Category Archives: Poetry

The gardener

The old man cried,

No, there is a God, a caring, patient God!

But why is he taking my Rebekah?

.

The process has been going on for years.

Slowly, painfully, drawing out the agony.

Giving him seeds of hope.

That never blossom in this arid time of decline.

.

Or maybe the seed has blossomed.

And now is losing its bloom,

Leaf by leaf

As the old man does all he can

Watering, fertilizing,

Whispering words of encouragement

Which fall on deaf ears.

As another leaf falls and then another

Until there is a mound of withered leaves

Which will soon blow away,

By a gentle breeze which gives comfort to others.

But not to him

His suffering is not nearly over.

There is more,

So much, so much more.

.

Then the branches turn from green to brown to grey.

They are snapped easily but feel no pain

All feelings have departed long ago

But the gardener remains

Staring at the dead sapling

Hoping that it will come back in the spring.

The roots are still strong!

The stem is only sleeping!

It will come back!

Miracles happen!

Miracles happen every day!

He needs only one miracle to save his wife,

Only one.

So many years spent in prayer and meditation,

Weren’t they worth one miracle?

.

But a gardener cannot expect the rain to come

When it is convenient.

The gardener works the land he has,

In the time he has been given,

And must let the rest go.

And accept the judgement of heaven.


I knew

I knew there was something important,
Important, important
I knew there was something important,
I had to do today.

I had to say I love you
I love you, I love you
I should have told you I love you
A hundred times today.

I knew it was important,
But life makes one forget.
A moment later, love has gone,
And in its place, regret


Make America great.

On an early day in February, in a quiet moment, I sat at my desk, in my study. I was warm.  I was not in want.  I was lucky as deaths from the virus passed 450,000. 

And I thought about making America great again. Maybe he was right, that America is no longer great, but was the reason because we lost manufacturing jobs to China? Does that make a country, great?

I believe we are no longer great because we have lost our way.

America once stood for something.

Not just one thing many things.

Freedom, Justice, Equality.

It was a place of hope where people would come to, from all over the world, for the chance at a better life.

Our founding fathers, imperfect individuals, many of whom own slaves, created the Constitution and Bill of Rights because they envisioned a more perfect union. They knew that they were not capable of getting there, but they gave their children and children’s children the ability to go beyond what they could even imagine.

Lady Liberty calls to the world, Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free.

She does not say give us your white Christians and the rest can go to hell.

My parents’ generation, the greatest generation, fought in World War II to end fascism not to import it to our country.

Dr King did not want perfection.  He just wanted to place where his children could sit at the same table. Was that too much to ask for?  To sit at the same table with people who disagree with you and talk as equals.

Being great is a process not a destination. We were never great, but we were always on the way to greatness. I fear we have lost our way.

Can we believe in God and not believe;

That all men are created equal? 

That we should help the widow and the orphan? 

That we should welcome the stranger in our midst?

That we are stewards of the Earth but we do not own it?

Even the small plot of land where we will be buried is not ours.  With our very last molecule of energy, we feed the bugs and worms and nourish the Earth around our disintegrating coffin.  If our last act on Earth is one of charity, why is being charitable so hard to do when we are living?


Heaven

Heaven is a place

That is far away

And nearly impossible to get to.

Heaven is a promise

For a life lived in the service of others.

.

But Heaven is also a metaphor,

As in Heaven on earth,

And Heaven is a journey,

Where each step could be joyous.

.

And Heaven is a woman,

Who is a promise, a metaphor, and a journey.

Where Joy exists in her smile,

And peace in her loving arms.


Words, words, words

11/28/2020

.

Filling a page with scratches,

With symbols of despair.

Desperate to find meaning

Through markings in space.

Combining words

Over and over again

Different varieties

Unique variations

Until they sound important.

.

But they aren’t.

.

There is more meaning

In an empty page

Then in all the countless pages

I have filled.


Desperation

desperation fills you up

drop by drop

grain by grain

until there is nothing left

of what you were.

.

you now call

the desperation

by your name.


god

god cries for the unborn child but does not think of the million people who have no hope.

god believes that life is precious but that black lives do not matter.

god raises one group of people above another and turns his back on those living in helplessness, poverty, war, and despair.

It seems to me that god is just a concept in which we hide our prejudices.


She Does It All

Hi everyone. Just self-published my first children’s book, She Does It All.

Kids get to finish the book by illustrating the verses.

Fun!

She’s bumping the bumper who bumped on his bump,

And jumps with the jumper who’s jumping the jump.

She’s pacing the pacer who paced the quick pace,

And chases the chaser who’s chasing the chased.

She’s dialing the dialer who dialed the dial,

And smiles with the smiler who smiling his smile.

Available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CG8B9MG

Product details

  • Paperback: 44 pages
  • Publisher: Independently published (July 3, 2020)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-13: 979-8632392976
  • ASIN: B08CG8B9MG
  • Product Dimensions: 8 x 0.1 x 10 inches

 


Say When 060320

There were so many moments

You could have stopped

If you had compassion

If you showed mercy.

 

When he stopped struggling

When he stopped asking

His (dead) mother for help

When he fell unconscious

When he stopped breathing

When he lost his pulse

But you continued

To choke his dead body

For another three minutes.

 

Was your hatred so great

That death wasn’t

Punishment enough

For being a black man?


Dear Mr. President 060220

Dear Mr. President,
Do you think by using
overwhelming force
against your own people,
you will accomplish anything?
You are not even putting
a bandage on a gunshot wound.

The anger that your people feel
cannot be contained
if they are forced back
into their homes
or prison cells.

There is no justification for people
to commit acts of violence
against innocent people.
It is wrong when committed
by an individual
or the government.

The problem is a racist system.
The problem is not a brick through a window.
You cannot solve the problem
by silencing the victims.

Racism exists
On city streets,
In quiet neighborhoods,
In public parks.

In the Inquisition there was a saying,
You have not converted a man because you have silenced him.
Social inequalities will not go away
unless we make them go away,
through legislation
through education
through a redistribution of wealth.

Patriots say, freedom is not free!
But neither is equality.
Neither is justice.
We need to fight for equality.
We need to fight for justice.
Not only when it is in the news,
But every moment that we breathe.

Victims have long memories.
We will remember the knee on his neck.
We will remember the plea for mercy.
We will remember the death
in a quiet neighborhood.
We will remember the call to the police.

The troops you send against us,
Will not wipe those injustices,
Or the thousand others from our memory.
Change will.