2023 · Poems

“Radio Static”

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“Radio Static”

Indigenous Light Forms ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

percolating crackle

amplitude frequency

word soup white noise

dial left or right

neither correct

more crackling

static fizz a bushy business

a puffing storm cloud

potentially kinetic

ozone whiffs waft

waves winderly windy wind

air conducts

a symphony of forms

ideas conveyed and received

broadcasted boldly brave

looking for certain

sentient life

a dark star cosmos

avoiding unavoidable gravity cones

spinning ceaselessly

expanding horizons

eventually

no true exit

only entering the once

transformed universally

so all can listen at the receiver

here to hear

 

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Outstanding”

Christopher Hickey1 Comment
“Keeping Watch” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Outstanding”

Sometimes it’s hard to stand out

Standing up for others that can’t

Backing down bullies’ braggadocio

There are people out to hurt others

Afraid to help others

And ignore their suffering

Enjoying the struggle

Yet—

Some still stand out against that

Hands outstretched

Elevating others

Those are the ones…

That stand out

For me, for you, for all

Standing for righteousness

Standing on

Standing up

Standing out

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Alone From Me”

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“Open Air” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Alone From Me”

I don’t know how to be

In a place—alone from me

Sustaining sanity

A misleading reverie

Impatience patiently

In a place—alone from me

Existential parity

Haunts this lucid waking dream

A calm collective calamity

In a place—alone from me

Isolation bursting seams

Old companions take their leave

A desert mirage fleetingly

In a place—alone from me

Unsightly vision still unseen

Alone…alone…alone from me

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Resolution Infinitive”

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“Daisy” © C.P. Hickey 2022

“Resolution Infinitive”

When you can’t run…

All you want to do is run.

So, run when you can,

Because you never know when you will be unable to run.

 

Three hundred sixty-five days ahead with which…

To live, to write, to laugh, to think, to reflect, to act, to try, to experience, to fail, to succeed, to mend, to discover, to assist, to uphold, to care, to help, to learn, to mourn, to discipline, to develop, to grow, to understand, to listen, to empathize, to give, to invite, to allow, to celebrate, to cuddle, to create, to read, to human, to celebrate, to guide, to teach, to hope, to weep, to hug, to hold, to grab more from the universe than you were allowed

To grab more from the universe than you were allowed

2022 · Advent Adventures: 24 Doors of December · Christmas

Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-fourth, 2022

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Advent Adventures: The Door to December 24th, 2022

Christmas Eve

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“28 ST. MARTIN STREET”

