Lazy Day

The water was
dark and brown,
two turtles rested on a nearby log
soaking in the sun.

A large grey heron swooped lazily down
landing effortlessly
while looking around for a tasty morsel treat.

Overhead a squawking jay served as sentinel
to warn of my intrusion into its domain.

All I wanted was to sit and dip a line
into the cool brown pool.

Perhaps an unsuspecting fish would seek
the dangling worm on the end of my line.

Even if there were no takers
I wouldn't mind.

It just was a chance to visit
the calm and quiet of that dark and cool
pool as it just drifted by.

Thoughts of nothingness clouded an
otherwise empty mind.

It was just a lazy day,
warm and friendly sitting by that
dark and brown pool
with a drifting line.

Cares drifted away
like the white fluffy clouds high above.

So why spoil a beautiful day.

The Slave

From a far away land he was brought in chains
In a dark hole of a black ship he was sold for gains.
His life belonged to another,
And to the highest bidder he was sold to his keeper’s brother.
He worked from first light to past the setting sun
And then did more until the work was done.
Six days a week, with rest on one
He toiled at hard labor under the scorch of the sun.
The crack of a whip
Brought no words from his lips
He just looked down
And worked without a sound.
For his labors he received not a cent,
He did and went where he was sent.
A crude shelter he called his home
Worn clothes were all that covered his bones.
Of family he was not allowed any
And friends, truly there were not very many.
When his life was ended in a rude bed he was laid,
And his worn body then placed in an unmarked grave.

We Will Not Be Quiet!

Note: Written in response to the assertion by the elected officials in Washington that the citizens calling themselves Tea Partiers were a bunch of political radicals and crackpots.

They want the people to go away
To keep quiet
shhhh…. don’t say a word.
But…we’re not!
We the people elected them!
Why should we stay quiet?
This is our country!
We are the people!
We are the voters!
We own this country…not the elected officials!
So..why should we be quiet?
Why should we go away!
Who in the hell are those elected officials anyway!
Get out! Get out of my government! I don’t want you anymore!
“….when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.” [Declaration of Independence]

Fading Memory

Things can come, things can go
With a mind that has become so slow,
I cannot keep a thought for long
As I continue to go along.

This river of time I find myself in
Just keeps on going and I can't remember when.
My thoughts stay jumbled and finally lost,
Will I not be able to have a mind on the mend?

Age and memory aren't much fun,
When that river of time keeps going and you have none.
A fading mind is like a day that is ending
All that's left is a thought that needs mending.

.....?? Nuts!!

Misty Rain

Misty rain is all I see
Misty rain all around me.
Lost in the storms of life somewhere
It's almost more than a soul can bear.

Time is an ever rolling thing,
Losing friends in a never ending game.
Lost forever in a world not the same,
Darken skies shedding its rain.

A veil of time like a sentinel stands
Waiting for the summons to enter its land.
Many a friend is lost to its call,
All will enter this misty wall.

Misty rain is all I see
Misty rain all around me.
Tell this story to all around
Friends depart and are not to be found.

Walk in a world dark and grey
Without old friends to light the way.
Misty rain is all I see
Misty rain all around me.

When in time a summons I hear
To my earthly cradle I go without fear.
There my old friends, with arms open wide,
Will lead me to the other side.

From that misty veil one cannot hide
All must enter to get to the other side.
A time of joy follows a day of tears
As friends are waiting to remove all our fears.

In the Arena

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt, "Citizenship in a Republic,"
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910

Winter Blues

Brown and grey and sometimes green,
A smattering of color is seldom seen.
Dark and threatening is the day
But through it all shines forth an occasional ray.

Cold as ice, the wind blows strong
Cutting through coats and hats pulled down long.
The long days’ blues never seem to end
As I wait for the spring to begin.

Once in a while it seems to let up
But again comes the blast I never can get past.
A happier time I thought I had seen
Only to be forgotten with the loss of a little green.

The snow piles higher, the wind blows colder
And still the long days’ blues grow older.
Spring it seems will never arrive
No, not as long as the cold continues to thrive.

Brown and grey and sometimes green,
A smattering of color is seldom seen.
Dark and threatening is the day
But through it all shines forth an occasional ray.

Out on the lawn in the midst of it all
I looked to see what was searching for a nest.
A creature even lonelier than the sun,
It was a stranger with a red-breast.

Life and time do not stand still
There comes a change in all around
The days’ grow longer, the wind dies down
And with the warmth of the sun
Another season is done.

On The Wings of an Eagle

If I had the wings of an eagle
I would soar to the heights of the sky,
To look down on the beauty of life itself
And the marvels of creation from on high.

I can imagine all that our Creator does see
As He watches from heaven above,
Every creature, every thing that He has made,
Every beauty, each thing how he must love.

If I had the wings of an eagle
I would soar to the heights of the sky,
To look down on the beauty of life itself
And the marvels of creation from on high.

