Uncertainty: If I Whisper

If I whisper on the wind, where do my words go?
To the east, west, north or south?
How can I ever know?

If I would never whisper, where do my words go?
To clefts deeper in my soul?
How can I ever know?

If I whisper to the stars, where do my words go?
To the brightness of their light?
How can I ever know?

If I whisper to my love, where do my words go?
To the depths of his own heart?
How can I ever know?

If I whisper to the trees, where do my words go?
To the rustle of their leaves?
How can I ever know?

If I whisper to a child, where do my words go?
To another child in time?
How can I ever know?

We never know where our words go, but we know they move on.

Challenges of Love: They Say Diamonds are Forever

They say diamonds are forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
But if diamonds are forever,
Then they must be here to stay.

I think love will live forever,
Way beyond forever's day,
It's not diamonds as eternal,
No, no matter what they say.

Diamonds are a fleeting fancy,
Look and soon they will be gone;
But if love is your true diamond,
It will ever linger on.

So if you are seeking diamonds
And I know you always will,
Then just find the kind of diamonds,
That your life, with love, will fill.

Are you seeking the right kind of diamonds?

On Love: There are Those in Time Who Seek to Learn

There are those in time who seek to learn,
For knowledge true, they ever would yearn,
While others seek for some kind of bliss,
Not knowing what they will ever miss.

Some love to know about ev'rything,
With all of the secrets life can bring,
But others bound in their ignorance,
Relate to some barbarian dance.

It's our choice in time, to learn or not
And if we are doing what we ought,
We will ever seek for knowledge right,
With love as our focus, one true light.

If ignorance is what we would choose,
We have so much, even life, to lose.
Just pray that God will lead us today.
Ask for enlightenment and then say

'Thank you to those who helped to teach you
To walk in His pathways. What you do
And what you say will show ev'ryone
What work through you, love has now begun.

Love can teach those who want to learn.

Love Expressed: Sleep On, O Gentle Giant

Sleep on, O gentle Giant, while the morning breezes slumber. If we would haste to count your days, the years, we could never number.

Sleep on, O gently Giant, know early sunrise light will show, a new peace within each dawning, as Nanabijou love does glow.

Sleep on, O gentle Giant, Lake Superior's waters roll, from high waves to little wavelets. Its rhythm ever calms the soul.

Sleep on, O gentle Giant, you'll rest forever and a day. So much joy you shall awaken, in morning's beauty, you portray.

Sleep on O gentle Giant, your myst'ry ever shall run deep. Perhaps no one will ever know, all of the secrets you shall keep.

The Sleeping Giant sleeps on. 

Who I Am: I Can Draw You Closer

I can draw you closer than the blackest hours of darkest night, 

Penetrating and encompassing your weeping soul, 

To comfort you in your hour of total devastation and utter loneliness.

I can hold you tighter than the strongest cords of life or death, 

That bind with soft tendrils of warm, sincere compassion, 

To mend your hurting wounds and comfort your aching, broken heart.

I can touch you deeper than the longest, sharpest sword of tragedy, 

Piercing beyond the bones and marrow of your existence, 

To strengthen you with a warm ray of eternal love, to bring you to my self.

I can make you cleaner and purer than the wisps of feathered clouds 

That float so gently and graciously across the autumn sky 

And free you from a life of torment, pain, endless suffering and grief.

I can seal you in my heart with love, so strong that none

Can tear apart the very depths of being, the essential core of life itself. 

This is simply a claim by love for you and yours, for generations yet to come.

Love can draw you closer. 

Inspirational Poetry: Easter Morning

The quiet, peaceful, Easter morning arrives unannounced,
With its symbolic, empty cross still standing tall,
Forever having penetrated the darkness of the blackest night.
Our expectations are riding high, eternally perched on the wings of dawn.
New hope springs forth for eternal life and happiness.
A resurrection morning has already been decreed; it cannot be rescinded.
The spark of light breaking through the bare shadows of darkness,
Created by slumbering clouds on the distant horizon,
Solemnly declares a brand new day has begun.
The sleepy sun, slow to arouse, awakens in turn
A complex divergence of early morning rays,
Which seem to portray a soft image in the freshly fallen snow.
The shimmering pure light, glowing from the distance
Paints a picture that reflects the purity of new morning life;
Night has calmly given birth to new day once again.
The still icy waters glow with brilliant reflections,
Their light rays scattering, dispersing in all directions,
Like a spectrum of rainbow colors radiating through a crystal vase.
Resurrection ever certain, as always, a least forever and a day,
Predestined to proclaim once again, "The stone has been rolled away.
He is not here. He is risen. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"

Easter morning proclamation offers a message of love

. 

