Lover's Key, Florida

Lover's Key, Florida

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Tuesday, June 26, 2012


It’s as though we ride the crest
of a perfect wave
knowing well
the dangers of other waves
that crash on shores
of death, destruction, disillusion and despair.

Our hearts speak a deeper truth
we float as one
on an infinite sea
where endless waves
carry us along

John A. Bayerl, June 24, 2012

How can I write about this new phase in my journey without dishonoring Gwen?  Yet, how can I not write?--holding true to my promise to attempt to show the world what a long, lasting, loving relationship evolves into, even after the death of one of the partners.  Having once been blessed with that kind of love, I now find myself again in the gentle grip of one who completes my life in ways I no longer thought possible. 

Days are filled with laughter, and teasing and flirting and fun. Laughing until there are tears in our eyes--at silly thing.  The other tears; the memory-filled healing ones, still come, but not as often.  What were once long, lonely nights are now filled with dreams of better things to come, more stories to be told. All this because a mutual friend said, "there's someone you should meet."

Love comes as a surprise, Dear, we knew and lived that truth.

Thursday, June 21, 2012


Once again I see the world
with happy eyes
thoughts, once dormant,
arise now
of possibilities and potentials—
the gift astonishes—
feelings of joy
are once again rampant.

 All this because

she appeared
In my life
thought my thoughts
felt my feelings
took the chance
said let's explore
what may lie before us
have some fun.

still a constant companion
relinquishes sole possession
of my heart. . .
as it must.

John A. Bayerl, June 19, 2012

It's been a while since I've written anything.  This poem is a joyful celebration of the permanence of life and love.  She has a name.

Thank you, Dear, for giving me the faith that love is real and never ending.  

Monday, June 18, 2012

Just a little humor.

Outside a small Macedonian village, close to the border between Greece and strife-torn Yugoslavia, a lone Catholic nun keeps a quiet watch over a silent convent. She is the last caretaker of a site of significant historic developments. The convent once served as a base for the army of Attila the Hun. In more ancient times, a Greek temple to Eros, the god of love, occupied the hilltop site.

The Huns are believed to have first collected and then destroyed a large gathering of Greek legal writs at the site. It is believed that Attila wanted to study the Greek legal system and had the writs and other documents brought to the temple.

When the Greek church took over the site in the 15th Century and the convent was built, church leaders ordered the pagan statue of Eros destroyed, so another ancient Greek treasure was lost. Today, there is only the lone sister, watching over the old Hun base.

And that's how it ends:

No Huns, no writs, no Eros, and nun left on base.

It's been a while since I've posted anything to my blog.  My life is in flux; as things become more clear I will need to write about it.

The gift we shared, Dear, that love still lives.

Friday, June 8, 2012


Friday evenings, especially soft warm ones like right now, carry memories that only two people shared--Gwen and I.  During the long year before we married it was when we were back together after a week apart.  The gift  I now have is the memory of her running from her front door and throwing her arms around my neck.  Many people have memories like that; only I have the memory of holding her close, filled with emotion, words were neither possible nor necessary.

Tonight is made more special because 49 years ago our months of waiting were over and our happiness was complete as we met at the altar of  St. Mary's Church in Gaastra, Michigan and exchanged our wedding vows. This is a picture I took last summer.  It is the aisle that Gwen walked down and the altar where we met as two and left as one.  The church is now part of the Iron County Museum:

Happy Anniversary, Dear.

Monday, June 4, 2012


Feeling once again
 like the unsure boy of his youth
he knew so well
he struggles to be
the suave, sophisticated
man for the ages
others tell him he is
as he wanders about
in a world he left
long ago, never thinking
he would return to that place
of fierce, sudden passion
unexpected, unrelenting heartache.

The love of his life
the one he misses always
said the words
that took him from  all that
it mattered not
in her way of being
that she couldn’t explain what she felt
only knew it was real and lasting
and they rode off together—
why didn’t he ever buy her that horse?—
into the sunsets of endless days.

As she hoped it might be.

The sun has set
a new day arises
he once again fumbles for words
is intrigued by the smell of perfume
strains to hear a voice
that makes his heart sing
longs to touch and be touched
feels stirrings anew in his heart
sees new possibilities.

      Now the beginning.

The ending
the past
is still present
will always be                                                     
the present stays
shrouded in mystery
the future pulls at him
inviting him onward
he knows she is there
arms open wide
cheering him on.

John A. Bayerl, June 3, 2012

To tell the truth, I have no idea whether this poem is ready to be just felt like the right thing to do. Friday is Gwen's and my 49th wedding anniversary, I'm sure that has  a lot to do with the more than normal reflective mood I've been in lately.  

This may be my last posting for a few days.  Today I received news that my best buddy in high school--in today's parlance  we would have been my BFF--died of cancer.  When I was in Menominee in January for my cousin Ray's funeral, the priest who married Gwen and me, I had the chance visit with Rick and his wife at their home.  Also, about six weeks ago, when he was first diagnosed, I was able to have a long phone conversation with him.  

Dear, we always enjoyed our visits with Rick and Carol when we were in Menominee.  Wonder what you and he are saying about me?  's all good.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

DAYBREAK, by Gabriela Mistral, Chilean Poet

My heart swells that the
like a fiery cascade may
The new day comes.  Its coming
          leaves me breathless.
I sing like a cavern
I sing a new day.

For grace lost and recovered
I stand humble.  Not giving.
Until the gorgon night,
           vanquished, flees.

This poem reflects who I feel like today, it is  a poem of such hope.

Once again, Dear, you let me know that you are with me.   I was down at my desk waiting for something I was printing to be finished.  Your high-school graduation picture is on a shelf next to the printer, and when I picked it up to look again at how pretty you are a sheet of paper with this poem on it was beneath.