My Poetry And Prose-Page 7
Here is a collection of my poetry and prose writings that I have written over the years. Most of my writings were created and composed in my youth.
(323) My Mother
remember my mother's face,
To play again
along the creek.
(325) The Night
gentle, blessed night
No mortal could abide
(326) A Star
is beauty in a star
Whether bright or whether
(327) I Wish I Were
I wish I
were her fork or spoon,
I wish I were her clock on
It would be too
much to ask,
I were a nightingale,
(328) Thank Thee God
Praises I do raise
Follow, ever follow on,
Believe, and they will come
them bravely with your heart.
In that land there comes
is all futile," I say,
The sky seems a deeper
eternal promise I do give.
Though of time I may be a
God in heaven above
I have power within my
I was born before
I hold the keys
to peace and joy,
My substance is
I ever speak of things
I am what is
I am beyond compare.
eternal curse is mine.
In many forms I
I upon violence do
I bring anger to
In the shadows I do
sulk and live.
Ah, the power of inspiration
who has hold of this golden key
journey beyond his abode here
(334) What I Believe
God is the reason for every
Each grain of sand I trust
No one will ever persuade
me that breath is wasted
There is a way I feel.
Some day the sun will
midst of ill
(336) The Poet
poet sees and tells
The poet speaks gentle
The poet is a
Behold the leaves multicolored in the October sun. The sky is hazy and beyond the horizon there dwells rain, that three day drizzle that an east wind blows in this time year. Cool, damp, grey days that precede the coming of winter are to be our lot for another month, except for intervals of Indian summer when the warmth and bright blue skies makes us doubt that we are so near to snow and freezing temperatures.
It is a melancholy time, though not unpleasant. With every gust of wind the leaves fall like rain. It is an act of nature that occurs without much fanfare as the green gives up the ghost in favor of the brown.
(338) The Goldenrods
Fall's flowers, the goldenrods flamed before me in the pasture. The sky a deep blue and the beauty of those flowers did belie the time of year. It seemed like summer bright and green, but the falling leaves and the shortness of the days proved it was summer past.
A golden time of the year is fall as there is the golden grain, the golden leaves, and the golden flowers like the goldenrods. Fall is the maturing of plants, the going through the fire and coming out as pure as gold. The world is mellowed in that eternal cycle of bud, blossom, and then the fruit. The goldenrods waved at me in the wind, a whole troupe of them did wave, and I felt blessed at that moment.
(339) When The Music Stops
Soon the music will stop, 'tis autumn now. A chill is in the air, but they still sing. Crickets, tree frogs, and katydids still sing the night away. Loudly they sing, happily they sing, but soon it all will end. Still they sing! They meet death as they met life, with exuberance and with jubilance.
I wonder if I will meet death so well. Retaining such faith and happiness throughout the years is not so easy. The autumn of life often finds people distressed and lonely. Listening to the insects and tree frogs tonight I sense their wonderful acceptance of fate.
(340) The Crisis Of Seasons
A crisis in the affairs of plants, insects, and animals occurs every fall as some hibernate and others die. The leaf changes colors, then falls, and the earth regains what it begot. As we watch this process we feel a certain regret, though not despair, for instinctively we sense this is not the end.
It is only another step in existence. The cold and dark of winter merely checks life for a season as it is only a time of change, a time of rest. When spring comes all will be renewed, and will return to life with new vigor after the months of repose. Looking at fall in this manner lessens the shock of it's transformation, and we are able to enjoy the season as a necessary part of the glorious whole.
(341) The North Wind
Life teems all summer long and bathes in warmth, but fall slows the process. Gradually the cold slows the sap. The aging of the year sends the leaves to the ground, the woodchucks to the hole, and the birds south. The frost hovers on the plants and blades of grass and brings death with it's caress. The leaves feel the icy fingers of the frost, and like the pincers of a crab it severs the leaves one by one. The morning air is chilly, crisp, and clear, and the days are still with occasional chill laden breezes.
The cold comes out of the north wailing, and it sounds like a death dirge. I wonder to myself, do the trees and flowers know? Do they know like the birds that have flown south, that winter is nigh? It is like a funeral hymn, the sound of that wind swaying the half bare trees, and sending the remnant of their leaves to the ground.
The grass is icy cold to the touch, and though green it has the feel of death. How grey and somber the sky appears in the waning light. I cry deep inside myself to think that another summer has past, and I must spend another long, cold winter alone comforted only by thoughts of spring.