Combat: Fair Playing Field

Fair playing field for games of war,
Where anger, strife and tempers soar.
Where guns and ammunition play
Out strengths and weaknesses of day.
Where armored tanks pass, jet planes fly,
Thus, blackening the earth and sky.
Where lives are spent, but no one cares
And if there's even one who dares
To stake his life or her life too,
The place becomes more like a zoo.
Where man's an animal, not free
And each must fight, if all would be.
Spectacular, that show has been

Like drama from a movie screen.
Soldiers, sailors, maimed, don't lust
For more of action; hate the dust
Of ashes strewn across the land,
Beg to return to home, their stand.
And if there still might be a place,
Where anger's grief there, shows no face,
What's left of war, one soon will find,
Has robbed each soul its peace of mind.
But beckoning behind new greed,
More threats of war, no mercy seed.
Fair place to play, a war games field,
Where fruits of war are still the yield.
Our ballparks, playgrounds, all have rules
And ball games too, not played by fools.
They're played with love; the game is real.
It is a game the players feel.
It's not who wins, who loses too
But how the game is played; that's true.
Fair playing fields for games of war;
One must insist, right to the core.
When man would play barbarian ways,
He'll see the tragedy of days.
The innocent, the poor, the child,
Oft battered in the wars, so wild,
Is victim to the unfair games.
Each country in its own way names
Its playing field and war plan too.
That's where war's battles should ensue.
The sacredness of human life
Should e'er transcend the game of strife.
If man does not hold tight to love
And values true, from God above,

Then life, more lives, will e'er be lost
While man himself will pay the cost.
Fair playing fields, for war play see,
Some grace, a new reality
And shame to man whose life is spent
In wasting others, or is lent
To destroy homes or places where
There is such tragedy, despair.
So wake up world! See what you do,
In truth revealed and shame to you.
If man be man and man of grace,
No matter in what time or place,
As humble, caring, loving, kind,
He will e'er offer peace of mind
And spend his time in humble ways
Prolonging life, throughout his days
And ever focused on love's joy,
Will find new projects to employ
Himself and others, for man's good.
Pursue this task? Yes, each man should.
Humanity and fairness real
Should ultimately bear the seal
Beyond the tragedy, the pain
Of endless terror's tragic reign.
The spoils of war, not of much worth,
In contrast to each new child's birth.

Are war games played on fair playing fields?

Concern: I Heard a Sigh

I heard a sigh upon the wind,
"Yes, God is good, but man has sinned."

"Forgive all man," was my reply
And then I heard another sigh.

"Cry out for children everywhere,
Those lost, alone, in deep despair."

The wind, it sighed; it knew I heard
As if delivered, was the word.

Another wind, another day,
The sigh for children seems to stay.

The sigh for love upon the wind;
The sigh to say, "All man has sinned."

The sigh to plead but for God's grace
In ev'ry era, time and place;

The sigh for children, young and old,
Those hurt and hungry, in the cold.
The sigh for peace and end to war;
The sigh goes on forever more.

The sighing wind will come and go
Lest we forget our love to show.

Listen to the sighing of the wind.

Poems For Children: "I'm Not Going to Bed"

The sun, waking up, was just looking around,
Saw all was not right; he did not make one sound.

The moon, standing still, was not fading away,
Although it was time for the breaking of day.

The stars stopped their twinkling and one softly said,
"Oh, what is the matter? The moon's not in bed!"

The moon stood there angry; would not go away.
"It's really not fair, cause the sun gets to play."

The sun was so stunned. "But I have work to do.
I waken the flowers; show pets at the zoo."

"But I can do that! I'm not going to bed!
Just go back to sleep now!" the grouchy moon said.

"The moon's staying up!" All the stars were amazed.
"Just go back to sleep now?" The sun looked so dazed.

"If you don't go to bed, you will be so tired,"
An old star said softly. He knew he'd get fired.

