Poems

A SWEET LIFE (however bitter) Sunshine trickling through The branches gently swayed By a silent barely-detectable breeze, Like your sweet life sifting Sifting through time Like powdered sugar, sprinkled-dusted On a dozen warm donuts in the cold Heat of winter, On a dozen warm donuts in the cool Heat of summer morns. Yes, sunshine trickling Trickling through Like sixty five years, Years of a sweet life.

We are born to love and be loved.  Our brain is literally wired for love.  But it doesn't take much for us to begin protecting ourselves from love.  It begins very early, sometimes from the beginning.    We are all imperfect parents, and sometimes we unwittingly abandon our children, sometimes with the good intentions of teaching them life's lessons, not knowing that the lesson we teach is to protect yourself from love.  As parents, in a moment of frustration, we have all said something like, "After all the terrible things you said to me, including that you hate me, and now, you want me to give you a hug?  Really?  Maybe tomorrow!"    I know, for myself, my almost 70 year journey continues.  I continue to learn how deeply I have buried my heart and my soul to protect them both from what seems to be the pains of love.  The reality is that love is not painful.  Love is wonder filled.  But by the time we get to a pl...

Perhaps too late, Perhaps not, I really had no idea Who you were or who you are. I knew you were different Perhaps even divine. I knew I wanted to run with You, Well, until it came to this, And then I ran the other way. I never saw it coming, That you would be arrested. I surely wasn’t willing to take on, To fight the Roman soldiers. I admired Peter Drawing his sword and attacking, But you, for some strange reason, Insisted he put his sword away. Why was that? So many things you shared with us, So many things you did, None of them we understood. I woke this morning hoping Hoping perhaps you were here again, Hoping perhaps you could hear me. I am running now, Obviously not running with You. They killed you, they did. Well, I guess I killed You. I certainly abandoned You. But I’m running to where they laid You Hoping, Hoping beyond the beyond, Perhaps even dreaming, Dreaming I will find You...

Photo by Istvan Markus. In They Need Someone.Will We Be The One? http://devotedconversations.com/they-need-someone-will-we-be-the-one/ As we approach Holy Week, We often marvel, Marvel at how much Jesus loved us, Loved us enough to die for us. We are moved Contemplating the face of Jesus, Blood dripping, crowned, Crowned with thorns; His body whipped and bleeding. Veronica's veil , by  Claude Mellan (c. 1649). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_Face_of_Jesus Finally, His body hung, Hung on a cross with nails, Nails in his hands and feet. The final insult of a spear, A spear thrust through Thrust through his side, into his heart. I pray us to continue, To continue looking at Jesus’ face, Jesus’ tortured body. Now, take the risk, The risk to remove our belief, Our belief that Jesus was crucified For our salvation. Take the risk to suspend our notion That Jesus’ body is tortured by our sins. It’s certainly a soothing be...

Pinned from mentalalchemy.tumblr.com T ell me about the stars,” she said. “Their shimmering sparkling Scream shining.  Only remnants? How can that be?” she asked. “What perhaps is,” I said “Or perhaps what once was, Screams, as you say, across the universe, Finding its way to a minute opening In both time and space, Into the inner circle of your vision And beyond, where By the time you cherish the star, It may be alive in the heavens or maybe not. “So stars are different from love,” she said. “For love may at times Scream across the great expanse, The universe of you and me,  But unlike the stars, The love we see, The love we cherish, The love that plays rhythms, Rhythms on our hearts Is always there. Love leaves no remnants, No light years to calculate, No years at all. Like you and me, Love just is. Yes, we Just are – Love. ...

Huffing and puffing, Moving my feet at a quickened pace, Three and half miles per hour To be exact, The sun, Still blinding and irritating, although It had begun its decent to its hiding place Somewhere behind the ever-changing horizon, (It just never sits still that horizon), I rested a half-dozen times at least To capture the yellow beast in its daily twilight ritual. With my digital lasso, of course. My own twilight ritual. When only a narrow band of autumn-burnt orange remained, The curious specter appeared. Her bright venusian light Dispersed into five sparkling diamonds By my glassless eyes, Appearing like a distant marquis,  Called to me. “Who are you?” I whispered in my heart. “It’s me,” you replied.

When I look into your eyes, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. When I feel the gentle drumbeat of your heart, The rhythms of your soul, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. When I sense the timber changing, Your heart sounding the call To your passion and mine, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. When I feel your luscious lips Just barely touching mine, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. When I feel our bodies coming together, Dancing in sheer bliss, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. When our hearts are open, no strings attached, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. No rules, no score to keep, Not even words to understand, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. No fear, no judgment,  Your hand in mine, mine in yours, It is truly right and just to give YOU thanks. Truly right and just to give YOU thanks, O Lord For YOUR gift of...