No Judgement

First impressions…

          Judgements made

Based on superficial fizzle.

Like canceling the game for rain

When it was little more than drizzle.

Finding fault with fruitless facts and

Inconclusive inuendo

Breaks the seal of common sense,

Brings the score to its’ crescendo.

 

Weeds and flowers stand together

Side by side without regret

Searching equally for sunlight,

Neither in the others’ debt.

Raise the veil of mock suspicion

Meant to mask reality.

Open eyes and open minds to

Visions of diversity.

 

I will meet you without judgement,

Get to know you without pause,

Never hurt you without reason

Or desert you without cause.

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A Slave to the Past

History holds lessons that are

Vital to all understanding.

Sometimes poignant and demure,

Often tragic and demanding.

 

Duty bids us pay attention

To the subtle messages that

Cross the path of wisdom’s truth

In all its’ shapes and vestiges

To carry forth with confidence that

What was then applies to now,

That judgements may be better served

From fertile furrows erstwhile ploughed.

 

But in an ever-changing world

Where knowledge deepens as it grows

The choices seem to multiply

Or take the stage in different clothes.

 

The humble bow in quiet assent,

The meek retreat and acquiesce

But thoughtful souls of brilliance

Put the question through the acid test.

To learn the lessons of the past

Is smart and bright and brave.

Affix the facts to circumstance

And never be a slave. 

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Oceans Deep

How deep are your canyons, oh,

Mighty blue ocean?

How high are your mountains that

Ne’er reach the sky?

How swift are your currents that

Roll with a frenzy?

How still are the depths of

Your sweet lullaby?

 

From largest to smallest

Your creatures abound,

Both strange and familiar,

Both odd and mundane

With secrets and silence

Below your green mask

No mind can imagine

No man can explain.

 

I only can wonder at

Your great expanse with

Eyes on horizons too distant to see.

The depths of the ocean,

The magical myths,

The beautiful fortune of

Her mystery.

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Dobro

Oh, mystical, magical strings

Of angelic essence,

Unfeigned and heartfelt

With truth as your muse.

Wise in your element

Strong in your diction

Your bold intonation

Splintering taboos.

 

Bring me your music,

Your passion, your power.

Sing with your strings til

My heart fills with glee.

Color the canyons with

Miracle rainbows to

Light up the sky

Without apology.

 

The saddest… the happiest…

The sweetest of sounds

Fly forth from your slide

On their way to my soul.

A tear to my eye,

A smile to my lips,

A miracle moment

More precious than gold.

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Ghost Story

Somebody tell me a scary ghost story.

I need to receive an adrenaline rush.

Make it feel real and creepy and gory

Til all of my senses are turned into mush.

None of that zombie trash,

Werewolves or vampires.

I’m not afraid of things that don’t exist.

Tempt me instead with a vision of spirits

So vivid and lifelike I cannot resist.

 

I do believe that the spirit, the soul

Lives on even after the flesh has grown cold.

And when they are troubled,

The business unfinished,

They become a menace

That can’t be consoled.

 

Lost in the haunting of conscience and caring

The angry ghost lurks in the shadowy dark

Waiting to leap and devour his victim

With swiftness of leopards

And jaws of the shark.

You may have doubts, you

May have suspicions or

Other hypothesis pillar to post,

But no one denies the rush that comes freely

From the spirited tale of an ireful ghost. 

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Sing Out

Listen to the robin as

The dawn breaks in the eastern sky,

Calling out to every ear

Residing here in his domain.

Songs so gently sung the simple

Thought can spring a teary eye

As rivers fill to overflowing

Hearkening the sweet refrain.

 

And I am you, and we are they

As every note rings fresh and clear

To open hearts and lift refrains to

Corners far and corners near.

 

Voices sweet or voices coarse,

Voices loud or whispered low,

Voices calling up to Heaven,

Voices reaching deep below

Sing out with joy,

Sing out with glee

In subtle virtuosity,

Sing out to set your spirit free

In life’s magnificent jamboree.

 

Life can bring a breath of spring

If we can teach our heart to sing. So,

Sing out.

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Secrets in the Stars

Infinity isn’t so far away.

It’s living in the nighttime sky

With millions of billions of angel lanterns

Keeping their secrets for only my ears.

I listen intently as they whisper gently

Sharing the wonders as they wink their eye.