"There's no place for stars in the middle of day;
Ev'ry one knows that they must go away."

"I am the king," said the moon, "And I rule!"
"What kind of crazy?" thought the sun, keeping cool.

"You know Mother Nature's in total control;
It's she, who decides, for the earth as a whole."

The moon kept insisting on having some fun.
"What I really want is to jump and to run."

"At night, there are shadows; the night is so still.
Why can't I stay up? When I want to, I will!"

"You want to stay up? Oh my, what will we do?"
The moon burst out crying, soon sun and stars, too.

"What kind of a day is this destined to be?"
"I don't know," the sun cried, "But soon we shall see."

The sun stayed in bed and went right back to sleep.
The stars hung there gently, not making a peep.

The moon roared with laughter, "I really do reign;
I rule both the night and the day once again."

And so, the moon hung there, up high all the time.
The sun stayed in bed as it just could not climb.

The day was too dark for the flowers to grow.
The pets at the zoo hid; they too, would not show.

Then one little boy, who was tired of sleep,
Cried out to the sunshine, "Oh, why won't you peep?"

"I'm in my pyjamas and here I must stay.
I want to get up! Make that moon go away!"

"I'm waiting and waiting. Oh please, do get up!
It really is morning. I must find my pup!"

My mommy and daddy, they must get up too!
Oh sun, please get up as we have things to do!

But the moon stayed high, hung there day after day,
"I am the moon and I'll never go away!"

The sun awakened when he heard that young voice,
"I am so rested, I can really rejoice!"

"Oh, I am so tired," the weary moon said,
"But if I would stay king, I can't go to bed."

He was really weary; became a half moon,
Then only a quarter and fading too soon.

The moon in full splendor, just bright for a while,
Was secretly snoozing and soon lost his smile.

Old Mother Nature was still watching there too,
"I see what's happened. I know what I'll do."

"You must be punished. You won't go to bed,
So I will just make you a half moon instead."

The moon looking stunned, did not know what to say,
"You mean that my other half's going away?"

"You are so dark and you think you are the king,
I want some laughter. I want children to sing."

"If you wish to argue, I can still make you less.
You just want to rule, so come on now confess."

"I'll give you one cycle; you'll wax and you'll wane.
Now get off to bed as your dim light's a pain."

The sun jumped up quickly from his nice, warm bed.
"I've had such a good rest," the happy sun said.

"The sun rules the day and the moon rules the night
And now there'll be peace. That's the end of the fight!"

"But as for the moon, it's to wax and to wane;
It will never rule day or cause any star pain."

"Remember it tried, but from now, evermore,
For the sun and the stars, I've evened the score."

The moon was so weary, he went right to sleep.
The sun had forever, its own place to keep.

The moon slept and slept; he did not just have fun,
Not e'er in the land of the bright midnight sun.

"Awaken, oh moon," there are some who still say,
"We just get so weary when life is all play."

Now sometimes the moon still peeks out in the light,
When the sun is supreme, the moon brings delight.

The stars are now twinkling, once more as they should,
The sun's always shining so bright, it feels good.

The flowers have blossomed. The pets at the zoo
Are all so delighted, they know what to do.

The little boy's growing and sings once again.
Love laughs up on high and says, "See, I still reign."

The day that the moon would not go to bed.

Enjoy the Silence: Jack Frost's Masterpieces

Enjoy the silence;
Jack Frost does.
He always works in total silence.
His solitary presence goes unrecognized,
As he creates each crystalline masterpiece.
His unique art form lies undiscovered,
Unknown to anyone,
Until his masterpieces are complete.
Therein lies the mystery of a work of silence,
The mastery of pure integrity,
Of artistic perfection;
Silence portrayed
As the depth of intricate design.
For Jack Frost,
And his unique, icy masterpieces,
There are no accolades.
His expressions of majestic beauty
Wait to be discovered by but a few,
In the light of early dawn.
Their majestic, abstract fragility
Magnified by the morning sun
In the silence of the icy winter air;
The works of a master mind,
An artistic genius,
Creating moments of fragile joy;
That disappear only too soon.
Enjoy the silence.
Like Jack Frost does.

