THE WORLD IS READY FOR LOVE

I do not believe hate can destroy hate. Hate only intensifies when more hate is added to the flames.  Love is the only way to keep hate from growing.   Love’s powerful emotion will gradually smooth and soothe until hate runs and hides.  Only love can mend broken people, broken nations, and broken hearts.

 

The world tries to hide its shame.  Wars, rape, hunger–who’s to blame?

“Turn off the news!” someone shouts.  “It’s going to be another terrible day.”

When you close your eyes and cry, and do nothing except watch someone die,

Are you giving up without another chance to try?

The words of poets are powerful and should wake us and inspire,

I think we have a bigger purpose than simply preaching to the choir.

My friends, I hear voices from the graves.  They honor poets and writers

as those who are brave.  Words that carry love and dissipate hate will live long after our bones have crumbled.  Speak up and let love once again retake our land. Go in peace and love.

June 29, 2017

 

HIBERNATE

Let’s hibernate together when the first snow falls,

or make plans to go south when the lead goose calls.

“Hurry up, or we’ll be late,

This is a special time for us. Don’t you remember our first date?”

I was impatient, anxious to go,

But you emerged like a butterfly, my eyes got large, and my heart said, “Whoa!”

Each year with you is better than ever,

and I want to hold you for a day and forever.

We’ll lock the cave door and turn off the light,

and cuddle passionately all through this magical night.

I don’t want intruders to interrupt our sleep,

We’ll love intensely, hard and deep,

Let’s hibernate together when the first snow falls,

or make plans to travel when the first goose calls.

June 27, 2017

Imagining

wheelWHEEL

I was given a long flexible stick

And told to make something useful.

As a traveler and hunter for my tribe,

I set out to complete this task,

But did the elders know what they asked?

A wheel can mark a hunter’s domain,

Marking the outer edge of his territory,

 an equidistance from the center point,

and keeping him close to home.

We were following buffalo, dear, and other game,

Dragging our tepees across the plain.

When wheels were attached to a cart,

They became an essential part,

Allowing the cart to travel smoothly

With a bigger load.

A small fire carried as a light,

Marked a circle around us and

Helped us find our way in the darkest night.

And as we were later told,

A wheel of light helped sailors

Stay away from rocky shore,

Crashing on rocks nevermore.

Later, when we had time to invent,

One man stationary at a center point while another walked,

Our tribe developed a sprinkling system,

Circular and precise, measured with string,

An easy way to keep track of everything.

But did the elders know how much we could learn

By inventing with a stick, twine, and imagining?

June 27, 2017

THROUGH YOUR EYES

I want to travel the world through your eyes,

Finding love and treasures beyond the skies.

My poems may tell of adventures I found,

But my heart will always be homeward bound.

Everything I am, you taught me to feel,

Without your love, nothing is real.

My heart is packed to travel light,

I wish,  I wish, with all my might,

To be with you all through the night.

I miss your laughter, your love, your charms,

You should be next to me, within my arms.

I am growing older with each passing day,

And yet my love grows stronger in every way.

You make me need your love within,

And yes, it’s true, I miss skin to skin.

I claim your heart as I dream about you,

Dancing in darkness until morning dew.

All my life I waited for your kiss,

But I never believed the passion would be like this.

I’ll be in your heart and your dreams too,

Walking, dancing, and loving you.

I’ll travel the world as you cross the sea,

But when you need love, come home to me.

June 26, 2017

CRINGE

Whenever I make a huge mistake I cringe inside, upset with myself for making such a blunder.  I find many mistakes in my life and I try to correct them as I go.  Unfortunately, I’m falling behind.  I can’t catch them all. My only consolation is that my repairs turn into experience and experience turns into wisdom.  And if all else fails, I will sit quietly and let everyone think I’m wise.

I cringe when I think there is so much I can do to help others. There is so little time and so much I could do. I know I don’t help enough. I used to complain I was the one who was hurt, but I’ve learned to complain less.

I think I was born lonely with a huge empty place in my heart waiting to be filled with love. Others couldn’t make me happy with shovelfuls of love. I couldn’t wait for that.  I had to bring love to the world and the empty space will fill up.  Love always replaces itself. I decided that if I do kind deeds, love others with passion, and treat all people with respect, love will be there flowing through me.

I cringe when I think of wasted years, wasted tears, all because I held on to negative ideas and pain, when I could have used the power within to help others.  To love others without reward keeps my heart overflowing.  I can reach out to friends, family, and strangers. This world is tough and I am ready to help.

june 25, 2017

 

DEBBIE

                SHE FORGOT TO WRITE HER NAME

She was in a rush, at least walking fast.

