Category: Poetry

  • And we go home. . . .

      And we go home. . . What will you do when fatigue overcomes and chores lay waiting and heart and conscience say you must speak to these babes? The work of your hands gives them a piece of you to hold and a piece of your heart. In it all will be gold. Take…

  • In A More Perfect World. . .

    There were just a few of us gathered when we were young and the talk was rising in enthusiasm about what a swath to be cut by the young on the political scene.  There was energy and ideas with a tail wind to push these things to fruition.  We would make a difference where our…

  • On Wings Of Hope. . . .

    Once Covered With Dreams. . . . Some may think there might be no choice on anyone’s part for any thing.   All things may be a matter of destiny.   Many think there are choices in all avenues.  But supposing there are no conscious options.  Supposing conscience already speaks on issues and there are no…

  • Show Me. . .the highest altar of the Mind. . . .

    It was only in rereading the journals for August of ’17 that I happened to come across these words.  Oftentimes I don’t get back to entries long after they are written.  And then I  am often humbled by what is given.  I am in the midst of this mental conference and when fatigue overcomes,  I…

  • With Full Knowledge of the Song. . . .

    The Last Bird Sings. . . They said the pressures were such that would have put a pipe fitter under the foundation. . . I, naive, thought when I heard that she would not know she was between waxed sheets under a hot iron thought they talked of you. . . And I, obviously impaired…

  • The Cut Of The Cloth. . . .

      Several years ago I wrote that an elderly once said to me people only know what you tell them.  My reaction was a gasp! because she believed that.   There was no exposure to people more knowledgeable or more observant than she.  Although she would adamantly vow her God knew everything and nothing was forever…

  • In Good Hands. . .

        In Good Hands. . . . I will invite you to sit beside me on my couch. . . To lean into my arms to wrest the fatigue from a body grown weary with age. . . It will come to nothing, this fatigue with aging because the heart of you is alive…

  • I’ve Taken Flight. . . .

        A Conversation  . . . You say. . .  I’ve taken flight. . . . . and I say. . . . where can you go that I could not find you? And you say. . . . farther than you think. I’ve found me a world so far away that never would…

  • The Keys Of The Kingdom. . . .

    The Keys of the Kingdom. . . My good friend appeared at the door and said you have to learn to play and we start now.  Alas, another argument begun about our differences , proving again opposites can be friends. It is my good fortune and sometimes a curse to have the ability to view…

  • Around The Bend. . .

      Today I sit in the midst of my birthday of 87 years.  It is quiet.  In rereading journals where I was told if you want a good book to read,  write it,  I am finding truth. Rarely do I remember if it was cereal for breakfast and therefore rereading the saga I wonder what…