Some of the greatest works of art are created in silence

Hold on a Moment: It's a New Year

A chickadee perched in a nearby tree
Heavily laden with snow, but standing tall
In the bright, winter sunlight,
In spite of its heavy burden.
He chirped joyfully.
"Hold on a moment,"
He seemed to say with his sweet melody.
"Celebrate life.
Sure, it is a new year,
But nothing has really changed.
Justice will still prevail;
Injustice cannot last forever.
The sun will continue to rise and set;
It's programmed not to forget.
The tides of time will always turn.
Love is always the order of the day,
Though the universe is subject to change.
Its timing is perfect;
Its seasons are in order.
What is destined to be cannot help but be.
Life and death are predetermined."
His gentle chirping continued.
"Don't let go; not now, not ever.
Stay strong and be of good courage.
Don't give up on yourself, others or God.
They will never give up on you."
The chickadee chirped away,
His song growing stronger than ever.
Fresh, soft snow began to fall.
The chickadee spread his wings
To the fullness of their breadth,
Mustered new strength and courage,
Shook the white fluff off his feathers,
And headed into the distant forest.
"Hold on a moment,"
He chirped again softly, as he flew by.

Nature often speaks to those who have ears to hear.

The Freedom to Choose: A Divine Gift of Love

The freedom to choose, a divine gift of love
Endowed on mankind by God up above,
Gives you the option, thus offers the way
To live in peace, as you should, day by day.

To love one another and to love God,
To love your brother, each one on this sod,
Is to choose blessing above and beyond,
To know your true self when new light has dawned.

Choosing to do right, a choice that one makes,
Forsaking all evil for other's sakes,
May not be easy; some choices are not.
Better to do right, than in sin be caught.

The freedom to choose is your judgment call;
Gift you've been given with no cost at all.
How you use your gift depends upon you;
Pray for God's guidance in all that you do.

Love is the answer for choices unclear,
The freedom to choose, a gift to hold dear.
Delight in your choices and new ones employ.
Treasure your freedom; it will give you joy.

We do not always appreciate having the freedom to choose

Layer Upon Layer: A Musical About Life

Layer upon layer, our lives we build;
Shrouded in mystery, ever love filled.
In every layer, there may be a song;
Some layers fragile while others are strong.
Mothers and fathers, grandparents and more,
Bring about changes and alter the score.
Resounding joy at the time of new birth;
Each childhood layer, precious with mirth.
Siblings and others, unique layers bring;
So does a concert where each heart can sing.
With magical moments harmony grows;
Fragments of music, each layer shows.
Sickness or sorrow, unique layers too,
So is a journey, a trip to the zoo.
Layers of discord, some layers with strife;
Disharmony, a reality, life.
Tension and turmoil, a drama, a theme,
With resolution, a director's dream.
Layer upon layer, reality knows;
Heart of a musical, a tender rose.

The layers of life may be perceived like a musical.

Our Job: Fulfill Each One's Task

Our job, the elders of the past would each
Show parents the way their children to teach.

Our job, the seniors of the past would say,
To lead our youth to a better, new day.

Our job, the teenagers of time suggest,
What's new and different is always the best.

Our job, awakening youth still proclaim,
Create a new way, break free of the same.

Our job, peace keepers have ever confessed,
Keeping the peace so that mankind is blessed.

Our job, each era perceives as its own,
Thus carving new pathways right to the bone.

Our job, follow the spirit that leads on
And fulfill our own task hither and yon.

In every era, our job it would seem,
To find a way to fulfill each man's dream.

Our job is an abstract concept subject to interpretation.

A Stubborn Man: The Homeless Man

The homeless man just left to die,
No one knew when, or even why.

"Too old to be left on the street,"
A policeman said, while on his beat.

"A stubborn man," his children said,
When in an icy storm, found dead.

"We tried to take him in, but he
Lived in his own reality."

"It was his way, or not at all,"
He scarce could walk and oft would fall.

"I live my life and that is that,
Until my Maker's home I'm at."

Unkempt, unshaven every day,
A vacant house, his place to stay.

His blanket and a cardboard box,
A scarf that looked like furry fox.

His tattered boots were worn right through.
How he lived, who really knew?

His last meal untouched, by his box;
Some kindly soul left brand new socks.

A cup of coffee, frozen ice,
Seems had been placed by someone nice.

"His cardboard box is now all mine."
Another homeless stood in line.

