True Love of Coffee

Memorable friends

Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Blog, Daily thoughts, Friendship

For some,

a moment is all we have.

Whimsical moments

that happen only once.

Coffee, tea, music, cigarettes.

Walking in the park.

Laughing at ourselves.

No need to have reason.

Just a second,

that sliver of time,

when we live,

a moment to remember.

The decision of compassion

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Friendship, Survival

The inescapable loss of compassion is impossible to dismiss. Sometimes you casually find a stranger at a loss beyond words. Sometimes those words are so evasive even you cannot hear them. Sometimes they come from someone you care about, and the futile nature of being human holds you in a moment where nothing feels more than the second you are in.

Great literature says it best shortly, with quotes like “He dies.” Yet I do not read those words today. I have chosen to experience the rapture for what “it is”, rather than what it could be described “to be.” Such simple, unfettered, and agnostic words become everything I could try to say “It is, to be.”

The words do not make anymore sense to the home of a heart consumed in dismay. Whether it is the child I speak of, while crying in my heart as they rain tears upon a face that should not know such sadness, or if it is the sound of someone lost in thoughts running rampant across a tide of unbalanced emotion- all I can brutally say, in an attempt to have my humanity restored, quietly, “it is, to be.”

Someone will understand these words like I do. They may fall upon a thousand eyes that are gazing away from the harm our humanity brings us, but the gentle souls, the kindred spirits finding themselves giving hearth to the homeless, will surely know, that our faith will one day change this words to “It is, to decide.”

The Handshake

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Friendship

I am, a humble gentleman.
Kindly tipping my unworn hat,
as if the frequent stranger
was my kindest friend.
For all that I was,
would I not be something more,
if only I was wise enough,
to open each and every door.

What more could I be?
The last time I say hello,
the first time I said good-bye,
to which my friendship has no degree.
Appareled and adorned,
without anything but to be polite,
and my hand is unborn again,
as if I grasp you for the first time.

To which I am thankful

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship

To my friends, the family you help me build,
every single one that has heard my voice,
read my words, shared my hopes and dreams,
or even found themselves somehow sharing this road,
No matter how far, or how little our time is,
I need to tell you something,

I am not perfect, nor do I care to be.
As if anyone can be, it is my truest family,
the friends who I know, and who know me.
I do not shy away from the moments I share,
as they become portions of everything I adore,
giving me memories that I can only be grateful.

I give my thanks to my friends,
the creative souls who inspire me,
and the caring hearts who believe in me.
I hold them near myself, as closely as I can,
knowing it is their very love that gives me strength,
to give them my gratitude, making this world a better place.

I give my thanks to you with heartfelt emotion,
a tear in my eye, and a smile on my face.
Caring enough that you are warm and happy,
peacefully content with this exact moment,
I give my thanks to you, for being who you are,
and for every second we have ever shared.

Lost Friends

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship

I wrote a total of thirty pieces this weekend, mostly wandering around the river and talking to friends. It was a good weekend to sit back and relax, listen to the river and the drums, and to remember what life is all about. By saturday night I had nearly lost my voice, but I managed to pull off at least a few melodies for the camp.

To The Troll

Lost friends,

When I was a child,
with a creative heart
full of youthful fantasy
and things you could not see
You were my friend,
The grumpy old troll,
to which I was not scared.
For you made me laugh
and made me believe
in friends like you and me.
As I step, one stride at a time,
I remembered that rhyme
whispered from beneath my feet.
It made me wonder and feel
to know friends could be so real.
So when I grow up without growing old,
I will not forget, you have my word.
Nay regret as I reach the end,
This question I have, I am not scared
Could I afford, my carefree friend,
would you let me cross your bridge again?

Friends

Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Coffee - Volume Two, Friendship

Friends
I had dinner tonight with a friend and while I often have a comical nature in person, I believe in sharing ideas and moments.

Sometimes those moments are within an idea: to define my idea of friendship, of hope, and of faith. There are few people in the world who share such things, few people who connect and have good hearts and faithful hope of the future, people who care. So, to my friend who leaves for Chicago. Good travel, bright future, and a thousand hopeful wishes for you. Live well, Laugh Often, & Love Much. Life holds an amazing future.

Friends,

Are the people in life,
who fight the good fight,
and stand by your side
when no one else cares,
or remembers.