Bleakness met my eyes in the landscape. A tree not yet bereft of all it's foliage, green mixed with vivid yellow and gold, stood out in glittering array. Behind it stood the hill, dark and lonely, and the trees stark and bare, while above reigned the gray evening sky, and at my feet lie the bright green grass. I was witnessing the end of a season, and the feeling it gave me was not unlike witnessing the end of a life. As flowers adorn the casket at a funeral there was some beauty in that sadness.
(342) The Sad November
The sad November has come round again. The evening curtain drops quickly now. The nights are chilled, and many of the days are cold and gray. The stars twinkle so lonely in the night, unlike in summer when they seem nestled in the warm companionship of each other's light. In the cold darkness of the November night they look so isolated.
The trees have lost the comfort of their blanket of leaves, and are forced to face the cruel icy wind unprotected. A kind summer season filled with warmth and sunshine and warm showers has been their preparation for nature's severity. For some no buds may appear in spring. Especially those with a weakness does the cold wind seek out and destroy.
There is in winter a solemnity of forms that pervades every aspect of our thoughts. There is nothing superflous in the landscape as the winter scene is free of allaccoutrements and adornments. Winter is very basic.
Winter is a season when ornamentation and ostentation is done away, and what is left is the original outline, the bare essence. Winter reveals the true essence of that upon which all the frills of summer are placed. Whereas summer puts on a lavish and multifarious outfit, winter is stark reality.
I step out on the frozen turf and the cold grips me like a vise. The ground is frozen like concrete as the pliable clay of summer has turned into a solid rock hard material. The rocks and pebbles are encrusted in the frozen earth so that even the most vigorous kicking cannot dislodge them.
All water is turned to ice except that in a swiftly moving stream which is invaded by the ever creeping ice along both sides. The sky is a cold icy blue, and even the sun appears like a distant sparkling icicle. All around is conquered by the cold and ice. Had I just viewed the world for the first time today, I would conclude it to be a frozen wasteland.
(344) The Lonely Winter Moon
Sometimes I feel like the lonely winter moon staring down on snow covered hills. The moon looks so lonely and silent. It is a beautiful sight though to look outside on a cold winter night when the ground is covered with snow and a bright moon is shining down. The snow glistens in the soft moonlight and it seems almost like daylight.
The stars look so bright, and you get the feeling you could almost reach up and touch them. It seems so heavenlike, as if the world and the heavens were one and everything is so clear, so understandable.
The silence is what stands out. As one steps out the sound of one's own footsteps in the snow sounds so loud. As one stops to listen there is no other sound as even the wind is silent and everything seems under some heavenly spell.
(345) The Snow
Of all the marvels of nature, snow is supreme. Snow makes the world a fantasyland, it makes the countryside a wonderland. It can be cold and forbidding at times, yet it makes our hearts warm with its beauty. Who can fail to be awed by the attraction of a scene of hills and valleys covered with snow. Snow makes the world seem like a fantasy land, and we feel amidst its charm a part of some fairy tale.
As children we revelled in the snow. It made our backyard a playpen and when we were a child we were jubilant when it fell. It was a time to try out our new sled or to build a snowman.
The snow awakens our imagination and invites us to journey into its dreamland. On moonlit nights one of the rare joys of life is beholding the snow covered landscape beneath those bright stars. All is so unreal when the snow graces our land. It seems like we have almost been transported to another planet.
Especially the first snow of the season is awe inspiring. When there is a blizzard outside we are thankful to be inside near a warm fire, and perhaps that is another blessing of the snow, it draws us closertogether. Among our fondest memories are as a child hearing the cold winter wind whipping outside on a snowy night while we were warm and snug in bed.
(346) Carpe Diem
Seize the day before it is gone,
Rarely opens opportunity's door,
Sometimes we only have one shot,
(347) First and Last
First is a lark and a holiday,
First we think it will never end,
First we were like a little child,
(348) Little Gray Squirrel
I see a little gray squirrel everyday,
It doesn't seem to have a care or worry,
I guess that I from it could learn,
(349) Elm Leaf
Elm Leaf upon the tree,
Our brief time in the sun,
Little leaf, such a delight to view,
(350) A Being of the Moment
Somewhere amidst this light and dark we exist in the region of sunshine and shadow, a being of the moment. We are an entity in our true essence without form or place. For now we are suspended in this moment riding the crest of the wave in time.
We are neither here nor there, but we are everywhere a being of the moment in the universe. Only in rare moments when a beautiful musical composition frees us, or the words of a lovely poem, or the beauty of a natural setting elevates us, or we are permitted to glimpse the beautiful soul of another, only then arethe scales ever so briefly lifted from our perception and we see who we really are.