"His new socks are a blessing true;
That meal he missed, I'll eat it, too."

"The world to him, has not done right,"
'T'was said in darkness of the night.

"A stubborn man, did things his way,
And blessed his own," there's some will say.

The plight of the homeless is brought to light.

The Frozen Pond: Fractures in the Ice

The frozen pond,
A familiar habitat for beaver 

In the open countryside.
A glassy mirror across the icy pond
Reflecting mysterious, winter sun rays
Dancing in the blowing snow.
Minute cracks in the clear ice;
Crystal-like fragility.

Fresh animal footprints in the new snow,
Rabbits, deer silently betraying their presence,
Hiding among majestic, snow-laden trees.

A huge, oak log waiting beside a burning campfire;
The frozen pond, a skater's paradise.
Masters of proficiency
Carving symmetrical patterns in the sheer ice.

Shy lovers gently linked arm-in-arm,
Synchronized skaters
Gliding and swaying rhythmically 

In the romantic, winter moonlight.
Laughter of noisy, happy children,
Awkwardness of new skates;
A fine-tuned, balancing act.

Parent's gathering, hovering close by,
Enjoying the balmy sunshine,
Delighting in the antics of their youngsters.

Rising temperatures creating puddles; wet feet.
A sudden, loud, cracking sound
Breaking the silence,
Re-echoing through the wilderness.
A huge fracture,
A precarious crevice on the frozen pond;
Chunks of free-floating ice.

Beaver dams creating flooding problems.
New danger,
Safety of children, skaters,
A serious concern.

Country ponds can be a source of delight and present danger.

Why Did You Do This? Answers Don't Come Easy

Why things happen, man can only guess,
Trusting in God that He will bless.

Called to a life walking in trust,
Faith in the Lord, ever a must.

Man has no answers, can surmise,
God is love, all knowing and wise.

Tragedy strikes, reality;
In life or death, man should be free.

"Why did you do this?" man asks God,
Questions His reasons on this sod.

Man waits; an answer does not come;
"Where are you? Am I deaf or dumb?"

Confessing his sin, he asks again.
At times, no answer. He knows pain.

Answers don't come easy, it seems,
(Although they can occur in dreams.)

Where to find answers? Man must seek;
Blessed is he when God does speak.

God does give man answers, but he must seek them.

Waiting For a Break: Snow Bound

A bright, sunny, January day,
The dead of winter weather at its finest.
Snow, pure, soft and fluffy,
Perfect for skiing.
Enthusiasm reigns;
Excitement hovers in the air.
Anticipation, a weekend of sheer delight,
Healthy exercise, fun at its very best.
For an amateur ski team,
An excursion high in the Rockies.
Suddenly, winter's fury unleashes
An unexpected snow storm,
A full scale blizzard on the ridge.
A ski lodge, a winter retreat at its finest,
Becomes their place of refuge.
Stranded amateur skiers,
Snowbound on the ridge, a harsh reality.
The ultimate question,
"How long?"
A warm, fire in the fireplace,
Temporary consolation, at best.

The question of how to pass the time,
Playing a waiting game.
Needed break in the weather,
One that does not come quickly.
More snow overnight;
Tree branches bowing low,
Shouldering their heavy burden,
Finally surrendering their strong arms.
The next morning,
Skiers still waiting for a break;
No phones, no communication,
No snow plows, no highway access.
Worried amateur skiers
Begin to ration diminishing supplies.
"Maybe we should ski out?"
"Not a chance in this weather."
More snow, threat of an avalanche;
Growing alarm, fear, concern for the skiers.
Sudden panic, fear, ground shaking,
A loud rumbling sound
Thunders from the distance,
Drawing ever closer.
Terror strikes at the heart of the lodge.
In the village, rumors of an avalanche;
Concern for the skiers.
"Where are they?"
"Did they survive?"

Villagers waiting for a break in the weather;
The sky finally clears.
Plans underway for an aerial search.
"Hurrah!"
The amateur ski team is found;
The young people perched like birds
On the snow-covered roof top
Of the inundated ski lodge.
"Help!" stomped in the snow.
Excitement,
Elation,
Amateur ski team members waving.
Disappointment ensues;
The search and rescue helicopter leaves,
Returns later, dropping supplies.
"Patience!"
The order of the day.
The highway completely blocked,
The snow plow cannot get through.
An aerial rescue deemed in order.
Now, how to do an aerial rescue
Without causing another avalanche.

