stretching, greet dawn
with great yawn rise
the lawn to ****
and plant seed tree
next knead bread and brew some tea

A blank canvas:
Anything is possible.

Will you paint bright colours?
Rainbows and sunshine,
Full of hope and magic?

Or will you will paint darkness?
The grotesque images,
Which strip away our childhood?

The choice is yours to create.
So what will you paint?

song fills the air as
crickets sweetly sing nearby--
fireflies flicker

The dragon hunted them,
the babe and his mother.
It followed them into the wilderness,
but they were protected
by the LORD.
In heaven above,
Michael and the serpent fought;
the dragon, the fallen were cast out.

Hopeful
strength
transcending
humanity,
ascending
inspiration--
e­ssential
lifeline:
guiding
spirit-filled
substance
creating
brill­iant,
imaginative
personalities.

Christ:
He is the lamb who was slain at
Passover
for the sins of the world.

He is the Son of God,
He is God.
The Alpha and Omega,
the first and the last.

He is the only one
found worthy to open
the seals
of the scrolls
in Revelation.

Immanuel.
He is the King of Israel
      and of Judea
Ruler of all the earth.

He is the Lion.
Holding the scepter
prophesied by Jacob called Israel:
the one to whom it belongs
has come.

He is worthy.

So let now,
heaven and earth forever sing,
as we bow the one true God,
"To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!"

Bare  skin--
no makeup covers her face
when she wakes first thing in the morn.

Her blue eyes sparkle as she blinks back sleep
and heads towards the bathroom.

Pulling out her makeup--
foundation, powder, eyeliner and shadow, blush,
         mascara and lipstick--
with care she applies each one.

Will she every feel, know
that she is beautiful just the way she is?
That she looks her best
          not covered in camouflage,
but the way she was created?

Iron shackles bind wrists
to a cold, wet stone wall.
Moans echo down the hall
while chains clank in the night.

Fire flickers on the sconces
lining the corridor walls.

Footsteps draw near.
Someone is walking down the
hallway. The guards speak
of a new prisoner's arrival.

What time shall he arrive?
Where will he be kept?

Someone important--
that's what one said.
Confusion abounds at
this stranger's fate.

This place was built not for
political prisoners to be taken to.

The rest of us forgotten,
the small meal is lost.
Hunger gnarls within:
no food will come this eve.

Iron shackles to broken wrists,
cold, wet stone:
chains clank in the night.

Fire flickers on sconces
lining corridor walls.

Footsteps echo
down the hall;
guards speak of
a new prisoner's arrival--

Someone important, wise:
confusion abounds at
this stranger's fate.

What time shall he arrive this eve?
Where will he be taken?
This place was not built for
political prisoners.

The rest of us forgotten:
the small, shared meal lost;
hunger gnarls within.
Moans -- loved food is wasted.

I am a mother
I have three children
and I teach them daily
I teach them to play, to speak,
when it is best to be silent,
and how to hunt.
I have a spouse,
we are loyal to each other,
mated for life.

You fear me, hate me
simply because I exist.
History has portrayed me,
my kind as evil,
especially in your fairy tales.
Yet have you ever wondered
how many of those stories
were actually based upon my brethren?
Or, why, in these tragedies,
do you portray, a single predator
when you know we are a pack?

We are a small group,
mostly eradicated by your people.
Though we are beginning to
have births, growth--
we are still too few.
You cannot speak my language,
do not understand how we
protect each other,
provide for each other.

For a while you guarded us,
but now you call us a danger.
What have we done to you?
Why are you hunting me? my family?
Do you hate me because I survived?
because I did not die out when you
invaded, destroyed my home?
Do you hate me because you fear me?

shimmering through trees
wind reveals in shadows lay
newborn fawn by doe

Philosopher's stone of a different kind,
grant me now this wish of mine:

The ability to speak with anyone--
from future, present, or the past--
regardless of their native tongue,
answer any question asked.

Talent will not to me be constricted,
to my descendants shall it be passed.
Wisdom shall become depicted,
as our knowledge is amassed.

Scholars, engineers, artists, and writers--
endless possibilities for who we become.
Fabric of time, personal cyphers:
this knowledge begets new freedom.

The Creator has provided a wondrous plan
        for a couple united together
in holy matrimony.
Within the Lord's scriptures,
Paul was inspired to write
in a letter to the Ephesians
"Submit" and "Love".
Not just for the woman,
the man is told as well,
make this a partnership
   with your God.
Like the trinity, there are three:
the husband, the wife, and God
   as the head.

A child's heart breaks
for the first time,
when Simba sees Mufusa die.
He learns to grow and face
          his past:
Fighting his demons
and falling in love.
Macbeth with lions.

Underneath the Australian sun,
we have begun to gather wallaby grass
for the night's fire. It hasn't signaled
anybody, but scorching flames keep the wild dogs
at bay.  Losing count, four

nights, I think, have now passed.
Mother and father must be ill
from worry; we've
never been far this far out before. Amidst play
of seek and hide, Frank went in search
for the perfect spot -- a fairly good one
as it took two hours to find him--
but night arose, and father's compass
had been left upon the porch's rail.

