A chilly wind blows, in from the east, and wraps the flag all around
Tightly wound clear up to the left, till not a white star is there found
He loves to see its proud waving glory, the red the blue and the bright
The crimson past for which it still stands, is hid when wrapped up so tight

The breeze changes, unwinding the flag and it opens up clear to the right
Stripes of red and majestic white stars, resume their waving in flight
The old man sits and watches in wonder, as the flag does its dizzying dance
It always seems to come back around, when given the time and the chance

He remembers what it stood for, so very long ago, when the troops they rolled into France
The tears in the faces of liberated people when they gave our flag its first glance
He thinks about the struggles it’s been through, in the many years since then
The past it proudly and well represented, long ago, so far way back when

Now he sits in his living room chair and stares at the flag just outside
The waving and twirling and wrapping around, as if its enjoying the ride
Many a leader has been in the white house, while the flag proudly waved up above
Some like a hawk protected our country, while others were more like a dove

Some leaned left and some leaned right, the balance is important to see
But one flag has flown high above them all… the symbol that we are still free

David Kettler

5/21/10

This is another poem that my Mom inspired me to write. She told me that Dad used to sit for hours in his chair in the living room looking out the big front window where the flag would fly everyday. He always would comment on it wrapping up from the wind and then unwrapping around the other way again with a slight change of direction in the wind. She wondered if there was a poem in that idea and I though about it for almost a week. I wasn’t aware that it would come out so political but I also enjoyed thinking spiritually about the banner over us which is Love. A gentle breeze opens it up beautifully but too strong a wind from either direction can wrap it up as well to where we miss the real meaning of our flag!

 I’ve built a lot of fences in the backyards of my life
To keep out complication and to keep out all the strife
They say they make good neighbors, those walls of wood and stone
The ones who make the bold proclaim have fences of their own

To keep the good dog in and to keep the bad dogs out
To muffle evening arguments who knows what all about
The fence it stands in wind and rain, a barrier of sorts
Holding back the outside world, the imposing rude retorts

Two by fours and rusty nails, hang there on upright posts
Cement and block all stacked upon the row of concrete hosts
My view extends just but a ways till stopped by barrier sound
Could I not gaze so far beyond where not a fence was found

Other eyes I have succeeded in stopping from their probe
But wouldn’t isolation bring an awful lonely globe?
The higher I have built my wall the less my garden grows
Brilliant sunlight just outside but shade is all it knows

The corn and carrots have been stunted in their growth
Along with me the recluse tenant who identify with both
So bring the wall down just a bit and wave a friendly smile
To your neighbor just behind the wall of defense and of guile

Let the sun come pouring in and let the garden grow
Pet the neighbor’s friendly dog and only then you’ll know
The wall that keeps the trouble out will keep the trouble in
When it starts to be torn down…life will just begin

David Kettler
  Well let’s see….the beginning of summertime in Bakersfield. Sitting outside on a cool Saturday morning or maybe sipping ice tea on a warm evening. Looking right into a wood fence complete with sprinkler stains and all! I guess this is where I started thinking about this poem. Anyway, I enjoyed writing it about as much as the sitting outside thinking about it!  
This also is one of my favorite poems.



 

 
Deep crimson clouds meet the darkening sky

The moon gives a crooked little grin

Each star in reverence, is standing by

While the planet parades through its spin

The fire of summer has all but gone out

The cool of fall has set in

The season’s cycle is turning about

Or did it just only begin?

The night is so still, there’s hardly a sound

From trees as they stand there in awe

The birds they are silent in the branches around

Amazed at what they just saw

As the sun slowly fades disappearing from view

The palette turns darker it seems

With deep shades of autumn in rich amber hue

The color of heavenly dreams

Darkness is patiently waiting we find

As the scene unfolds below

Standing in line just a little behind

Where deep purple mountains all glow

The cast now bows to a standing ovation

As the curtain begins to come down

On the other side… of God’s great creation

It plays in some other town

 

David Kettler, 10/26/09

 This poem was inspired by a drive out to Bryan & Linda Bones house in October of 2009. Bakersfield was treated to a magnificent sunset that I have not seen the likes of since Kona Hawaii in 1981. The next morning I awoke early as I often do and this poem came crashing out like ocean waves. I love reading this poem because when I do the whole scene comes back in vivid color.

 

 I work like a dog in the Bakersfield heat

There’s a pain in my back and a hurt in my seat

My legs they are sore and my feet they are numb

And that pound in my head like the beat of a drum

The good book it says that a man who won’t work

Well he shouldn’t even eat … that old lazy jerk

Not word for word but the meaning you get

You work for your keep and your family is set

I really don’t mind doing my part

But it seems really dark the earlier I start

And when I finish the sun has gone down

The street lights already are painting the town

The days they all melt into fatigable one

My work never finished the job never done

When my sore body at last hits the hay

The pain in my shoulder just might go away

I’m so excited my head it will spin

Because tomorrow morning I start all again!