An amateur ski team is snowbound in the Rockies.

Music and Dancing: The Fiddler and the Dance

When he appears, there's no one knows just when,
Joyful music resounds throughout the glen.

Frivolity, the order of the day;
It's time to dance and yes, it's time to play,

In the distance, a fiddle soon is heard;
Music and dancing, children spread the word.

Come join the dancing; his music invites
Both young and old to share in its delights.

A campfire lit, the people gather round;
Every soul enticed by the happy sound.

Barefoot or sandals, dancing feet will say,
All caught up in the music of the day.

The old men with their bottles of sweet wine,
Women with children bring fresh loaves, so fine.

Fiddler's music, like rhythms of the tide;
Toils of the workday world are cast aside.

For the weary, a way to find release.
The eve wears on. The music does not cease;

So soft and sweet, it speaks to young and old,
Each heart to warm; there's not a one grows cold.

Faster and faster, the music will play,
The fiddler delights as ladies' skirts sway.

Tireless, he plays until the wee hours;
Never a single violin note sours.

One song, another, and yet even more;
There's no sheet music, no, not e'en a score.

Then silence reigns and the fiddler is gone
Before the sun awakens its sweet dawn.

He is a gypsy, no one turns him down;
His horse and wagon, the talk of the town.

No, a leprechaun, others oft insist,
Who disappears, as quickly as the mist.

But he'll be back with some fiddle tunes new,
And if you're lucky, he'll fix your old shoe.

A fiddler, not a cobbler, gypsy dance;
So toss him a coin when you get a chance.

A mysterious fiddler comes to town.

A Barking Dog: Language of a Barking Dog

A barking dog, there are those who say,
Can save your life, or your child at play.
A barking dog aware of a fire,
Alerts you to danger; his desire.

He watches over you and knows when
He should stay quiet, or bark again.
A predator strolling through the park;
Someone following you in the dark.

A barking dog watches your home, too;
Barking does intruders away shoo.
On a lonely trail, he often sees
Something that's a threat, or may not please.

Guide dogs oft help people all alone
To watch over them; they have been shown.
Barking alerts someone who can't see
To danger in his reality.

He'll bark to go out, and to come in,
He may even bark till nerves wear thin.
He really wants to be next to you.
Show him he is loved; that's what to do.

A barking dog, the neighbors may find
A nuisance, or give them peace of mind.
A well trained dog, everyone should know,
Is man's best friend; his barking will show.

Learn his bark and what it means for you,
You will soon find others know it, too.
A playful bark, yes, it too can speak,
If into his language, you could peek.

A barking dog, everyone should heed.
What is he saying? Someone in need?
All he wants is tender love and care;
His gift of barking, he loves to share.

Do we really understand what a dog is saying when he barks?

All That Is: Reality, So Much More

All that is, or ever will be,
In truth, just our reality?

All that is, was, or e'er will be,
A far greater reality.

Question the thought of our today;
Remember the past that's gone away.

All that is, really so much more
Than this now moment's, current score.

What comes before and what comes aft
Is more than now, or man is daft.

All that is, each one will soon find
Is common to all of mankind.

Reality, part of God's plan,
Can change for each in his life span.

All that is won't just go away,
Whether we go, or if we stay.

Reality, we understand
As something we hold in our hand.

Reality exceeds our realm
Of taste or touch; can overwhelm.

We sometimes have horizons dim.
We see our own, but don't see Him.

Divine reality, it seems,
Beyond the scope of one's own dreams.

All that is, was, ever will be
Is in truth, God's Reality.

God's reality is so much greater than man's.

Forever: Forever Moments

For everyone,
There is a forever moment
Called sometime,
We just never know
When or where
That moment is going to be. 
A forever moment
May also be called
Love.

So maybe,
Right now,
Wherever you are,
Is your forever moment?

Perhaps it will just be sometime;

Regardless, it is yours,
So treasure it.

A poem about cherishing special moments.

My Vision: Reality's Scope

For tomorrow, a better today;
A world where all children safely play.
A land where everyone can walk free,
Where truth is always reality.

Where love of God and man are not rare;
A time of peace all people can share.
Blessings in life that are always true,
With each man loving his brother, too.