Can you imagine what it would feel like
To soar through the clouds way up above,
To kiss the edge of Heaven itself,
And feel the touch of God's own love.

Oh, if I had the wings of an eagle
How I could feel so free from earth beneath.
To soar to the very heights of the sky,
And enjoy the quiet of the clouds soaring by.

If I had the wings of an eagle
I would soar to the heights of the sky,
To look down on the beauty of life itself
And the marvels of creation from on high.

There is a River Deep and Wide

Note: This was written following the funeral of a good friend
who passed away following a very long battle with cancer.

There is a river deep and wide
I am bound to find a way to the other side.
I have labored here long and hard,
And now I long just to see my Lord.

There is a time for everything in life we are told,
Work, and play and friends and all I've had.
But,all I have done is work to the bone,
Now I just want to go on home.

There is a river deep and wide
I am bound to find a way to the other side.
I have labored here long and hard
And now I long just to see my Lord.

Many a friend, foe and kin have all left this land
And now have taken their stand
On the banks of that river deep and wide.
Now I am left to stand alone
looking for a way to the other side.

There is a river deep and wide
I am bound to find a way to the other side.
I have labored here long and hard
And now I long just to see my Lord.

There is a glorious day coming
When I cross that river deep and wide
To take my stand on the other side.
For I have labored here long and hard
And then I will be with my beloved Lord.

There is a Grace in this Land

There is a Grace in this land
That comes from One who is close at hand.
Not from that which I can do,
But, a gift from the One whose voice is my command.

I walk through life as though a ghost,
Not knowing from one day to the next
Just what I am to do,
But, guided by One who knows that I am perplexed.

Faith and trust is the command,
I wait in hope of serving the Man,
And then a voice do I hear
Go and tell them who I AM.

Time and again I asked for His word
To let me hear in my time of fear.
In the dark I cried out,`Lord I hurt'.
Then I heard, `I'm here!'.

There is a Grace in this land
That comes from One who is close at hand.
Not from that which I can do,
But,a gift from One whose voice is my command.

Times of trouble and hurt I have seen,
By my efforts nothing could make me clean.
It was the Grace from He above,
Who saved this wretch with nothing but His Love.

There is a Grace in this land
That comes from one who is close at hand.
Not from that which I can do,
But,from a gift from One whose voice is my command.

I Heard a Voice in the Night-Time Calling

I heard a voice in the night-time calling
As soft and gentle as a summer breeze.
I heard a voice in the night-time calling
It flowed about me as a gentle wind through the trees.

I heard a voice in the night-time calling
One that was as clear as a lark in the trees.
A sound that made me wonder,
If the call was coming on a far-off breeze.

My heart leapt at the sound
So gentle and yet so real.
It made me wonder if I was dreaming,
It all seemed just so surreal.

I heard a voice in the night-time calling,
As soft and gentle as a summer breeze,
I rose in the night, looked far and near,
And answering said, "I am here".

When a voice is heard in the night-time calling
As soft and gentle as a summer breeze.
When a voice is heard in the night-time calling
That it seems to flow as a gentle wind through the trees.

It is a voice calling each of us
A voice from far, yet so near.
It is the voice of the blessed one
Seeking - one to come here.

Searching

Like a restless wind that blows across our lives
Our souls search through doors only to find boundless sighs.
Always seeking, but not yet finding
Answers to questions that never stop hiding.

Many souls are always searching
Following the restless winds of life.
Like companions on a journey all seek to find
Unknown answers to questions that have no sign.

Not a stone unturned, not a road not traveled
Always looking as though with a common thread binding
This band of travelers seeking, but not finding.

A restless wind blows across our lives
Like the universe that never ends,
Searching, searching never growing weary
For the chase of an answer that life won't send,
Not too far, but yet so far, we run about
On a quest for life that has no end.

Quite a band of travelers are we
who seek to find, but yet cannot see.
Always searching, like a restless wind
Blowing across our lives
On another chase to send.

Who can be satisfied in a world of known
When there is so much to seek,
That is like the wind that has blown.
Always seeking, but not yet finding
Answers to questions that never stop hiding.

Dedicated to James Kavanaugh, whose writings of There are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves gave me the inspiration to write this poem. I too am a searcher in life.

A New Day Given

With the setting of the sun
Another day has been won
Deep purple and red skies blend together
Mark the memories of another day forever.

Once a long, long time ago
My days seemed so dark and forlorn
But then I realized that with the passage of each
I had but to listen to the words of a sage
With words that had been handed down through the age,
That from the beauty of the setting sun
Came the anticipation of the glorious sun-rise of another one.

Time can heal all wounds of pride and heart
Each day can bring bright rays of joy for a new start.
The beauty of the setting sun
Reminds me of another day being won.

How I love to see each day that I’m given
To know that I have striven
To bring to my heart a joy of a life lived
And the anticipation of the sun-rise of a new day given.