Archive | June, 2013

The Final Gesture

Tell me what you want to hear
and I will say it.

But do not ask me what I think,
for I will tell you.

The time for play,
for games has passed
and already written legibly,
are the words no eye
intent upon seeing will miss,
or ears intent upon hearing
will fail to hear.

Riddles plague us,
confusing,  diluting,
to allow the throat to swallow
what the mind cannot masticate.

Playthings, toys abound
and crowd the issues,
pressing for attention.

At once the lessons
driven home seem hard to bear,
but with the arms up-thrust
in desperation,

the final gesture lifts man up.


A Human Drama

People are wonderful but persons are an annoyance.

Our so called ‘love of people’ serves to hide our very limited love of persons.

When we cannot love persons,  what good to say we love people?

It costs nothing to love the world.   It cost much to love the ones sharing
your space, your pocketbook and your genetic history.

The aged are all Hera’s clinging to a life slipping.

The camouflage systems we construct are so intricate that an
architect would be proud and no doubt win awards for.

When stress becomes unbearable,  we are then pressed to broaden
our understanding and learn.

Worrying is an advanced form of thinking.   Worrying is work.

It is a wonder how we as humans can endure the anguish of loss
when we hold no knowledge of other worlds.

When man truly wants to learn,  he will.   Spirit discerns the
well intentioned and the readiness of the student.

When an ideal is realized,  it becomes tiresome and tiring to keep
moving the carrot on the stick.

Man at some point realizes that the hunger within requires more
and more and less and less of what is on Earth’s table.


Beggar’s Prayer

I come with the Grace
of all those I beseech, quietly.
In all names holy.

My work, done with love,
in prayerful attendance to life,
to acknowledge the birdsong
extolling the morning and
awakening the sun
in triumph over night.

Sending the mist
to dissipate over the Mount,
to nudge the sleeping sages
into activity,
to secure the earth’s roving
in this sea of tranquility.

I acknowledge my blessings
where I am, but I beg . . . . . . .

Extinguish the desires of old men
who miss their spoils of war,
and if allowed would set fire
to the hearts of the young
to do their bidding;
negating the work of mothers
who taught their children to love one another
from the first time a sibling
invaded their space.

I beg for lives to be spared
so families can sup together,
that children will again
have parents on the premises.
Begging you also
to hone the values
that would have us carrying one another.

I beg this beggar’s prayer
so that man who denies
his own godliness will one day see

the common ground of his divinity.


Wrongful Death

We have put so much faith in the medical profession but they ultimately cannot deliver us
from death.  Oftentimes in our western culture, agonies are prolonged as surrounding
relatives make their peace with what a very wise teacher once said to a student,  the only
thing you have to do is die.   The homework is up to you.   And often the departure is fraught with negatives.   The biggest being our inability to leave with dignity.   For then we are stripped of our freedoms;  the freedom to leave with a mind intact.   Is this the purpose of a life?  Is death so ominous that a breathing body vacant of spirit is preferable?

Preparation should have allowed for the personality to keep as much of its functioning self
as possible.  Medical science can make it easier for leave taking on both sides when what we leave is a body still recognizable with a spirit of the beloved we know.   It does not help when our memories are fraught with last months and years of pain that distort the image of the one held dear.  Medicine often negates all we tried to do in life.   When the body is programmed for long life it would be best if we also programmed the mind.

With so much emphasis on the body, we have left no time to fill the mind with nourishment befitting a body determined for immortality.   The spirit makes the break.  Little by little ,  the time spent away from the body is longer.   The tenuous thread,  the linkage to the heart in desperation breaks.   And by that time,  who we were can no longer be recognized.  The civilities, the niceties that we encouraged through the many years have departed with the spirit intact.   These are what makes a civilization humane,  civilized and what is left is Cro-Magnon.

The mind that has been fed, that has been nourished, has the right to what medical science offers.  But this mind will also call a halt to procedures that no longer give sustenance but instead steals from it its dignity.   The population at large has not availed itself to the study of man’s place in the universe   Has not availed itself to what has been offered as guidelines, as nourishment for the spirit.   It has not taken as gospel what we all should know from the time of birth. . . . that death too is part of the living process, the earth process.   And if we have accorded dignity to life itself, then death must be included.