A few days later, we managed
to find a small amount of water,
but it won't last
with three of us; and I can already see
the exhausted expressions carved upon
my brothers' faces. Though Isaac
continues to search, I believe
even he shall soon relinquish the hope
that rescuers will arrive.

It's been a week. At what point
will the police discontinue our search?
When a month has passed?
With no food and the last drops
having evaporated onto our parched tongues
before the sun was set,
how could we survive that long?

But the question wandering deep
within my mind is, “Does anyone
even believe we are alive?”
Perhaps it is not worry
our parents are now suffering,
but grief.

Though I cannot tell the boys of my suspicions,
nor can let them see my fatigue

glistening silk threads--
patiently waiting spider
captures helpless prey

hope
joyful
happiness
radiates through
a beautiful smile
as youngest child is told
the great news by her mother
tears begin to fill in her eyes
she hugs her teddy bear and whispers
can you believe it? the cancer is gone

Pack in snowy woods
baying at cold, distant moon--
Rabbit is hiding

glancing out the window,
cold slumbers on the ground
illuminated by morning's glow

alabaster trees--
hidden secrets lie within
this silent world

Upon white sands do I reside
Staring into deep blue
With toes dipping into the tide
Beautiful view, tis true
Beside the sea is where I sit
Thinking about the night moonlit
Beside the sea
Beside the sea
Where water reflects sky starlit

Upon white sands do I reside
Content with fate's dealt hand
Watching the waves and beach collide
This is my wonderland
Beside the sea, I watch fish wade
Watch lovers sail, sunrise fade
Beside the sea
Beside the sea
Children dance where mist is sprayed

Upon white sands do I reside
Breathing salt, feeling wind
Touching waters, traveled worldwide
It's like my soul has grinned
Beside the sea, completely free
Here I sit under a palm tree
Beside the sea
Beside the sea
This is where I discover me

Among the summer woodlands wide
Anew she roams, no more alone                                                                   (Alfred Austin, Agatha)
And the white mist curling and hesitating
Like a bashful lover about your knees                                          (Richard Aldington, The Poplar)
She walks in beauty, like the night            
A heart whose love is innocent                                                   (Lord Byron, She Walks In Beauty)

Chequer'd with woven shadows as I lay
Among the grass, blinking the watery gleam   (William Allingham, A Day-Dream's Reflection)
I try to think of some one lovely gift
No lover yet in all the world has found                                              (Richard Aldington, Prelude)
A sunset's mounded cloud
A diamond evening-star                                                               (William Allingham, An Evening)

I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields    (J. Keats, To a Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses)
It was a little budding rose
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell                            (Emily Bronte, A Little Budding Rose)
Plucked I for my love's delight.                                                          (Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses)

But in the sun he sang with cheerful heart
Of coloured season and the whirling sphere                                   (William Allingham, A Singer)
I told my love, I told my love
I told her all my heart                                                                           (William Blake, Love’s Secret)

Arise from out the dewy grass                      (William Blake, Songs Of Experience: Introduction)
So much grace, and so approve her,
That for everything I love her.                                                                       (William Browne, Song)
All thoughts, all passions, all delights
Whatever stirs this mortal frame
All are but ministers of Love                                                                       (Samuel Coleridge, Love)

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise
I love thee with the passion put to use                                                   (E. B. Browning, Sonnet 43)
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed                                                 (E. B. Browning, Sonnet 10)


In secret we met—                                                                      (Lord Byron, When We Two Parted)
Beneath such dreamy weather                                 (Lewis Carroll, All In The Golden Afternoon)
The long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind                                             (Emily Bronte, The Sun Has Set)
A flower was offered to me
Such a flower as May never bore                                           (William Blake, My Pretty Rose Tree)

In movement, in dancing                                          (Raymond A Foss, In Movement, in Dancing)
flowing, spinning
twirling, to the dance of love                                                                  (Raymond A Foss, Dancing)
surrendering to his leading                                                        (Raymond A Foss, Dancing Today)
To be fond of dancing was a certain
step towards falling in love                                                          (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)

A shudder comes o'er me—                                                      (Lord Byron, When We Two Parted)
Whereat the lips, moved with delight and pleasure
Through a sweet smile unlock'd their pearly treasure                 (Thomas Carew, Lips and Eyes)
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth                                                      (Song of Songs 1:1)
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed                                            (E. B. Browning Sonnet 38)

Why, when I gaze on Phaon's beauteous eyes,
Why does each thought in wild disorder stray?      (Mary Darby Robinson, Why, When I Gaze)

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise
I love thee with the passion put to use                                                   (E. B. Browning, Sonnet 43)
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed                                                 (E. B. Browning, Sonnet 10)