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As you travel this road
looking to find
Someone in need of love.
Whose broken spirit
in need of repair
By the Love given Above.

It might be someone
whose given up hope
And is found in deep despair.
With all hope gone
no place to turn
no shoes or clothes to wear.

The drug once chosen
For what ever the reason
Has taken them to the ground.
They need a hand
To help them up
Out of the hole they are found.

You see the pain
deep within
Caused by someones lust
No way to cope
to overcome
For they have lost their trust.

A kind word here
A smile there
Can help fill the hole.
When hope was lost
By careless words
And actions took their tole.

As I travel this road
Hoping to find
A soul in need of love
May directions come
To me this hour
From Love given Above.
On gloomy overcast , Driving down the Texas road.. Destination airstrip, to fly above the gray sad day, And see the sun from my Cessna that I pilot today..  No matter what I can always see the sun when I fly above the gray..  

No matter how the day looks.. I can always see the sun in my Cessna..
on top of the clouds
L O V E
I
F
Every Day

Written by Keith Edward Baucum
There was a handmade cake on my table
and a letter with immature hand:

I start with this
but know that
whenever and wherever I bake a cake
you'll be in my mind.


It tasted not that sweet
I remember
and she was never to make another
in my corners of bitter December.

I have no other Christmas memory.

There couldn't be.
In remembrance of a girl who could not be a woman, but was almost, as God withdrew the angel too soon.
Interwoven with my Christmas memory.
feeling the heat, i'm hiding from desire
i've spent many nights by that fire
i feel alive by the light of my pathfinder
all of the other fights are minor

i set the sights on a climb ever higher
it becomes my mind's flight decider
widening my heights by trying to be wiser
hoping for my eyes to open wider
the craftsman bought
his piece of clay to life
but ye mold was one that
would bring much strife

the clay just didn't behave
in the appropriate way
always it acted like
a grotesque monstrous play

on discovering the clay's
fault ridden side
the creator flung it down
******* a curbside

never again did he use
that model of mold
as its unsound traits weren't
ones he'd behold
Sitting on the railway station
Uncertain of my destination.
Bags all packed ready to go.
The trains all cancelled due to snow.
Christmas hours are catching up.
All stressed out and seeing red.
This morning trains are all disrupted.
The signals are all misconstrued.
Even the signal man is being rude.
People queuing on the station still.
Waiting for their Christmas fill.
Bags are loaded.
Overflowing.
Cash be spent
Often lent or borrowed.
Happy faces,
Super smiles.
Early morning.
Late night.
Christmas spirit.
Burning bright.
(c)LIVVI
the myths of birth and rebirth
are as old as humankind

scratched onto cave walls,
tablets of stone or clay,
scrolls of papyrus or  parchment,
for hundreds of years on paper,
and nowadays typed onto backlit screens
   that are recycled faster
   than old hieroglyphs were understood

in our time
when refugees are tens of millions
on our globe

let us remember that these myths
have celebrated for millenia
    not battles, war, or death
but the survival of the human race    
the joy we feel when new life has arrived
   often against all odds
the hope that emanates from godesses
    or mother saints of yore
    who symbolize fertility,
    have brought forth saviors and new tribes

these are what has propelled us to our current state

and we do well to not forget that our fate
does not depend on people slain
but on how we can save the joy of life
and celebrate all humankind again
Trying hard to write a verse of joyful optimism in dire times.... Wishing y'all on hellopoetry a Merry Christmas and a Better New Year!
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