I thought she might walk on past,

But she didn’t.

She became intrigued by what I was asking.

Asking questions about what her friends knew,

And when they knew it, sort of presidential questions.

“Who are you, and why are you questioning them?” she asked.

“It’s a fun way of finding out more information about friends,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, evidently not convinced.

“Put down ten questions about yourself with answers,” I said.

“Everybody has secrets, more than what you read.”

She was convinced suddenly, and her questions flowed like water in a stream,

Tumbling one after another, as in a rapidly growing dream.

“I want to see what you see when you talk about me.”

Then she blurted, “I want you to make a poem about me!”

In case you are ready to assign blame,

Debbie is her name. Also known as ‘LIL Debbie.

She loves being a grandma with nine kids,

And loves her own three children, if you should ask.

She loves to travel, evidently enjoying the company of others,

Every day she does extra things that make people smile,

 whether it’s a friend, a patient or a stranger.   

She’s married and she loves the food her husband cooks.

Debbie is a shopper extraordinaire, using coupons to have fun

But still stay on a budget.

Debbie was a single mom with three children and three jobs

For many years.  That kept her strong through the years of tears.

Debbie might ask anyone some questions, as I found out.

She wants answers that don’t leave any doubts.

She had to scramble to keep up with her kids,

And she learned to be a multitasker in order to cope.

Debbie is an optimist with lots of hope. 

If you want more information look for her smile,

Then sit her right down and chat for a while.

chope,years of tears,chat, June 24, 2017

CLOSE-KNIT FAMILY(part 2)

The close-knit family was not showing up for work. I tried to find out where they lived but I had no success until I arrived home three weeks later. Rebekkah did not look well. Her eyes were swollen, her hair tangled, and her clothes wrinkled.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied.
I kept asking and finally Jacob called me aside.  “This is something we cannot talk about. It’s painful and terrible.  We haven’t found the end of the problem yet. Just so you know, two weeks ago Joe was with friends at our house and they took too many drugs.  Joe and his friends raped Rebekkah.  Some of our family are looking for Joe. It’s about family honor and revenge.  We are trying to get back to normal but Joe will never be safe.”
“Where is he staying?” I asked.
“We heard he was heading for California but we lost his trail. We’ll find him.”
That night I was awakened from a sound sleep by a man’s voice.  “Help me,” he pleaded. “I didn’t know what I was doing. My cousins want to kill me. I need money to fix my car so I can get away.  Do you have more trees I can cut down?”
I looked down the hallway. A man sat hunched over on the floor, his arms around his knees. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
I walked towards him but he disappeared before I got there.  After a few minutes of searching I gave up. Twice more I heard him and twice more he was not really there.  “Hide me,” he whispered.
The house was built against a cliff and there was a small space with a door left between concrete and rock. I didn’t intend to ever open that door because many copperhead snakes thrived there. I never saw Joe again nor did I hear his voice.  I wanted no part of their close-knit family.
june 24, 2017

TIGHT-KNIT FAMILY

Illusion

What I expected from life and what turned out to be real were often opposites.  The truth was sometimes only an illusion waiting to be revealed at a later date.

Several years ago I lived alone in a large house near Kansas City, Missouri.  The house was new and I wanted to keep it clean for all the guests who wandered through during the afternoons. The house was like an art gallery, with seventy-four water-color paintings situated throughout  the house. There were three floors and people who were not accustomed to stairs were warned about the physical strength required. I’m telling you this because you might understand later what I had to do.

I would begin cleaning in the master bedroom on the third floor and gradually work my way down to the recreation room and storage rooms.  I could never get completely finished before starting over again. That’s why I hired a family business to take over two times a month.

The business was run by a woman and her two brothers.  She was clearly the one in charge, and each had certain tasks to do. Rebekkah, the manager and owner, kept everyone on task, stopping only for short breaks. She cleaned the bathrooms and the kitchen, because everyone noticed appliances and fixtures.  Jacob, the youngest brother vacuumed and dusted.  Joe, the oldest, was the fix-it man and landscape man.  They appeared to work as a unit, always close by. I began to believe that if there was a problem all would help as a unit.

On a scheduled cleaning day no one showed up.   “Odd,” I thought. I waited, but there were no calls. “What’s going on?” I wondered. “This is so unlike them.”

