their thick shells. The more they irritate each other, the thicker their shells. We must indeed learn daily to bury the particular forms of selfishness that form our shells. Only then can we live fruitful, happy lives.

- William Malewitz, Songs Of A Beachcomber

Song, The Sword

O storm stalked sphere, awaken!
Crimson clouds blot out the Son.
Song's cushioned, cased in velvet words,
A stifled thing.

O song forged sword, forsaken!
Battles watched are never won.
Young men, unsheath thy swords, let words
In battle ring.

O rust dulled barb, long hidden!
Softened song has worn thine edge.
Cease resting, rise in flashing light,
A keener thing.

Can swift swords strike unbidden,
Slashing strew that tangled hedge,
Slow, choking earth in twinings tight
As "isms" cling?

O bard, peace lulled no longer!
Clasp thy pen, send forth a song.
Bright, gleaming clear in tones of steel,
Thy words let spring.

Thy pen's clean blade make stronger,
Whet its edge. Set right the wrong.
Foil singing, cleave the air and feel
The strength it brings.

- William Malewitz, Songs Of A Beachcomber

People die in bed.

Imprisoned Soul

(Inspired by seeing an eagle caged in a zoo)

Pinions preened in mountain gales,
Storm sheened, swept smooth and glossed.
Talons cooled by cloudy trails,
Fire eyes, wedged wings wind tossed

Noble bird! Thou Freedom's sign,
Cage cramped, dull worn with dust.
Spirit free, untamed, designed
Sky king, earth bound by lust

Weak thy wings by worldly cage,
Flex free, escape and fly.
Soaring strength a battle wage,
Leave earth, world bonds defy.

Eagle soul to vistas soar,
Wheel wide, breast winds and glide.
Free soul to heaven's shore
Speed, sky winds feel and ride.

Pining spirit, prisoned bird!
Skies call, fresh winds entreat.
Freedom dwells above assured;
Earth's murk, world force defeat.

-William Malewitz, Songs Of A Beachcomber

There are too many administrators in the Church, and not enough pastors.

Sunset

The sun's last longing look at the quiet cove
Caught a heron soaring slowly o'er the lake.
Day paused to meditate, a birch before her eye.
Earth seemed to contemplate the day about to die.
The lake, lest left alone, with caresses strove
Mirrored trees to charm till moon and star should wake.

A water-lily slowly her petals closed.
Dusk clad beauty silent stood. Then soft and low
Her vesper antiphon intoned. With plaintive strain
Nocturnal nature's dulcet tones joined in refrain.
The chanting swelled as song was in song inclosed.
Velvet shadows softened, gilt with sunset glow.

Reluctant rower slowly in rhythm rowed
Shoreward. Chapel's silent spell was strongly felt.
The stirring symphony, the soft enchanting light,
Incense, a rhapsody, intoxicate delight;
This finely-formed cathedral, God's abode.
Reverent the rower lingered - nature knelt.

- William Malewitz, Songs Of A Beachcomber

You may be a diamond in the rough, but if no one discovers you, you never get a chance to show your light.

Songs Of A Beachcomber By William Malewitz

"A Beachcomber is a restless searcher for treasures other men may have lost. The search for truth and beauty must be ceaseless. Poems or songs as they are sometimes called must be lived before they can be composed. Some from college days represent the hopes and ideals of youth. May the thoughts and ideas found along the many and varied shores of life by a Beachcomber bring you joy."

- William Malewitz