To program a body for long life but starve a mind is criminal.   We are deluged with information as to what to do to keep the body active, to keep it healthy.   We are a world of proof that a healthy body,  one told to eat whatever is newsworthy at the moment will result in a body that fights diseases, that will be able to withstand everything.   And yet we will meet death, if not in our youth by misfortune, then in our dotage with a body so well taught that it will continue to do what it is we taught it from day one.  Yet the mind, the spirit has subsisted on kindergarten fare.  On porridge.   And we are left to wonder why mother or papa are not the persons we knew and if we loved them so much yesterday how could they change so fast to being mean and ugly today?

And where the peace and resolve of the unresolved that are suppose to occur at the bedside?  Where the reconciliations when the unable in body are also unable and absent in mind?  And where the spirit of the beloved who has nurtured us in ages past, the linkage to what was, as our children will be the link in the future to what we were?  The emotional tie will be non existent for the grandchildren.   The last memories will be the only memories for some and for the others,  the last memories will be wiped out as not being part of life.   And both are damaged, for unless we  rearrange our priorities, reprogram ourselves, rewrite the lesson plans,  the last memories will continue to be part and parcel of life in this 21st century.

What to do?   Feed the mind as well as the body.   As we stretch the body,  we must also stretch the mind.   New concepts, old ideas made relevant,  religions made vital, philosophers resurrected and visionary poetry made mandatory.  Literature to be taught and understood with today’s technology, in today’s high tech world has application in the dailyness of each of us.   Along with the ability to compute anything and everything, should be stretched the mind’s ability to grasp spiritual concepts to enrich the person.   It will prove to be practical in the long run.   And the result will be characters of substance befitting the body programmed for life everlasting.


Loved Into Being

I said,

‘You have to take it
or you cannot play
the game at all.

The lessons, like plants,
cannot be absorbed by osmosis,
if they are
to reach the head
and heart.

What would be
the purpose of the lesson
if it could not
be applied
where you are?

Love is played for real
and we may be the idea
loved into being;
carried like a brother
on your back.

It will again be the stuffs
other dreams are dreamed of.’



Winner of Common Thread Give-a-way

I am pleased to announce the winner of our Common Thread Give-a-way.  And she is Julie.    So if Julie will contact me at I will send a copy of The Last Bird Sings to her.   I hope she will enjoy the book and that it will become a favorite friend to go back to visit many times.

And to the other artists and writers of Common Thread,   Kim Gifford of  Pugs and Pics, Jane McMillen of little house home arts, Rachel Barlow of picking my battles,  Jon Katz of and Maria from  my thanks go out to you for supporting the arts.    To Maria, who has been a wonderful cyber friend and has a  following of loyal readers,  thank you especially for your support.

And my thanks go to all the wonderful readers who not only sent in their names but also took the time to look at upper floor.   I hope I can keep you interested with my blog so that I too,  will become a favorite place to go to.  I look forward to your comments and appreciate your time with me.


Common Thread Give-a-way

ExhibitionIt is a pleasure to be a guest on the Common Thread Give-a-way.   Involved are  Kim Gifford  ( Pugs and Pics)      and Jane McMillen ( little house home arts)   and Rachel Barlow (picking my battles)   and then Maria Wulf ,    I am offering my book called The Last Bird Sings  to the winner.   Names will be selected from comments.  They will go into a box  and be picked randomly.  The contest is run from Monday, June 3 rd until Wednesday the 5th.  I will announce the winner on Thursday the 6th of June.   I am looking forward to joining these highly talented women and cannot tell you how delighted I am to have been asked to be a guest.   I hope that many of you will spend some time looking at my work and comments are always appreciated.   To know that my work reaches and relates to some of you is rewarding.  I have posted an excerpt from the book which is part memoir and part philosophy.   I hope you will find it interesting.


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