A place where nature plays its true role,
Without the greed of man in control.
A realm where sin, all mankind resists;
A way that life in fullness exists.

A world of symphony, song and dance,
Where love and laughter are not by chance.
Where friends and neighbors can come to terms,
Without the fear of spreading new germs.

In such a world, love will ever reign.
Love is the answer; to some it's plain.
My vision is a vision of hope.
Is this beyond reality's scope?

Is a vision of hope beyond reality's scope? 

Sonnets About Subways: The Path of Transit

A path of transit given birth,
An intricacy that will amaze.
Hidden in the depths of the earth,
A mode of travel; perfect these days.

Sleek new rocket, reasonable fare,
Rapid transit; right thing to do.
Subway system to take you there;
Fewer cars means cleaner air, too.

Which ever direction is best,
The shortest, or the timing least.
From north to south and east to west,
Or south to north and west to east.

No stopovers, one fare to go;
Essential service, time will show.

Transit in our world of today is perfect, at times.

I Was Very Worried: The Master of Divine Grace

I was very worried when they said,
"Nothing in the paper ever read
Holds an ounce of truth," but I could see
Fragments of the truth, reality.

I was very worried when I saw
How the world was breaking ev'ry law.
Who over-rules the power of love?
Is there not true justice from above?

I was very worried when I heard
The piercing voice of hate in man's word.
What has caused mankind to go this way?
Are we teaching mankind how to pray?

I was very worried, but I knew
It's God alone wears the other shoe.
It's man who has to choose his own path.
He may suffer in its aftermath.

I was very worried, but I found
With our God, forgiveness does abound.
As the master of his divine grace,
He can put his glory on man's face.

At times, we may worry, but God is always in control.

So Beautiful: The Beauty of Reality

So beautiful, a butterfly
Spreading its wings, about to fly.

So beautiful, a snowflake white,
Creating a world of pure delight.

So beautiful, a rippling brook,
A place to rest with a good book.

So beautiful, a farmer's field,
The produce of a blessed yield.

So beautiful, the stars we see,
The magic of the galaxy.

So beautiful, all those we love,
Sent to us by our God above.

So beautiful, the words we speak,
Compassion, at its highest peak.

So beautiful, the work of hands,
Perfected in so many lands.

So beautiful, a song in tune,
Sung by a lover who can croon.

So beautiful, a marriage vow,
Taken in any here and now.

So beautiful, a little child,
With his mother, soon reconciled.

So beautiful, a sunrise where
Only the brave would venture there.

So beautiful, reality,
Of peace not war, where man is free.

So beautiful, the mind of man,
Who will find beauty where he can.

Man finds beauty all around.

No Surprises Here: Valentine's Day Romance

Valentine's Day may bring change,
Maybe e'en your life arrange.

Cupid has a special plan;
He'll reveal it when he can.

He has arrows and a bow;
With them, can your true love show.

He'll find someone just for you;
Hopefully, it's someone true.

He'll make it a special day,
Perhaps find a place to play,

Maybe e'en a quiet retreat;
Roses and some chocolates sweet.

Love may come and love may go;
It will give a special glow.

Yes, he too may pierce your heart;
That is when your pangs might start.

New Valentine's Day romance,
Is what happens just by chance?

Nothing unexpected, dear;
There are no surprises here.

Is what happens on Valentine's Day just by chance?

Sonnets About a New Start: Celebrate a New Start

Hello world, it's a brand new day!
Burdens remove by confessing.
What is there anyone can say?
Rise and shine. You will find blessings.

Good morning world, it's a new start!
Each day brings opportunity,
A fresh mystery to impart,
Something new and different to see.

Welcome world! Celebrate the good,
If to yourself, you would be true.
Yes, this is something you should
As there is always good in you.

What happens today is to be.
Celebrate a new start! It's free.

It is possible to make a new start every day.

Driving Too Fast: Second Thought

Do I really have to go?
In the forecast, yet more snow;

On second thought, not too wise
With a weather cell that size.

Stormy weather, it can't last;

Traffic's driving way too fast.

Should have known, now it's too late;
Have to set another date.

Reduced visibility;

How to drive, no one can see;

Blinded by the freezing rain
Pelting on the window pane.

