The flowing river of life meanders to the sea
Rising under the bright, golden benevolence of Sol,
raining down power to this earthly creation…
endless plying within the white/grey cloud ships
that roam about endless skies.
The third dimension seems infinite,
but may be as large as a single rain drop
that falls from the Heavens to begin its earthly journey
treading the same path to join the sea of
Is it not time now for a commitment to end
this needless destruction of sentient beings
by those who try and bend Mother Nature into a
Dripping with dominance and greed.
Is it not time to love and embrace our humanity
and be humane to each other.
War, starvation, ignorance, destruction, hatred
…a few of many words that need not exist.
If we do not try, the depravity of the Second World War
will raise its ugly head and strike
like a coiled viper.
We must create a world filled with goodness
that needs only be but a choice….
How easy can it get.
You flip the coin…good or evil…
You take a stand.
Nirvana on earth can be a reality.
Earth slowly spins beneath a star-filled sky,
Yes, that we know, but only God knows why.
The sun comes up, the sun goes down.
A child is born - and someone passes on.
Time, neither seamless nor continuous,
Is quilted of odd bits and squares of
Fabric made from lives of friends and folk
We meet by chance along the way.
They soon become a part of us
Too precious ever to be lost
And yet they too must leave
Then we again shall find ourselves alone.
Life is a mystery to which there is no answer.
So rich, so full, and yet so final when soon gone.
I had a love, a love that came to me,
Like spring’s first dogwood blossom,
Scintillating, bright as forsythia,
Pristine as drifted snow, and
Warm as a fireside
In a cozy room.
Her life now gone,
Yet she will linger on, and on,
Within my heart
And those she left behind.
I had this dream one Sunday night.
That after a big Revival in our town,
All the preachers got together and decided
Heaven was just too good to wait.
There were twenty-eight of them altogether.
They convened on the Village Green,
Prayed, sang a few hymns,
Then all of them drank cold, purple Koolaid,
(For which no one had remembered
To bring the arsenic.)
Earlier they had tried to call Billy Graham
To come join them.
But he called back to say he couldn’t come.
(He was in Washington sitting with the President’s dog)
The Pope couldn’t come either,
Because some of the members of the choir had
Escorted him out to a lake and
Were expecting to see him walk on Water
Standing by a little campfire on the edge of the lake,
They were all singing,
“If you talk the talk, and walk the walk,
And can create Saints out of Mortal Men,
Then you can sink or you can swim.
But you’re gonna hafta try,
To come out dry.”
It was a somber tune
Loyal apostates were staring and gawking,
But no one appeared overly optimistic
The Pope himself, was standing naked on the bank,
Except for his Rosary.
He was assiduously kissing his ring,
(An act so comforting to many worshipers)
He was trying hard not to get wet, and praying
That HOLY LIGHTENING might strike the rest of them DEAD!
A humble tenor - an abused Altar Boy,
Approached him from the rear
With a pointed stick and poked him sharply
In his pale, pink derriere
Causing him to leap mightily for the nearest rock.
It was not a rock!
It was a large frog sitting on a water lily
Both sank like stones!
They pulled him out shivering and keening like a banshee
And told him they would give him two more tries,
Due to his false start.
He thanked them graciously
And implored them to get their unsanctified hands the hell off him
Since he was getting ready to ascend.
Very high, - and got six feet further out than he did before.
But once more
He only splashed then sank like a rock.
They extended his Jesus-stick out
To pull him in, fearing he couldn’t swim.
Clawing himself out upon the muddy bank
He squishily rose to his knees.
He blessed them all profusely,
Then foregoing any further opportunity,
He opined that he’d just as soon
Revert to being a Cardinal, a Bishop or even a Priest.
Or maybe give up the ministry altogether.
Dreams like this will
Disturb your sleep
Especially if you are Catholic,
Or even Baptist.
Relaxing on the Beach
Bright sunlit laughter
Sprayed with salt and sand,
That marked the time this holiday began,
Now softens at the closing of the day
To murmur, echo, listen –
Then slowly fade away.
And twilight breathes a long and heavy sigh,
To sweep crane and egret from the sky.
And loft the solitary gull on silent wing
Into the darkening, ever narrowing ring
Of somber grays and blues
That higher through the waning yellow hues
Of twilight, so peacefully diffuse.
Soft breezes wake and wandering o’er the dunes
Enfold the notes of early evening tunes,
And waft them gently o’er the misty quay
To blend with solemn base notes
From the sea.
Far out in murky depths below,
Waves regiment their courage row on row,
Then glide in silent mass
Across the ocean floor,
And gaining strength
Charge headlong with a roar,
To die in frothing foam
Upon the barren, empty bulwark
Of the shore.
They vanquished, recoil
Leaving naked on the sand
Spirit creatures from the depths
Beyond the land
Who spring on pointed claw and bold
Perform their ballet pantomime
Upon the quaking gold.
Then dart with sprightly haste and disappear
Beneath the lacy folds
Of phosphorescent glow.
And suddenly - the moon
Hangs in the sky.
A brilliant - glaring - ancient,
To gaze upon the ceaseless convolutions
Of the sea,
And guild the sand
With silvered strands
of unrequited melancholy.
I wrote these lines,
When I, like you,
Looked down upon a graven stone.
I thought some message to distill
From my life’s
Wondrous joys and tears,
That having passed this way
Through time and space
Might leave behind
A word, a thought,
A prayer, that would unite us
In a state of grace far distant
From my shallow resting place.
So here my body lies
Beneath the ancient earth,
While you, bemused, stand wond’ring
If ’tis all for naught.
We share a moment in this slip of time,
In hopes our spirits may commune
In wordless ambience transcending human thought,
And wending upward contemplate
The grandeur of that paradise long sought.
I bid you peace and homeward drift
On vast eternity’s now ebbing tide,
To patiently await that time
When you and I in peace abide.
When on that last tomorrow
You depart this earth,
Take time to leave behind a verse
As mine may be obscured
Beneath some tangled vine.
If you have learned what life is all about,
Compose a poem, not a curse
And bid the others bravely follow us.
A poet wrote we know not whence we came
Nor why, we know not where we go, nor when,
But you must sing with joy, life’s sacred hymn,
‘Til destiny shall sound your final requiem.