Thoughts For Days Gone By
by Antone G. Pimental
Published by the Gronicus Press in 1969




To Times Gone By

As the memories start to fly
We'll hail a toast to times gone by
We'll build a bon-fire great and wide-
or send a toy boat with the tide.

We'll give a laugh for foolish things-
These memories that fly on wings-
For the sad and lonely of the past-
We'll be happy for their having passed.

For the joy and happiness-
That has been bestowed on us-
And for everything that's happened
Whether or not it had been planned.

We'll be thankful for having made it through-
Through the grayish skies and into the blue-
We'll hail a toast to those times of past
And continue our journey at last-

Antone                                        Va. '68


Like love the ocean thrills me
Blue green rippling sea.
Waves forever breaking go
The sea just thrills me so.
Immortal, perpetual, forever
Never ending, never
Wind and waves both sing a song
To the sea I must belong.
It's enigmatic, difficult to understand
How the sea and I fit hand in hand.

Antone                             Conn. 1967


Sea waters slapping at the shores
At yonder port a lonely bell tolls
Telling stories of past amours
With the waves, the story rolls.

Here at port a beckoning light
Screaming danger to ports afar,
To sailors sailing into the night
Upon the sea and under a star.

Out to sea say twenty leagues
The foghorn blasts its tune
Out to sea, say twenty leagues
In gale and fog of June.

Antone                        Conn. 1967


When I wander down to the sea
I question now and then,
and wonder how I came to be -
a searching soul again.

And nights get longer all the time
and lonelier, it seems.
Even the seagulls are cryin'
for brighter skies we dream.

The waves in unison, they say-
Boy, don't you worry none:
tomorrow will be a bright day,
wait for the rising sun.

Antone                      Conn.  '69


Play and laugh as a child can:
It's a long time you'll be a man.
Yes, take every moment while you can
If only you could understand.

That's the way little one:
Take in the childish fun.
Play with the sand in your hands
And dream of sand-castle lands.

Antone                     R.I. '68


ON THE MOOR

A weathered schooner derelict
lay crashed upon the shore
And now that schooner derelict
Lies fastened to the moor.

Its architecture rustic,
a strong seaworthy craft
The ship now stands a total wreck
from bow unto abaft.
She once was the pride and love
of men who brought her out to sea,
Now she has no skipper,
no crew, no company.

One grey night a storm blew up
and took her with its force.
So that is how this sad old ship
made port far from its course.

Antone                           Conn 67


Far out at sea
Alone and happy.
Drifting along
Singing a song.

Antone                          Conn '68


How longingly and in silent pleas
I look upon you,
Wordlessly begging, "Oh please!"
to eyes of blue.

Wordless pleas cannot be heard;
all my hope is gone.
My lovely dream - murdered.
Again, all alone.

Antone                          Conn '68


I'm going away:
I'm going today.
Goodbye all you people whom I once knew,
Today I'll remember all of you,
In weeks I'll remember just a few
And the few that have grown
in the depths of my heart,
Are the friends of mine
that will never part.

Antone                       R.I.  '68


For miles down the cold dark beach
The embedded prints of feet
Intersecting -- passing each
But the people never meet.

Wearer of this show,
Are you searching too?
Head down and long faced,
And it's the right place
But it's the wrong time,
leaving tracks behind,
And Wandering,
Are you searching, too?
I'm wondering.

Antone                     Va  '68


THE SUMMER CHILDREN

Through Autumn, Winter and Spring
the beach knew only the waves.
But today they have come,
The golden heads and black-haired ones;
In their laughter drowning out
The thunder of the waves.

The Summer Children,
like pale ghosts from the city's street
Awaken the sand to their dancing feet.
Clad only in shorts they come
Absorbing makeup of the sun.
Returning to cities dark and tanned.

As the Summer's door is closed
Their laughter dwindles and is gone,
And the waves roll in alone.
The Summer Children have gone home.

Antone/Bob                        Conn  '68


The waves break with force.
The sea waters, blue, green, and white.
A mass creation.

Antone                                R.I.  '68


Next stop: Lonely Street-
where silence utters
sounds of passing feet,
tears roll in gutters,
and light is unknown.
Fighting lonesome fears-
how old I have grown:
I must have stayed years
-on Lonely Street.

Antone                             Va.  '69


And just get used to being there, and then
It's time for traveling on again.
It's too many times we've passed
When we longed to stop - to stay
Wishing we had been asked
Before we were going away.
Movin on again
Like a free man
making every city home -
Then movin on alone.

Antone                           N.Y.C. '69


And walk alone into that night of darkness
Now silently weep in your heart.
Your heart shall be filled with joy,
And your mind shall find peace.

The city is crying,
Though not alone.
Lift your eyes,
To starlit skies,
And dream - Oh dream!

Antone                           R.I.  '68


And onward passes time into a yet darker night,
and things, objects of reality pass from sight.

The cold sunless shore shares my loneliness:
Where signs say "No go," I trespass,
Into night, where birds
In flight, cannot even see.

Antone                          Conn  '68


When the need comes,
I'll come callin',
When the time comes,
I'll come crawling',
Let me run, Oh, Lord let me run.
When the morn comes -
Dressed in red light
When the eve comes,
Dressed in black night,
Let me run, Oh, Lord let me run.

Antone                         Mass  '68


Oh wandering, disappearing before my eyes -
Is the great clock sun in the skies.
Years have passed, and many are to pass,
Leaving me aged, as I have not asked.

Antone                         Conn  '68


It was such a joy to find
In life's old age I wasn't blind
To beauty I saw as a child
And lingered on a while.

Still left were many roads untaken
To reawaken my imagination.
Revitalized in the stream of time;
Brought again to senses of mine.

Awaken Lazarus from death itself:
I stopped to partake of the wealth
From the stream of time reversed.
And over and over I rehearsed:

In life's old age I wasn't blind.

Antone                         Mass  '68


Thanks to Aquin Valentino for the last photo of Antone "Tony" as a young man.

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