Category: Poetry

  • Virtue In The Doing. . . .

    The Keys Of The Kingdom. . . . (In the conversation I mention about the satisfaction in the doing of what most consider work with my brother Stanley, and he said I hold the keys of the kingdom,  in my terminus I see the wisdom of this.  I was told to ‘do and you will…

  • I hold the candle for you. . . .

                        We are bringing to close another year with what are special gifts.    It is the gift of gratitude for life, of a peace not yet finished and a state of mind that is in itself a miracle.  These are limited only by focus and not…

  • Will I Require An Alibi?

    In The Mirror Is The Answer. . . . THE TEACHER SPEAKS. . . .It is useless to say that we can be non judgmental when we make judgments of necessity all day long.  What we must not judge are the places an Other comes from when we look upon cultural ways.  When we understand…

  • Love Awaits . . .with a putting place. . .

    October 27, 2022. . .(I posted this essay more than 5 years ago and my thoughts today have only deepened.  The wish I hold still is that there would have been someone early on that I could have voiced my thoughts with no fear.  In my terminus I fulfil the old maxim that the end…

  • Freedom’s Work. . .

    Freedom Is Not Free. . . Time nears for elections and we wonder  how can our aged bodies contribute to this magnificent  country  we live in so that our democracy does not die.  We  plead with the heavens.  And thoughts are given to match what can be done.  The healing begins and life  takes off…

  • Why the words. . .

    I wrote in September ’87 journal that  I glanced at Ernie and Frank’s (I think) cartoon on my desk.  Descartes says, I think therefore I am.  And the gent disappears after being told this and the logical thought is, if I don’t think, I am not.  And like tea, I steep, how can one live…

  • Within Memory Recalled. . .

      Home of One’s Soul The Teachers Speak. . . Every so often, out of one’s domain, there is an isolation that swamps one. It is difficult to shake, and yet there it is, evidence that this is not home. There is a portion or many portions appealing to one, yet basically, the at home feeling…

  • the morning sun on time. . begin again. . .

    The lines from  Tom Atkins Quarry House website from the Poem Making Rope stopped my heart the moment I read the lines  . . . . . history . . . . that does not die because a few care enough to remember and live the old ways, sure as faith, and twice as strong…

  • With Gratitude served. . . .

        Come To My Table Come to my table and sit awhile and I will tell you tales of years gone by, attended by loves and those who held magic in their hands. We have supped and laughed and cried some, but mostly told the tales that love spun out of gold. It was…

  • The Deep Within. . . is the connection. . .

    I scribed October 10, 1983. . . We wait for this day.  You hear the arguments in the head and you think all the while the hands do the mind’s bidding.  In this we find a great interest and comfort knowing that it is possible to function in a secular life and continue to grow. …