(351) A Blank Piece of Paper
I never see a blank piece of paper, but I feel the urge to fill it with thought. There I say, "is a place to put something of myself." Wherever there is a blank piece of paper there is a chance to convey my thoughts upon it, to preserve as it were, my thoughts of this moment, my thoughts at this time, in this place.
Paper, from the ancient scrolls, unto our super abundance of paper in this day, have preserved the thoughts of mankind. Each person has something to say, and only they can say it, and it needs to be said, and the world will be better for it. Each person has their own unique perspective on the world, and insights that only they have. If they fail to share what they have to give, then we are all less for it.
No one else quite sees the world the way I do, or the way you do. That's what makes life so wonderful, the uniqueness of each individual, and the value of that unique view of things enriching the world with variety and freshness. Though we all share many things in common, we all also have our own individual special outlook on things. A blank piece of paper can be filled with that which conveys to the world who we truly are, and the light which is ours to shine on life.
(352) A Perfect Day
I have never done all the things
It would be nice to live
But I quess that will
(353) The Sin of Idleness
To be useful is an achievement, but to be useless is a waste. Idleness is refusing the opportunities and challenges of life. It is in effect refusing life, a denial of life and all the hope it engenders.
I have squandered time in a horde of aimless ways. I have sat and watched the hours drift by, and not only watched, but hoped they would go faster. How many countless mornings I have awakened with no set purpose for the day. How many yesterdays have gone by without my caring, almost without my notice.
How many monotonous days have I wasted, because I could not think of anything worth doing, or because I didn't have the zeal or courage to do anything worthwhile. There are undertakings for which a person should be justly condemned, but I wonder what the condemnation should be for no undertaking at all?
Idleness is a waste of the precious time we have here on earth, and just as destructive to an individual as a fatal disease can be. It robs one of a sense of purpose and a reason for living. It robs one of the wonder and joy of life.
(354) The Days Tiptoe On By
The days tiptoe on by,
It was warm,
Time, the thief of youth,
While in our mind
(355) Split Second Decisions
It is the split second decisions that sometimes kill us. There we are, our mind miles away, and bang, a choice to make, and almost no time to think about it or weigh the matter. Then it is we truly find out our fiber. Then it is that we are most vulnerable and our weaknesses glare forth.
All may have been fine moments before. We may have been on top of the world, but in an instant our world can change forever, because of a bad split second decision. An instant of indecisiveness or gross error in judgement can turn our world for the worse.
There are times we are never more blatantly wrong in our life, than when a split second decision is required, and we are caught hopelessly off guard. Things have a way of happening in life suddenly and without warning, things that we have not prepared for, and that we never thought would happen to us. Often when these unforeseen events happen to us, and a split second crucial decision is required that may have critical everlasting consequences on our life or the lives of others, we are ill prepared.
Yet, surprisingly, many of our split second decisions are wise ones, while ironically those decisions we mull over for long periods of time are not always good decisions. I think perhaps split second decisions come from the very core of our being and who we are. If we have within us a deep and abiding faith, and a basic strength of character with a desire to do what is right and good, then I think most of our split second decisions will be the right decisions. It also doesn't hurt to have good fortune or a guardian angel on our side as well.
(356) What is Life?
What is Life?
What is life?
(357) The Wonder of Life
Slowly, haltingly we come to appreciate life. We awake one morning and God reveals to us all the promise, beauty, and majesty life has to offer. As a window opened revealing a marvelous scene our heart takes in this new serenity of soul.
It sometimes takes a lifetime before we become endeared to life in it's true sense of beautiful simplicity. Albeit how wise, we must become humble to truly appreciate and love life.
The promise of life is unlimited. The living have the stars within their grasp. Life is a treasure whose value is inestimable, a diamond of lustre toobright to look upon.
(358) The Chamber of Horrors
Nothing is more frightening than those thoughts concocted by the mind. The mind can be a chamber of horrors. All we fear and dread lie chained there in the mind ready to be unleashed at the first opportunity. Once freed the horrors of our mind can drive us to the brink of insanity.
The monstrous thoughts of our mind rage to and fro threatening to devour us with their venomous force. The mind can exhibit the greatest serenity of thought on occasion as the thoughts are so calm one doubts any desturbance could create a turmoil, but in an instant the madness can strike, and terrible burning thoughts roar forth as we are at the mercy of those dark and desperate thoughts.
How the thoughts grasp at what is sinister, and will not let us escape, dwelling on the heinous and dispicable, the grim and unhappy aspects of life. The mind is also the reservoir of unpleasant memories, guilt, and regret, dire imaginings, terrible grief and sadness, exorbitant melancholy, uncontrollable anxieties, morbid fears, and manias all bent on rendering us into a state of emotional collapse.
