A Drowning Man Excerpt from Atbygordon Trainyard-2026

A Drowning Man

If it weren’t for your exhaustion and panic,

you’d be swimming now,

riding the waves, enjoying the sun.

The bottom is a distant agreement

it’s frightening, I know,

to give up breathing,

all control.

And the shore,

how easy it is to envy those

on solid ground,

taking for granted

gravity and comfort,

but that’s not important now.

You watch beyond the breakers,

dangerous creatures rise and fall.

You can’t worry

about them now,

just keep concentrating, hoping

not to drown.

And every foot the bottom refuses,

but you're getting closer

to solid ground.

Every breath insists

your lungs have not given out.

All you have is a giant sky

that rides on your shoulders.

To the east, treacherous riptide

And to the west those cold black boulders

And threatening waves.

You have nothing to save

but your time

And your breath

swim!

as if your life depended on swimming

And it does.

Your body is buoyant.

even as your mind is panicked

but another foot closer

is more than enough.

to keep swimming

versus drowning.

Stop thinking about the space between,

enjoy this moment

swimming,

Feel the cold water

And the sun

on your face,

all you have is this second,

slow your pace.

And the waves draw you near

farther from that treacherous

finality

You always feared.

What is Freedom> Granpa's Old Vintage Car

You don’t realize what you have until it’s gone. Freedom is such a vague idea when you’ve always known it and had the privilege to take it for granted.

It is a beautiful vintage car, Grandpa used to brag about. There was something special about it, but you never quite understood its meaning or what it truly represented or meant to your grandpa and ultimately your family.

He drove it in the snow to take your grandmother to the hospital when she was having their first child. It was his livelihood at one time, it was there through sickness and health, from the small apartment they rented to their first home-it was his pride and joy, something worth fighting for.

Today, it seems freedom is the ability to do whatever one wants without consequence. A license to make bad decisions without damage. “Your ideas, your music, your activity offends me, I have the freedom from having to be exposed to what upsets me”-that’s not freedom, that’s being self-centered.

Freedom is actually a dangerous idea, no handout nor safety net is attached. It is the ability to make your own decisions about your own life at the danger of being wrong, of making mistakes, of falling down.

It is one’s power to forge a life for themselves and their families without the fear of government intervention. 

Being coddled and pampered starts out as a kind concept until your destiny is governed by someone else’s judgement instead of your own. Freedom is something we all need to live along side, it takes patience and concern for other’s freedoms as much as our own.

If we look for intervention, there will always be someone to intervene. A good example is two children fighting over a toy. They are children, they are learning the idea of compromise, of sharing, of living with each other. If they go to the parents and ask for intervention, many times both will lose the toy but more importantly the ability to decide on their own. The ability to compromise, to work together, to give and take is something that takes experience and awkward mistakes.

No one will come to you and say I’m taking your freedom away….they will say I want to help you. At first it is a kind gesture until you realize you are a project of theirs and that’s where freedom erodes.

I love Granpa’s old car, I think we all need to learn about the people around the world who’ve fought and died for freedom and continue to. These days so much words are thrown around, so many agendas are in play, we all need to go back to the basics of our own freedoms and realize what makes us free, and we will realize what is so worth not losing.

October Came, with all it's subtle feelings of fear and loss. Giving up the excitement of summers to find our own time where the sky tells stories of the spring and the winter whispers where it's been.

I wish I could just cling to the season with joy, much like children do. That feeling of holidays coming and families getting together but I know the changes that come in this time. I lost my dad in September,

almost lost my life to heart disease 3 years ago and that nip in the air is a warning.

Even if it's not a warning, it feels like it. A cool breeze comes through the window, sits down at the table-we need to talk.....

Poetry is a feeling of a moment. It grows and changes depending on the season. These poems are from Purple Shadows Flame...more from the previous post. I tend to write until it stops. Usually there is an immediate impetus and then it changes.

All of these poems have to do with fighting to see a new day and yet still reacting to a season. October is a month filled with many changes, adaptations. I am excited for 2026.

59

The 6th Decade

5 more days and you’ll give away, your 50s

Are you talking to me?

He stared in the mirror separate from himself

At this age

There’s no point in calling anyone else

Except mom

She’s always there

How long you acted like you didn’t care

But time shows us our minuses

And I’ve decided to add

Add gratitude to the menu

Everyone is starving but no one would choose

The cheapest, easiest appetizer

Appreciation and contentment

But we’ve been starved

5 more days, you will see in the mirror

Who you thought you’d be

And who you are.

The specialist asks questions

Like a thread and a needle forms a quilt

Or a line and a hook catches prey

What would you like to talk about today

The counselor sits uncomfortable

When they have the scalpel

I felt my inner child dissected

And it spoke so eloquently that day

He gave up all he was willing to say

And shuddered emotionally under the weight

The counselor shared a story that day

Something that would stay with the patient

For the rest of his days

And it was marked with God

And a careful hand

A blessing, a warning,

That’s hard to understand

From Purple Shadows, Flame - Artbygordon Poetry- Volume 1

Jain-Inspired by Singer

Farewell to a Muse

Winter Speaks

An Excerpt from From Purple Shadows Flame- Artbygordon.com-

Stay tuned for a link to entire collection-22 pages of poetry on artbygordonblog.com

Memories of the Sea

Some Memories of the Sea

Galveston...I remember the shrimp boats patrolling, we were all so much younger then,

The candy apple greens and the gulls calling,

those blue wooden homes near the shore, or across the street

the sand on your feet, the sound of the hoses spraying every last bit of sand,

you'd always miss some...

and the morning coffee, a ritual,

the quiet I can barely capture these days

all the beauty of that moment

captured, in words and pictures

as memories

fade.

I want to chase the sky

to see the sun descending

and the moments biding time

I want to be a stranger in an unfamiliar place

I want no one to know me

or recognize my face,

I'm already there I guess

the loneliness gave it away

I want to disappear out in the space

the highway

the forgiving highway

guides my way.

So small we are to the sea,

so small, like grains of sand

or the petulant weed.

I remember everything said a ghost crab

at night,

I remember everything a child

standing by my side.

and the sea is so large

compared to us

so powerful

so destructive

but we never get enough.

Out on the sand, memories whispered among the gulls

so small we are to the sea

how small our disagreements

seem.

Florida

Fruits of Ruin

Passionvine

An anomaly of a flower, out of a garden of purple incarnata, one single white flower with a pink center. 

I still haven't found a second one. I can only assume a recessive gene found it's place in the universe and in a garden of purple, a solitary white bloom.