Eons of wisdom are waiting and watching me

Hoping to quell all my curious fears.

 

Slowly I open much more that my eyes

To the visions before me,

The secrets they hold.

The miracles they must have known

In their journeys!

The stories unraveling, yet to be told.

 

Fealty unfailing,

Constant in countenance

Finding your way to the breaking of day.

Breathing the awe,

Beyond imagination,

Granting me gifts I can never repay.

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Tall Trees

Looking up to find the clouds

Beyond the waving canopy.

The sparseness of the pale blue sky

Sparkles there among the leaves

With beams of brilliant sunlight

Dancing here and there, to and fro,

Reminders of a distant dream,

A memory from long ago.

 

Sheltering in blissful peace

I hear the robin sing my name.

In language foreign to my ear

But crisp and certain just the same.

He does not mock or judge me here

Among the giants where I rove.

He knows the secrets undiscovered

Here among his treasure trove.

 

And I bear happy witness to

The miracles and ecstasies

That one may only truly find

Waiting here among the trees.

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Long Walks

Nothing quite refreshes like

An energetic walk outside

Finding the forgiving grace

Of Mother Earth in every stride.

The clock becomes a distant measure

Wandering the countryside til

All the complicated worries,

Every choice is simplified.

 

Breathing in the morning air,

Or evening if it be the better

Pacing every nimble step,

No ropes to bind

No chains to fetter.

Time loses all meaning

And space becomes unbounded

As petty problems melt away

And sorrows seem unfounded.

 

Pausing on this pleasing path to

Watch the willows gently sway.

Lingering to catch the breeze.

Must be on my way.

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Memories Make Me Smile

Make your memories while you’re young

In sweetness and in simple joy.

Learn to laugh and run and play

In every action you employ.

 

Moving at the speed of sound

Across a meadow’s open spaces,

No competing – win or lose -

No first or failure in your races.

Only freedom in the moment.

Happy, smiling, friendly faces

Greet you at the frantic finish with

Loving arms and warm embraces.

 

Deep within the far recesses

Lock these treasures in your heart

That you may find and fond recall

When trials beckon every mile.

 

For I am you and you are me

And time will never see us part

Or lose the precious bounty of

The memories that make us smile.

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Finding Bliss

Just a tiny bit of quiet meditation

Brings such peaceful calm distraction

That my heart begins to sing.

In the wake of harsh reaction,

In the midst of everything that is

Moving in my life

I find sweet Spring.

 

All the joy within my soul

Like a gentle flowing river

Nestled deep among the willows

Waving softly in the breeze

As the easy morning air

Brushes feathers on my forehead

And the sounds of nature echo

Like a grand calliope.

 

I could sit right here forever in

This peaceful solitude

Never noticing the metamorphosis

So resolved, so involved,

So replete with gratitude

To be nestled in the yielding arms of

Bliss.

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Detour

Sorry, you can’t come this way.

Didn’t you see the orange sign?

You must find a work-around to

Get to where you want to be.

 

Yes, I know frustration stirs and

Yes, I know it seems unkind

But I am but a messenger, so,

I beg you don’t be mad at me.

 

Must be some good reason for

The way to be under restriction.

Dangers could be lurking that

Require sanctioned interdiction.

 

Might as well just suck it up and

Find a way around this mess,

Thankful for the warning even though

It causes mild distress.

 

There could well be a blessing in

This warning, to be sure.

I suppose I should be thankful

For the warning sign: Detour.

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Five Senses

A deep magenta morning sky,

The warble of a nightingale.

Flavors from my coffee cup

Invade my taste and sense of smell.

The sun lights gentle on my skin,

Satin soft and faintly warm

Assures me with its subtle touch

I am safe and free from harm.

 

Let me meditate a while

Taking every morsel in

To savor softness in each breath

Like soothing strings of a violin.

And when I close my eyes, I see

With sharpened sensitivity

The sights, the smells, the taste, the touch,

The melodies I love so much.

 

Running free through endless meadows

Laughing loud and leaping fences

Dare I pause in retrospect,

Thankful for these awesome senses.

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Yes

Why is yes so often hard to come by

In this troubled world?

In the midst of black and white

So much gray gets in the way

As firm debate from side to side

Sees many a fickle flag unfurled

With flimsy facts that grow in stacks

But feebly flounce on feet of clay.