They are the tone
of perfect harmony
in a chorus of chaotic melody
where you try to stand out
and only can with their help.

Friends are,
without pretense
or false doubt,
they are the fiber
of everything you believe.

They do not care
for trivial collections
or meaningless action,
and they cherish every second
of worthwhile silence.

Friends are the people
who define life,
by staying true in hard times
and good,
or moments of simple hope.

They are the ones who have faith,
in who you are,
the ones that keep you warm,
when your eyes are closed,
even when they cannot be there.

Friends are, simple.
Honest,
True.
They believe
in everything you are.

If I could have one friend,
or many,
I would wish,
again,
To have another one like you.

The way people live

Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts, Dreams, Friendship, Honor, Survival

I don’t get too much time these days to stop and smell the roses, sometimes however sweet they are. Rather I ask myself if I remember what roses smell like. Ironically, I find myself lacking that memory. People often fail to realize if they will miss the moments of life they love, and yet I look at things and find myself terrified of losing even my past, the warm scent of life that made me smile.

What does that mean? it means I actually miss the people I care about. I miss them a lot. Unlike many people who take moments of living for granted, I take every second as if it were a treasure… the kind you would covet as a child and hide away from all danger, both real and imaginary.

This is not something that passes, for me at least, part of who I am is locked in a moment of perfect clarity. In a fear of forgetting every perfect moment, I sometimes find them haunting. Yet I feel that strange desire of actually having something worth holding, something worth sacrifice and triumph. Something worth the very tears that remind me how my heart feels.

I find myself struggling on a daily basis to reach the goal of being triumphant… of feeling it… and when I try to succeed I am aware that my efforts were too late… that I failed. Realizing I have failed someone I cared about is brutal reminder that my duty is not something that I can ignore or that I can set aside. I am better than that.

Some people refer to me as a healer, a person of serendipitous nature and exact purpose. I am a catalyst of sorts, the person people interact with to produce a reaction of unusual results.

This leads me to a question that has been asked of me before, “what is my purpose in life?”

I seem to be a conduit. Something that is not a destination, but a place of action where one does not stop. My nature provokes people into moving from A to B, and there are no stops where I am. That has always been my life, a place where people never have time to smell the roses.

I feel like I am a rose. The kind of blossom that stands by itself against the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise and be embraced by a moment of warmth, only to acknowledge that the moon and stars will soon replace the vibrancy of life that keeps me warm.

Perfect little stars. The gemini in me realizes that duality better than most. Perfect and brilliant speckles of hope that keep me hoping that the sunrise will soon make me warm again, that the beautiful night sky is a place that feels too alone.

I promised my daughter a long time ago that I would never give up on people I care about. I do not let my dreams die so easily. That is a far more difficult realization than I care to admit. Failure is not an option. Allowing my dreams, my promises, and my hopes to fade away is simply something I will not let happen.

So I keep moving. I try to explain some things, and I leave some things without any explanation as I push myself harder and faster. The brutality of caring for people often leaves me left uncared for, but that is my life. I know what will or will not kill me. I am a survivor… a catalyst that serves a purposes for the things around me.

I will always care. Honestly and wholeheartedly. Even when I the world fails to give me time to say it, I will always remember and honor how I feel.

Peaceful

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Friendship

I once spoke to an older man, who said with quiet words
“live life, not for yourself, but for the moment in front of you that will be remembered.”
The man was insane at the time. Yet now I know how true he was.

I was not his student. No I was just a casual friend who called him by name.
Yet I do not remember his name, only the bad smell of cheap cologne he wore at night.
Like his voice, it was not a thing you would forget.

If I came across your profile

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dreams, Friendship

If I came across your profile,
would I wonder about you,
whether you enjoy the background,
the music that no one else hears,
or if you stand on the stage of life
and scream into the crowd.

If I came across your profile,
could I dare to think it defines you,
the way you eat breakfast in the morning
or laugh at whimsical musings like this.
Should I care to understand more,
or click once more to the next.

If I came across your profile,
should there be a glimpse of who you are,
I would hope so, enough that I befriend you,
as I ask myself what trivial things we share.
I do not know, I just wonder,
should a stranger like me even care.

If I came across your profile,
your smile, your eyes, the favorite color of life
with the people that you define as “friend”
Do you know how much they care,
if I came across your profile,
would you even know I was there?

Cloudy Dreams

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dreams, Friendship