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Kindergarten. . .
To Play the Child. . . For whatever is not made peace with, will piece the person. It will break them into a million parts, never knowing it can be peaced, nor seeing how they contribute to it all, will leave the adult body still playing the child. When one operates from a child’s reference…
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The Bread Knows. . . .
Some days. . . are a wipe out. Only to do what one can. The Rabbi Teacher asked only one thing. ‘Feed the children.’ Sometimes the simplest command is shrouded by a complex system of thought. Think so? The Bread Knows the Feel of my Hands. . . I know the dust of the flower…
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Earth Held Hostage. . .
Time Now To Grow Up. . . There are times that call men to action and this is one of them. It is time to give way to new ideas that have been incubating for a long time within the hearts and minds of those given to thought. We are long delayed in giving space…
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The Snow May Blind Us. . .
This poem is one in the Psalms of Love. The book is available now in Kindle and is in process also, almost ready for print in paper back on Amazon.com. In the midst of this winter, I wanted to share my love for this season and will always love it especially. The most impressive part…
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Psalms of Love. . .
This is the day I have long awaited. It is the day I can say to my family and friends that the book called Psalms of Love is available on Amazon. The Kindle is available now and within a few days, the paper back will be available if not already. It has been incubating for…
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Embrace The Differences. . . .
Journal entry March 12, 1990. . . . . I can remember thinking and finally saying out loud though I happened to be in the basement, I could tell who came in from outdoors by what swept over me. It could have been their vibes or their energy blanket or it could have been…
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The Gates of Heaven. . . .
When I Crashed The Gates. . . You ask. . . . How do you go to your knees and with tears bend and lift your head and to whom or to what? I say. . . . To a loving, wholly, holy Spirit that supports me with an embrace I know. . .…
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Ripped, Severed, Broken. . . .
Times Such As These. . . I lock up the room and pocket the last remnants of words laying about unattended. Fearful that pieces of my heart may be found scattered among them. And why not? Times such as these leave us with little salve to heal the open wounds which once were hearts. For…
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Lean on Me. . . .
Lean On Me. . . Lean, love, lean on me and rest your tired heart. Let me rescue you out of a dream and allow you to awaken in a world of choice. Bend to me, as the willow to the wand, as the lily grips the water to float. I have time enough and…
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Welcome Home, Emma E. . .
Welcome Home, Emma E. . . I am by nature not a mover, but a thinker. I think a lot and have been muchly criticized for it. By people saying I read too much into life. Mostly by people who never had a clue. If my friend Emerson is to be taken as an authority,…