Cars are piled up everywhere.

Take a turn off; see one there.

Truck jack-knifing, sliding too;
On the glare ice, naught can do.

Trucks are lined up; highway's blocked;

Fender bender, should have walked.

Stay in the car; go get help;
Listen to the puppy yelp.

Get a tow or wait it out;

Nothing to write home about.

I don't really have to go;
No one will be driving slow,

So I will stay right in bed;
Second thought I had instead.

Sometimes, a second thought should be heeded, especially when it comes to driving in bad weather.

Sonnets About Journeys: Life's Journeys

Life's journeys take us many places,
Oft far beyond our wildest dreams.
New worlds with mystery, spaces;
We find huge oceans, rivers, streams,

Majestic mountains steeped with snow,
The joy of twenty four hour sun,
The way glacial waters flow,
Perhaps where sockeye salmon run.

Where e'er you go, can't help but please;
Your curiosity, a start.
There is no end to life's journeys
To warm even the coldest heart.

You'll find a way and it will show
If you have the courage to go.

There is a wonderful world waiting, if you have the courage to go on life's journeys.

Sonnets About Regrets: You Have the Right to be at Peace

To live a life filled with regrets,
Not one filled with memories sweet,
Is not the way that one forgets
Or lives a life that is complete.

Regrets dwell on unhappy days,
On things we do that cause us grief,
On times gone by, oft just a phase
Of life that's lived without belief.

Live your life; be filled with joy
And with all others do your best.
All of your gifts you can employ;
With no regrets, then you can rest.

You have the right to be at peace
And know regrets will have to cease.

It is possible to move beyond the regrets in your life.

Sonnets About Dorm Rooms: Dorm Rooms in Russia

The Olympians have to pay
For a room, a cot, something more,
A hostel, home, a place to stay
With many cots across the floor.

A dorm room, refuge for a time,
A week or so for some repose,
But not with luxury sublime.
Olympian, do you suppose?

To share dorm rooms, right thing to do.
Yes, dorm rooms, but no privacy.
Perhaps a task, or maybe two,
The cost, then minimal or free.

Olympians from everywhere,
Have access to dorm rooms to share.

Dorm rooms can provide a place of refuge for Olympians in Russia.

A Ninette About Eternity: What God Says

God
Says that
Yes, there is
Eternity.
Who questions His Word?
None can dispute
What He claims
As Truth,
Right?

Should anyone question God's word about eternity?

Senryu About Candy Hearts: A Spicy Valentine

Cinnamon candy
A heart to enjoy slowly
White, red, tasty, too

Cinnamon hearts, a delightful candy treat for February 14th.

Ninette About Cloudy Skies: From Cold to Warm

Cold
Gray day
Cloudy skies
Hiding the sun
Disappearing clouds
Sun shining through
Beautiful
Golden
Warm

What a difference the sun makes!

Angels Among Us: A Random Act of Kindness

The wind howled as if in sheer agony,
Suffering the torment and defeat
Of a senseless reality.

"Too many street people!"
It screamed relentlessly,
"All hungry, wet and cold.
No one to feed them,
No one to take them in."

The snow flew furiously,
Trying to crawl
Into every possible nook and cranny,
Trying to hide its shame.

"Pay it forward,"
A crippled, old man reminded himself,
As he picked up
The steaming hot, cup of coffee,
Left by a generous, young man
Of limited means,
Moments earlier.

With a loving smile on his face,
He had carefully placed it
At the very bottom
Of a red, empty, open mesh barrel
Planted on the street corner,
Like a rich tree, bearing fruit
For the poverty stricken.

"There are angels among us,"
Said another elderly, broken man,
As he picked up the heavy, wool socks
Left there by the crippled man,
Who had pulled them out of his pocket,
Payment for his cup of coffee.

"What can I do
That has not been done already?"
He asked himself, silently.

Moments later,
Compelled by compassion's desire to give,
He helped a local, native bag lady
Waiting at the traffic light,
To get cross the busy street.

"Random acts of kindness
Never go unnoticed,"
She reminded herself,
Slipping a single coin,
Probably the only one she had,
Into the ice cold hand
Of the next street person,
A young, destitute woman.

The howling wind stopped howling;
The snow stopped falling,
But the acts of mercy continued on.

No one really knows what random acts can do.