My advent calendar project hit a buzzsaw called Christmas Present. Christmas 2018 swallowed me up, and I couldn’t spare the creative space needed to close out my project. I back ended some pretty important memories to the end of the calendar for dramatic effect and because it is emotionally hard to write about these things. It leaves me exhausted, yet grateful for such heavy lifting. Please forgive an ambitious man for a late delivery. Sometimes when you let something marinate and breathe a bit, it becomes better for it. I certainly hope so. I am blessed to have lived through many treasured moments in my life, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t express how very warm and full of heart I become when I recall these times, our times. Merry times, happy times, unknowing times, taken for granted times. Holding short moments for a fraction of time. We simply inherited a sense that tradition is and always has been important. It is a gift from those that came before us. It is a gift full of wisdom and righteous remembering, and the action of choosing to be together. Blending family and the precious commodity of time creates magic. The town where I grew up was small, but seemed large to me as a child. It is full of history, and I could walk to any of my near relatives homes within 3-5 minutes. This reality provided me with a false sense that I would always have this convenience of access throughout my life. It wasn’t until I set out into the world that I experienced how small my world truly was and just how lucky I had been to have had such access and time with my closest relatives growing up. It’s not the kind of thing you become aware of, until it changes. Life moves, life breathes, nothing stays forever, and that is why upon reflection of the holidays of the past, I warmly remember Christmas Eves spent at 28 St. Martin Street with the special people you see in the photograph above. Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, a Christmas Card/Invitation would come to us from Uncle Mike, Aunt Donna, and Cousin Christy. It would invite us up to their place at 28 St. Martin Street, to celebrate Christmas Eve. Festivities would begin promptly at 6ish. We’d meet, eat, make jolly, and tell stories of the past year. It was a great pre-cursor to Christmas Day celebrations.  Much of the revelry would take place in the kitchen, as it generally does in Irish-American households. Never entering through the front door, but only through the back door, which you would arrive to after you had to walk down a short walkway abutting the house.  Generally, those visiting knew to come to the back door. If they didn’t, we knew they were strangers. Many great Christmas Eve’s were spent in the company of the Hickey’s, the Lane’s, The Connolly’s, The Warner’s, The Blakie’s, The Dowling’s, The Merullo’s, and any and all that I may have neglected to mention. I’m so grateful that we were a part of something so memorable, that has sustained the fire of memory in my heart. The ghosts of Christmas Past are never too far away.  Although, we’ve lost some of fellow travelers in this life, our family still sustains. We are so lucky to still have opportunities to gather, and we make great use of the examples of living revelry that are evidenced in the photograph above. I look at all of our eyes in that picture, and I see a million different stories and thoughts. I never knew I would be where I am now, but I know for certain that it was a damn wonderful thing to be there then. Merry Christmas to Aunt Donna, and Cousin Christy. Thank you for sharing your home with all of us, and for creating a lasting tradition. Whenever I look at this photo, I know how perfect a moment can be, and how very precious it is to capture it. Carpe Diem!  Love to Richie, Irene, Paul, Kathy, Mike, and to all of us that have remained glowing in their memory. 
2022 · Advent Adventures: 24 Doors of December · Christmas

Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-third, 2022

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Advent Adventures: The Door to December 23rd, 2022

Bah! Humbug!

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“TWAS A BOB CRATCHIT KINDA DAY”

‘Twas a Bob Crachit Kinda Day. Nose hard to the grindstone. No tuppence in my pocket. Hand dampened cold, Chilling my bones down. Doing the things I must. O’hers depen’n onnit. Christmas wages all but spent. Peace and hope. Hope and peace. I’ve seen a courier. A scene by Currier and Ives. Salvation Army Bells. Silver Bells. For whom the bell tolls. Clearly, me. Uh-huh! The Christmas Spirit. Visiting as needed.  Once, twice, thrice, And done. But…nothing changes.   If you fancied this post, check out another recent one: Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-second, 2022 – ProCrasstheNation  
2022 · Advent Adventures: 24 Doors of December · Christmas

Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-second, 2022

Christopher Hickey1 Comment

The Door to December 22nd, 2022

 

The Legend of the Turkey Platter

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The Legend of the Turkey Platter

It is known in these parts, that when my mother left my father in the Summer of 1995, she left with the clothes on her back and this turkey platter. In a sense, I find it brilliant. Basically, 🖕🏻, I’m leaving and I’m only taking this plastic platter with me. Of course, this is a gross reduction of that circumstance, but for the purposes of this blog, it serves. It will definitely make it into a story at some point. For all my parent’s troubles, they loved each other and loved us. Life sometimes upstages young love, and causes it to grow apart, and that is okay, because they were both able to find happiness after that part of their lives.

But I digress…It is also known that the platter is rumored to be in one place, believed to be in another, and it remains to be determined if the photo you see here is of the actual platter. I may or may not have this platter. It may or may not be the real platter that accompanied my mother on her trek to the South Shore of Boston. My Stepfather may or may not have this platter. My Sister may or may not want this platter. I’m awaiting a visitation by three spirits on Christmas Eve; at which point I hope to have the answer to any and all questions regarding my mother’s cherished service ware. We should have tucked it in her casket, or at the very least, had them carve it into her headstone.

If anyone does or doesn’t have information regarding the whereabouts of this platter, please feel free to send any and all leads to my sister @ phickeysplatter@gmail.com

And please, only serious leads and information wanted.

Check out a recent post here: Advent Adventures: The Door to December Twenty-first, 2022 – ProCrasstheNation