The mind is exceptionally adept at fashioning the most grotesque and worst of situations, and of plunging us into hours of mental agony. The contemptible thoughts hold sway over our entire body, churning and burning our stomach and intestines, tensing and unsettling our nerves, causing insomnia and lack of appetite, completely disrupting our physical body, and darkening our spiritual outlook as well.
The mind and our thoughts have such power, and can cause such distress and unrest, that we wish we had the power to turn the mind off at times. Oblivion would almost be preferable to the stormy mind at times.
Violence is a seed from which sprouts a thousand woes. Human beings are at times the instruments of violence. Our world is increasingly threatened by this compulsion of people and nations for violence. In an age where catastrophic destructive power is readily available to people who would commit violence, an instant of unthinkable horrible violence can so transform our world as to make it virtually unlivable.
There exists within the human heart a capacity for evil, and for aggravating and violating every known law and code of conduct, even to the extent of sacrificing one's ownself to appease the hunger for destruction and violence.
Pehaps there will come a day when human beings overcome the violence within them, and learn to direct their energies toward peaceful constructive channels-a day of peace and good will for all who exist on the earth.
(360) The Mind
The mind is the final frontier. We have only begun to explore the wonders to be found in the mind. It is true there are darknesses and horrors there, but the wonders and the capacity of the mind to perceive and create good and beauty far outweigh all that is negative.
I think that the farther that human beings go without, and the greater their achievements and discoveries, the greater will be our need to explore within the territory of the mind. It is unwise to go very far outward without going an equal distance inward. We can only control the outward as we are controlled by the inward.
Only a minute part of the mind's power and capacity has been tapped and utilized. The human race is only in its infancy in understanding the mind, and using the mind's energy and full potential. One of the greatest wonders of the universe is the mind and its thoughts. For in a sense without our thoughts nothing could exist for us, but with our thoughts everything can exist, and anything lies within the realm of possibility. Thoughts cannot be limited, therefore we cannot be limited so long as we have our mind and thoughts.
What a marvelous thing God has instilled in a human being, the mind, the ability to think and reason, the ability to chose right or wrong, the ability to learn and create, and the ability to comprehend all the other things of creation.
Perhaps one of the most amazing abilities of the mind is our ability to communicate and express ourselves, and to let other people know how we feel and what we are thinking, and to feel and express our love and tenderness for one another, and work together toward common goals. Without that ability of the mind for self expression and communication civilization and society would not exist.
(361) Rainy Days
I like rainy days. There is something about rainy days that is so soothing, peaceful, and relaxing. Rainy days are the perfect days for thought and meditation.
Sunny days are great, but they are so bright and the pace is quicker and less conducive to pensive contemplation. On a day when the rain falls slowly the mind drifts naturally and easily down a channel of thought much as a canoe under the influence of agentle current.
Although I love sunny days, I count myself fortunate to live rainy days as well.
(362) There are
some people rare,
Who would give one their
Most of all having
Having respect for
A trusting heart
An optimistic view,
(363) If We Ourself Could See
If we ourself
laugh at our fears,
Could we see how we
would avoid much woe
Could see into our
We would more wisely
(364) To My mother
kind and true
When I was sick in
Take my burdens
I did learn from her
Never was purer
first heard pray,
(365) To My Father
father I owe
Finer man I never
braver man one could find,
Was not one to run and
Father always taught me
always proudly stood,
(366) The Last Sound
The air is
filled with sound.
The sound of the ringing
But one sound interests
Low voices around the
It might be a dog
slight creaking of the floor,
(367) All Things Have An End
there have been
As beautiful flowers
brightest suns that burn
(368) The Eyes Of A Child
The eyes of
a angel I did view
wonderment at the tender smile
Looking into the eyes of a
I feel the peace
the eyes contain,
A child is unto heaven so
(369) The Stream
Most happy it seems to
The fairest flowers of
around are singing,
around lies nothing,
The future I do dread.
No bottom has this
(371) How We See A Thing
It is all
how we see a thing.
Some see evil in
Some see glory in
Some see life with a
Some see with their heart
(372) A Tender Thread
exists a tender thread between sorrow
There is a tender thread
between the good and bad,
There is a tender thread
between desire and lust,
There is a tender thread
between man and the beast,
Perhaps one of the most difficult things we ever have to deal with in life is serious illness, whether the illness effects us or a loved one. It is almost as bad when a loved one is ill as when we ourself are ill.