David Kettler

Written 5/20/09

This poem just came about one morning when I was so sore that I could barely get out of my chair. I can’t even remember what I did the day before but I remember that it was a very full day of hard physical labor! Mom says that we get the work ethic from the Rodreick side of the family. I know my brother Dick sure has it, even Mark says that he can work any of us under the table!    

 Clouded peak obscure from view

Mediocrity might have to do

If ascension joins the few

Why procrastinate and stew?

Journey’s start with single step

Steady work and promise kept

Others climbed while I have slept

Making me feel quite inept

From the mountain you’ll look back

To clouds of doubt and courage lack

Rocky slopes and storms of black

Will appear along the track

Success is grand, the view is great

Ignore the comments others make

Fuel the fire each step to take

Find for yourself…just what’s at stake

So take the plunge, start the trail

Don’t let sidelined friends derail

Goals just waiting to prevail

You will succeed…you will not fail!

David Kettler

Brett was asked in class to write a poem about climbing the mountain of success. I found it difficult to give him direction or advice on how to, or what to write. Very early in the morning, around 4:30 AM, I wrote this one. I think writing poetry is a bit like climbing the mountain. You start at the bottom, you stumble and work at it and eventually you write things that you yourself enjoy reading. This poem very much came out of my own experience of both the mountain top and also the clouds below. You can also say that it has a spiritual and financial application as well. From the valley to the mountain and back down again the path of life seems to lead. I like to think that no matter where I am in life, the mountaintop is the goal. Looking up where the sunshine, fresh air and great view are. I hope someday that my boys enjoy writing. Beautiful writing and reading are like beautiful music, they seem somewhat timeless.

I’m almost half a century, three hundred days till then

The kids would think that I was born, a way-way-way back when!

A lot has passed under the bridge, the time it has flown by

Seems like so many moons ago, I heard my babies cry!

Like it was only yesterday I was riding on my bike

Building jumps in the field next door, the neighbor did not like

With his big old tractor, he plowed them down so flat

But never could he crush our will, our spirits or our cat!

She was the one who had nine lives or was it even ten?

She loved her kittens and us kids just like a mother hen

The carousel of time did turn and next the scene was east

Thirty miles to Riverside where urban sprawl had ceased

Living with the scent of oranges and my lovely bride

We worked like dogs and lived like mice, and still enjoyed the ride

Next the ride had turned again and home was Bakersfield

College gowns and sporting crowns were but the latest yield

Now I sit almost empty nested, staring at my wife

Wondering how we got so fast to the halfway point of life?

Maybe I’m wishful thinking like I’ll finally reach the day

A hundred candles burning bright will warmly have to say…

You best had enjoy your birthday cake…

before the fire burns it away!

David Kettler
June 2010

 I wrote this almost a year before turning 50! Brenda says that I have issues with turning fifty but I like to think it is just another number. Just another milestone on the ride that is called life. Do I think about getting older? Absolutely! I was writing poems on aging and mortality probably in my twenties! I guess it’s kind of like my Brother Mark’s philosophy…think about and plan for the worst and you are always pleasantly surprised by how much better things turn out than you anticipated! I like to think of life kind of like a football game. Here you have Brett Favre who is old as dirt and still playing! From all of his wisdom and time in the league he knows that the linebacker is blitzing, and he knows to step to the right at just the right time…but his forty something old legs just won’t move quite fast enough so he gets sacked anyway by the twenty something three-hundred pound, no experience, brain-dead youngster! After the game though, Favre has a smile on his face and an “awe-shucks” we’ll get em next time attitude! Maybe fifty is actually the beginning? We are now equipped with enough smarts and experience that we can actually begin this crazy journey? I’ll tell you the people who give me great hope. They are the eighty something’s that have a great attitude, a smile on their face and lots of hope for a great future! Fifty is not halfway to the end…fifty is just partway through spring training with all the wonder and glory of the real game still ahead!

 

Cup O Joe my Cup O Joe!

The morning starts with

burner’s glow

Take it black with cream or no

aromatic in it’s ebbing flow

Time to go my Cup O Joe

holding forth the armrest stow

Quiet moments fainter grow

before the day’s shrill whistle blow

Lunch is passing hither fro

naptime dreams or bosses crow?

To the break room I must go

hello my friend…my Cup O Joe!

Dusk comes marching in a row

dearest ones to Starbucks go

More than coffee now you know

Precious time with friend or bro

Pals that share are in the know

With me my cup…my Cup O Joe

DK

 I wrote Cup O Joe in December of 2008. I had the idea of putting together gift baskets for my family and including a poem with each gift. With the coffee cup came the poem Cup O Joe. I’ve always thought about the fact that it’s more than a cup of coffee. It’s the jump-start in the morning, it’s the warmth on a cold day, it’s the friendship and conversation in the evening. The cup of coffee is often the excuse for the activity. I remember three day Harley trips with my brother Mark and the fun of blaring up to a Starbucks for a riding break. The idea of Cup O Joe was the thought of it being like an old friend…always around…just old Joe!