 

Could not, would not, will not stand

This toe-to-toe embattlement.

Needs and wants abound aplenty

Calling out from every point

As all stand firmly in the right and

I defer to fold my tent

Til common cause and common sense

Unite to purposes conjoint.

 

Tit-for-tat on this or that

Tried and true that stands the test.

Angst and arguments abound

Struggling to get to yes.

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Ebb and Flow

Seems cliché to talk about the

Ebb and flow of ocean tides

As though a secret we must only

Contemplate and take in stride.

 

There are no perfect guarantees,

No sacred universal plan to

Govern all our destinies,

To lead us safely by the hand.

 

Life is filled with peaks and valleys

Joys and sorrows,

Dark and light.

Live today and face tomorrow

With fare to feed the appetite.

 

You shall be my ebb and flow,

My sole companion, tried and true.

Though I may drown in deepest sorrow

You’ll be there to pull me through.

 

And I, for you, shall be a beacon

Staunchly placed upon the shore

To soothe your pain,

To share your bliss

And walk beside you ever more.

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In the Country

Honeysuckle blossoms

Beneath the willow trees

Bring sweet invitation to

The early morning breeze.

The hummingbird, the butterfly

Will soon be on the wing to

Gather nature’s nectar

With the nurturing it brings,

 

And I am naught but witness

As the miracles abound.

With silent awe as recompense 

I cling to every sound.

Alive with every color

My humble eyes can see

I wonder at the wonder of

My gentle company.

 

Nestled deep in darkened wood

The nightbird croons his song.

Though tempted by his sweetness

I dare not sing along.

It would be a sign of disrespect,

A loss of gentle grace.

So, I will nestle in repose

In country’s warm embrace.

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Growing Up Poor

Not a lot of perks or privilege

In the caverns of my humble youth.

We didn’t know we were poor at the time

If you really want to know the truth.

All of the people that we knew

Were living pretty much the same,

Except, of course, those precious few

Who didn’t bother to know our name.

No caviar on our daily buffet,

No crepes or kabobs were ever seen.

But hunger was never an issue as long as

We had cornbread, taters and beans.

 

The clothes on our backs?

Some were hand-me-downs

Garnered from relatives, neighbors and friends.

We didn’t consider it charity,

Just a kindly means to a worthwhile end.

Through work or play we ended each day

Sleeping each night in a creaky bed

Snuggled so deep under Mom’s hand-stitched quilts,

Thankful to have a roof over our heads.

 

Hardscrabble country life,

Just getting along.

Sundays we ride the pews

To sweet Gospel songs.

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Everybody Has the Best Mom

“My Mom is the best Mom ever,”

Said everyone in the history of time.

Every adjective and superlative

From phenomenal to sublime is

Tossed in reverent wonder to

Her angelic composure,

And she must seem a patron saint

To everyone who knows her.

 

It isn’t hard to understand

Why moms are always so revered,

Their swift approval needed

And her retribution feared.

The very first to stroke your brow,

To tell you that,” I love you.”

Just knowing she will always be

And put no one above her.

 

No matter who walks through our life

Or what flag is unfurled,

It is agreed

                    That we all have

The best Mom in the world.

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Hum

I hum when I am happy.

I hum when I am filled with dread.

I hum when I forget the words

But the tune keeps dancing in my head.

 

The strum of humming on my pallet

Lightly strokes the passage walls

To soothe my soul with gentle peace

And waste all worries, great and small.

 

A myriad of playful ditties

Waltz along in melodies from

Long-neglected memories

Nested in a distant past.

 

Or could it be my playful mind

Constructs a three-part harmony

That wafts but briefly through the air

And exits just as fast.

 

No matter.

It is just a game.

A tidbit on the tip of time,

An elephant who has no name,

The perfect paradigm

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A Quiet Place

And all I want is a quiet place

Where harmony resides,

Where passions melt to empathy

And kindness never dies.

Nestled in this humble space

Away from prying eyes

To find the golden apogee

That haunts the starlit skies.

 

You may long for busy bees

Abuzz around a hectic hive

With regal queen and followers

Who work to help the dream survive,

To reap the honey drenched in gold

So all may know,

So all survive to

Taste the kiss and know the bliss

Of how it is to feel alive.

 

Now, age has softened my resolve

Revealing where the truth abides

And all I want is a quiet place

Where harmony resides.

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