At first there is the initial shock of finding out that we or a loved one is seriously ill with cancer, heart disease, or another major illness that could be fatal. Then there are the endless trips to the hospital, the doctor's office, and the pharmacy for medicine. There is the fear and uncertainty, and often the pain and disbility if there is surgery or other complications involved with the illness. There can also be the stress of confinement and loss of mobility. Our whole life and way of living is changed as we try to cope with the illness.
Our outlook on life and the world changes. Little things we took for granted like time with our family, recreational pastimes, and moments to ourself, become more precious and important. We become acutely aware of our own mortality, and the fact that our time on this earth might not be much longer.
We notice the flowers and how beautiful the world is. We notice the people in our life and how wonderful they are, and how precious they are to us. We begin to find more comfort in our faith and to trust in God more. For perhaps the first time in our life we come to understand what is really inportant.
(374) My Prayer
Dear God, I pray, help me,
I come with humble heart,
Take away my selfish pride,
(375) Special Angels
Sometimes when we see no light,
A kind word, a kind deed,
Though they may not have wings,
(376) Nothing Is Unimportant
Our world is so constructed that nothing that exists or happens is unimportant. Creation is all tied together, and bound in the broad sea of being. All about is inter related, and substances of common heredities. Taken a step farther we perceive that nothing that happens is really unimportant or insignificant.
This can be applied even more significantly to the inter actions between people. Who knows what the resulting consequences and reverberations down through time of a kind word or deed, and how it may beneficially effect countless other people for untold good. On the other hand the resulting repercussions of an act of cruelty or evil may be the cause of terrible and monstrous crimes and evils to be perpetrated on countless future generations.
(377) Pleasant Reflections
There are times when I feel low that I reflect upon memories that are sweet or pleasant.
My thoughts hasten back to moments in spring,
By this reflection on life's more pleasant memories I arrive at some equanimity.
(378) Life Is Funny
We never know when we are up,
One of the most difficult things in the world is to accept criticism. By nature we become upset when we are criticized, even though we know the criticism might be somewhat justified. Strangely enough we can accept and be quite unperturbed when someone else is being criticized, it doesn't bother us at all, but when we ourselves are criticized, even slightly, our anger flares.
Do we hold we are perfect beings? Absolutely not, we readily admit our shortcomings, but we just don't like anyone else telling us about them. Criticism seems so much like abuse, that we can't or we don't try to accept it, or see the difference of whether it is justified or not. After all at times there are people who seem malicious in their criticism, and who just pick and pick at every little thing we do, who appear to have a personal dislike for us, and who criticize us constantly. On the other hand there are those who only criticize judiciously, and with good intentions, when they think it is appropriate, and for our own good.
Whether the intentions are good or bad, we still don't like criticism. All of our defensive mechanisms rise up at the very hint of criticism, and we plot how we will defend ourself from what appears to be a personal attack upon us as an individual. Of course there can be vast differences in the way criticism is done, and also of who does the criticizing. If the criticism is done in a polite and respectful manner it is more readily accepted by us. Also we accept criticism more easily and readily from certain people, such as close or trusted friends, beloved family members, or people we admire or respect, more than from someone else we may not know or someone we might dislike.
I think it is important that we learn to accept criticism, and use it to our advantage as a means of improving ourselves. Criticism can be a great help to us. Constructive criticism is helpful in pointing out our flaws and weaknesses, and helping us to achieve our goals, or to change ourselves for the better.
Actually we should be grateful to someone for pointing out our errors and flaws so that we may take steps to correct them. The person who points out our mistakes is perhaps more of a true friend than someone who sees we are wrong, and says nothing, letting us continue on in our error to our own detriment.
Selfishness, while seeming to be in our best interest, can actually be quite harmful to us. In pursuing selfish ends and pleasures we ultimately find that any satisfaction we gain from them is only temporary, like over indulging in sweets, and that in the long run they are bad for us. Selfishness always leaves us with an empty feeling, while giving and caring for others leaves us fulfilled and happy.
Our affections were meant to be extended, not focused inwardly, but expanded outwardly toward loving and helping others. Expanding our feelings in the direction of others gives us a happiness within that selfishness could never do. When we only care for ourself we shrivel up into a lonely little person, but when we reach out with love and kindness toward others our loneliness goes away, and we don't feel frightened and miserable any longer.
To receive the blessings of life we must give ourself up. We must die to self, in a sense, to truly live as a caring and compassionate person. Selfishness prevents us from really caring and giving of ourself to others. It is like a chain around our neck which pulls us back from helping those in need or having compassion for those who suffer and who reach out to us for comfort and kindness. Selfishness prevents us from really having selfless and unconditional love for our family and friends. Selfishness in the end is really a form of self destruction, while selflessness and love for others and love for God is our salvation.