Thursday, January 29, 2015


The night skies call out,
As I look upon the city,
The immensity of stars,
The city built by hands,
Trail light from fingertips,
Joining above and below.

I imagine what I see,
What I see through the soul,
A transference of souls,
Like white lights streaking up,
Shooting stars from the Earth,
Gone straight into the night.

From points within the city,
Which most would not know of,
A young woman cowers beaten,
Her cries too loud for sound,
Her tears too strong for breath,
In silence draws her hand,
And leaves her life behind.

From points traveled often,
And faces past unseen,
An unseen face unspoken,
Which family has forsaken,
Lies looking up in starlight,
Against the bitter cold,
And peace unfolds his thinking,
And his old eyes stop blinking.

There is a child in a hospital,
Lying within his bed,
A mother with a story,
And so much left unsaid.

With pain,
No gain,
In frame,
Picture forming,
A new morning,
With direction,
And reflection,
No more,
For we have,
An open door,
To be with,
One another,
For God gave us,
Each other.

Life is never ending,
No reason for pretending,
All the things we do and say,
Make no difference in the way,
For we touch lives all around,
No one can escape the sound,
Though the moment is but fleeting,
All our hearts are heard beating.

Now is your chance,
Stand up and try,
Touch other lives,
Before Soulrise.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Brittle Branches

Brittle branches hang above me in the sky below the moon,
I'm afraid the winter's ending and the spring will come too soon,
The ashen light of snowy chill walks with me as a friend,
With whispers spoken to my heart that love begins again.

The winter whispers of a warmth to gently fill the air,
With colors green and scented notes for me to fully share,
A pilot light to fire the flame within my aching heart,
A fire to guide me soul from here back to the very start.

Though snowy storm has separated ways from you and I,
Your footprints in the white show clear beneath the dismal sky,
I’ll follow footstep trail in search unto the truthful end,
And yet the trail circles back just to begin again.

With time,
Not mangled,
With graying,
Mind fraying,
This song,
Is life,
It’s long,
Our souls,
With minds,
At ease,
We’re notes,
In the breeze.

For days of sunshine pass us by with nothing much foretold,
Such laughter just a passing breath on path to growing old,
I cling to truth within this life and I am not undone,
For to share this life with such as you holds me forever young.

Monday, January 19, 2015

A Tale From Moon River

For Audrey, for you, and for all who would be touched.

She begins her day,
At a jewelry store,
A place of peace and joy,
In the machine of Manhattan,
Bright eyes looking through,
Only the glass separates her,
From her dreams.

With a cat called “Cat”,
Residing within her flat,
And ways which seem peculiar,
From the other side of the glass,
She is on the great quest,
Looking for treasure,
Within herself.

Though pain has shaken her,
Her world once fallen down,
She finds in her reflection,
A guide to see her through,
For her smile is a gift,
Joy from Heaven to others,
Through her heart.

Like her you were stricken,
For pain has no preferences,
Shooting you both within,
Though neither soul would change,
As pain is but a circumstance,
And beauty is a treasure,
From the soul.

For the soul is a vessel,
Guided by will of the heart,
Carrying the blessings of Heaven,
Like a star in the night sky,
Guiding the weary sailor,
To the safety of land and home,
With love.

Carry forth your sunshine,
As your meaning of life unfolds,
Through the daily acts of your heart,
Willing that God’s will brings joy,
Through your words and actions,
As your soul sings the song,
Of life evermore.

Friday, January 9, 2015

The Cage

 There is a girl in Poland who has never spoken a word.  Her name
is Joanna, and her story appeared on Sprawa dla Reportera.  When she 
was born, the doctors pulled her too hard breaking bones and causing severe
nerve damage.  She later learned to communicate in code symbols developed
by a prisoner in Aushwitz.  Using that, she has written poetry and wishes 
to write a book about her story.  This poem was written for her and sent to her
through the television program noted above.

The cage has no door,
Bars are all around,
In a dance of feathers,
She sings from within,
Clothed in yellow beauty,
She shines through the bars,
A picture of full life,
Heart beating notes of joy,
Love flowing like sun’s rays,
Warmth knowing in truth,
God is within her,
Surrounding around her,
Binding us together,
In spite of her bars,
Her cage is but temporal,
As her soul is uncontained,
Soaring the skies above me,
Teaching me how to fly,
Resounding in true beauty,
Beyond imagination’s limits,
The cage is a wheelchair,
Her lips remain silent,
But my soul hears her song.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Wasted Life

Water flows on a river,
Time passing unrestrained,
Living feeling for each day,
Every drop a heartbeat,
All bearing life,
Flowing from the mountain,
Through a barren land,
From the spring of our days,
Water not replenished,
As the springhead sees no rain,
And all which pours forth,
Is received unto the wind,
While the drying spring,
Awaits the fate of sand,
The cold embrace of ending,
Within eternal night,
For all we do adds scope,
To the eternal world beyond,
Perfection to perfection,
From the good within our hearts,
Making time a gift,
Beyond cost or compare,
And the wasting of this gift,
Is a wasted life.