My friend Dave grew up in California. He lived in a time when the world was turned upside down as it was questioning the mindset. He did drugs, Viet Nam, prison (for drugs), multiple marriages and breakups, homelessness, self-expression through art and writing.
Dave is a self-taught artist; I wish you could see some of his art (most of which has been lost). Dave's expression in the arts has come from duelling with life. His poetry, which spans decades, is heavy hitting.
I appreciate Dave because he mentored me when I re-entered the world of poetry after a twenty year hiatus. I don’t think I would have had the confidence to blog poetry had it not been for Dave's constant encouragement.
Enjoy the poetry of
Dave Holloway
The Last Days
by
Dave Holloway
In a grand finale
almost vengeful air
the sound mind
slowly slipped away
yet a youthful gleam
shone crystal bright
through cloudy eyes
that saw too much
of a beautiful world
that grinds to dust
the wicked core
of self righteousness
still plaguing a corner
of a mind now loss
but sweetly surrendered
to a nurse’s care
and a garden view
where baby quail
pick and peck
their stomachs full.
Copyright 2010
A 100 Years Ago
by
Dave Holloway
Romantic as it seems
A century ago to me
Seems a dark and cold
Miserable time to be
A shower to a tub
A toilet to a pot
Ice for the few
Sitting at the top
Time slowed down
Farm life bleak
Sweat is the reward
Cities all reek
Medicine crude
The dying just die
In the world I see
Through my own
mind’s eye
I wish I could direct you to Dave's website. Though he is published, he is a purist. Poem, pen and paper are preferable to computer and social media networking.
A writing question for you: What role has a mentor played in your life as a writer?
