A New Book is Coming Soon- “The Rhymes & Rhythms of a Life”

Keep an eye out on Amazon books and Barnes & Noble for Ben’s newest book,

“The Rhymes & Rhythms of a Life“( 2019, B & K Publishers), a small but powerful work of non-fiction containing Ben’s poems, ditties, and short stories covering a host of entertaining subjects from doctor’s screw ups to gripes about growing old in a society that barely tolerates old folks.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
At age five, Ben Echeverria was already an entertainer. He loved to dress up in formal wear and strike poses for the camera. He enjoyed being on stage or behind a set of drums. He has entertained others all of his life.

“The Rhymes & Rhythms of a Life” has been a long time in development. It really began in 1938 when Ben was born and it grew with him over his 81 years of life. It is an entertaining work of non-fiction consisting of poems-Ben calls them ‘ditties’, and short stories, creatively presented with background text, punctuated by spasms of spontaneity. Ben likes to tell people that he is a “recovering drummer”, or a “recovering meat cutter”, or a “recovering lawyer”. Notice the constant in all three is the word “recovering”. He is working on a fourth-stage of recovery-probably his final one- a “recovering poet and writer”.

Please humor him, and buy this book for your family and friends, and be sure to buy one for yourself, and enjoy it.

Thanks, Ole Ben

“Creativity”

“CREATIVITY”
By
Ben Echeverria
February 2, 2019

Original response….
Composed unconsciously,
Emanating from the depths of the soul,
Recorded first in subconsciousness,
Released in its own time.
It may never hear the light of day,
In the unconscious it may ever stay,
But, it’s there forever.
What could trigger its release?
An event, a sound, a smell,
An inner voice saying, “release me, please let me go.”
Partnering with another,
Musicians on the same page,
Playing on the same stage,
Their lives intertwined,
Music their bonding agent,
Audience their catalyst,
Tone and rhythm, nuanced and joined,
Released together, then alone,
sans paper,
A tone poem.

“The Last Breath”

“THE LAST BREATH”
By
Ben Echeverria
January 21, 2019

The breath of father time
blows upon his neck,
down his back,
encircling his body with a chill,
an odor of aged fruit,
a fallen papaya–its pungent juices
in the winter air,
quaffing its fragrance into the wind.
Death, too, soon to come,
encircling his body with a chill,
the fallen fruit of his life,
lying in its own pungent juices,
in the winter air
quaffing his last breath
into the wind.

“A LIFE WELL LIVED”

by Ben Echeverria
Written: November 24, 2014
First Published: January 9, 2019

The legs are tired,
but not the will.
The lips are cold,
but not yet still.

His life is long,
some right, some wrong.
His will to live
is still quite strong.

He takes each day
the way it comes.
The mind still clear
and filled with song.

The music sweet,
it frees the fear,
it moves the feet,
and brings a cheer.

He has no reason
to think the end.
The road well traveled
was full of bends.

Around each curve
new scenes appeared,
sometimes with laughter,
other times with tears.

A life well lived,
a mating well made.
At last he found
a friend who stayed.

The Deer of Woodland Park

Deer close up 11-27-18
THE DEER OF WOODLAND PARK
By
Ben Echeverria

It’s almost dark
In Woodland Park,
And the deer are on the move.

A big tan doe
Leads the herd,
Her belly large with another.

She rules the herd
With an iron hoof,
and experience as a mother.

At the end of the group
comes a forked horn,
All a bulge with his growing muscle.

He’s preparing himself
For the day to come
When another buck he’ll tussle.

It’s an impressive sight,
This majestic herd,
As they stroll so gracefully by.

But, knowing their fate
At the hunter’s bow
Can surely make one cry.

Continue reading “The Deer of Woodland Park”

No One Cares When We’re Old

No One Cares
When We’re Old & Cold
By
Ben Echeverria
09-01-2018

No one cares
when we’re old and cold,
Very few will care
when we die.

The world we live in
cares not for its old,
They just write us off
with a sigh.

We’re written off
like an old bad debt-
like a check that has bounced
one last time.

A wish for a Mulligan
For a life well lived,
To play the back nine
in slow time.

It won’t come about,
as hard be the try,
So, we must play the ball
Where it lies.