But outside, there were three trees on the ground, cut into firewood, ready to be brought up and stored near the house.  I assumed Joe had been there, doing his job.

The next day when I arrived home after work, the house was clean.  Still, no one was there and there were no calls or notes.

(illusion continued)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The house was too big for one person to keep clean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Illusion
What I expected from life and what turned out to be real were often opposites.  The truth was sometimes only an illusion waiting to be revealed at a later date.
Several years ago I lived alone in a large house near Kansas City, Missouri.  The house was new and I wanted to keep it clean for all the guests who wandered through during the afternoons. The house was like an art gallery, with seventy-four water-color paintings situated throughout  the house. There were three floors and people who were not accustomed to stairs were warned about the physical strength required. I’m telling you this because you might understand later what I had to do.
I would begin cleaning in the master bedroom on the third floor and gradually work my way down to the recreation room and storage rooms.  I could never get completely finished before starting over again. That’s why I hired a family business to take over two times a month.
The business was run by a woman and her two brothers.  She was clearly the one in charge, and each had certain tasks to do. Rebekkah, the manager and owner, kept everyone on task, stopping only for short breaks. She cleaned the bathrooms and the kitchen, because everyone noticed appliances and fixtures.  Jacob, the youngest brother vacuumed and dusted.  Joe, the oldest, was the fix-it man and landscape man.  They appeared to work as a unit, always close by. I began to believe that if there was a problem all would help as a unit.
On a scheduled cleaning day no one showed up.   “Odd,” I thought. I waited, but there were no calls. “What’s going on?” I wondered. “This is so unlike them.”
But outside, there were three trees on the ground, cut into firewood, ready to be brought up and stored near the house.  I assumed Joe had been there, doing his job.
The next day when I arrived home after work, the house was clean.  Still, no one was there and there were no calls or notes.
(illusion continued)

i

The house was too big for one person to keep clean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

COMMITTED

Commit is a strange word having many meanings.  I just explained what it meant to me when I accidently hit a wrong key.  I spent the next thirty minutes pulling out my hair, screaming at myself for being so left brained, (or is it right brained?).  I was ready to be committed, locked up for the night or more, simply because I had earlier made a commitment to write about one word for the day.  I want to keep my word, even if just for myself.

For me to commit to love or life

used to have an old fashioned meaning

to me it was a covenant

a pledge of fidelity, love, and honor

to husband or wife.

meaning vows that could not be broken,

not just a momentary token.

I am sad to say this very day

there are temporary marriages,

disposable in society’s eyes,

easily tossed away even if someone cries.

lasting until someone deemed better,

for richer or more, better looking,

something external, surreal

not honesty, hard work that’s real,

committed to more than temporary ideal.

someone who is like fool’s gold,

a flash in the pan, but otherwise worthless.

My love, life, and future was based on biblical teachings and the examples of my parents and siblings. My commitments were based on covenant and sacred vows, my word, and my own way of choosing who I am. I write and select the things kept safe in my heart, and I am ashamed when I fail myself or others. I am committed to my personal beliefs and that commitment, such as respect for all people, drives me forward to our future.

june 23, 2017

PAPER, WASTED

I know I waste too much paper.  I throw away stacks of paper when one of my characters takes a wrong turn and I have to rewrite her direction,  her moods, and her new plans.  If there’s a conflict a whole chapter may be filled with worst case scenarios. Only the final scenes determine which pages remain and which ones burn. Even poetry burns hotter some nights.

Long ago stories were chiseled on rock pages, and were much heavier than paper. Happy was the poet when he could do a little trimming and make his story lighter before he put it on his blog. A long story had to wait until paper was invented and ready to waste. the first story had to be short and sweet. It might have been told like this.  “I threw my spear with skill, moved village near kill.”

The Romans cut the stories even shorter. “Veni, Vidi, Vici.”

There were no paper magazines to advertise clothing. It was use hides and cloth or nothing. Paper was still gaining status until finally it was used as waste, one catalogue page at a time.

Pulp fiction took on a new meaning and paper became the norm. Those who star in the program, “Naked and Afraid,” must have tricks up their sleeves or hidden somewhere or they couldn’t turn down “paper or plastic.” Natural materials are not always as soft as paper.

Once in a country with less wealth and less waste, I discovered huts with cardboard walls.  I was amazed to see toilet paper used once, dried, and used again. I was more careful with waste paper after that. I want to leave this planet cleaner and as a responsible man, not as a paper tiger.

june 22, 2017