Saturday, March 27, 2021

The run and jump


She’s a baby at this thing called life
because she cannot understand
the lies, the greed, the arrogance
and that dreaded manipulation
that trips her up time and time again.
But babies grow and learn
and know to take little, little, steps,
before the run and jump
that takes them away and over.
I reckon she’s in mid jump
uncertain how or where she’ll land
but at least she is in motion
from years of immobility.
If I had a hat I would take it off
but I can bow from the waist down
and pay homage to the strength
that came out from the blue.
Yes, she was strong and is strong
now way up in the air
but will a cushion or a rock
be awaiting her “come-down”?
But such is life that no one knows
what a run and jump will lead to
but to stay as one immobile
a fate worse than death.
Please let’s pray that she will hand
upright on her feet
and live to tell of the heartache and grief
that will surely follow her all of her days!

Saturday, January 23, 2021



These days more than then
it’s time to sift through the dirt
and find a little miracle
waiting to be noticed
and rescued from the pain
of being trodden on. 

It takes a time, it really does,
for sifting’s no easy task
when distracted is the mind
by life’s activities. 

But to sift, look, and be aware
of something waiting in the dirt
to be lifted up and cherished
always gives a good return
on the effort expended.  

How sad these days to walk on dirt
and ignore what’s underfoot
until each and every miracle
breaks up and disappears.

Sunday, January 10, 2021

The voice of free speech (adapted from the original)

The voice of free speech soft and dulcet in its tone
or harsh, abrasive, cutting, and reaching to the core,
moves freely like the wind, touching, circulating,
and speaking only and always to those who wish to hear.
Ideology, philosophy, wishful thinking, memories,
unsubstantiated dreams, hopes, wishes, needs, desires,
woven like a tapestry too soon to be out-dated
and discarded like a heap of old and musty books.
In a fire of these times volumes and manuscripts
will burn and be forgotten like bodies of the dead
and cynics will grow to outnumber those who know
till all and everything disappears into the air.
How pointless, how degrading, how useless is intent
to expose to the already wise the wisdom of the old
or shine like a star in the path of a blind man
in the knowledge that he has no eyes to see.

Too numerous the setbacks and too far away the moon
to highlight a soul within the shell of flesh
and everyone’s free speech will evolve into dust
to be trodden on and crushed by life’s intolerance.
The air once thin, sustaining, grows thick and thicker now
with the absorption of … simply all and everything