Some branches of broken horn
Called to me, as most others
Were rungs, the trunk, a great pole
For one to vault, into the heavens
Where was perched a wild nest
Of a Red-tailed hawk, at the top
I could see the great bird, once
Was there, upon his cloud throne
And all the woods and ripples
With the lake, in dear murmurings
Played for me to soundly hear
The waves lap onto the shores
Under my flight and the lighted
Breeze that sifted through needles
And the sap that patched me there
Out on the limbs of my swaying
Daze.  
          O to sail in the scented sun
Of the great old pine of tinted
Sage and black tall bark, to be
Nestled in the forests on high
Within its mystery and wisdom,
All the way up I rose, the journey
Earthward was so much harder.

Losing myself in you, there is no other place that I would rather be.
Then having you take over and using me to help others find you.
For my Joy is to be used by you to reach out to other people.
Especially the hurting, struggling and the Lost of this world.
My mission is to grow in you and to become just like you.
To fully have the Holy Spirit fill me up completely Lord.
For I am nothing without you O Mighty Savior God.
To fully live in the Spirit every second of every day.
This is my Goal and Desire Lord, I am nothing without you.

One moment
One day
Just give me a reason
To ******* away

Just sitting there last night by the fire watching the sunset over the trees
Another pleasant evening,  a cool breeze, peaceful.  Or was it?
A few dark clouds overhead,  they'll come to nothing
But then....Patter patter patter down came the rain
So what, I've experienced worse
So into my shelter snug and warm, a little rain will cause no harm
But then came the wind, not just any wind but a tearing screaming gale blasting the rain with the force of a bullet.  Tearing at the skin, numbing the flesh
My firepit now a pool of ***** grey sludge,  cooking kit scattered far and wide
OK, drop the sides so I'm watertight,  one last warming scotch then I'm in for the night
Close my ears to that wild banshee screaming out there in the dark
0545am
The wind has lessened but still the rain is pouring down,  a muddy swamp where was once hard ground
The gentle stream where I keep my beers cold now a raging torrent of ***** brown water
(I never lost my beers though)
I have a routine I rarely miss, a hot mug of tea after taking a ****
And I won't be beaten by a small summer storm
So into a dry bag where I keep some stuff,  a few bits of wood and tumble dryer fluff
Between the roots of a tree a fire soon takes hold, on goes a *** and soon steam arose
On goes a pan with some bacon and beans

And then, out came the sun

To be caught in a storm like that isn't much fun but it's all part of the wild camping game

two hearts beating as one
                                          in divine synchronicity
                                                     
love's harmony playing
                                       as a soft symphony
                                          
two hearts beating as one
                                          such beauty in the melody
                                                          
a blue stream flowing
                                    to the strains of eternity

When I disappear
in you,
the Earth rattles
below our feet
& when our eyes meet,
it's hard to be discreet,
I let it flow.
You know that feeling darling.

When writing poems there is no right or wrong.
It may be plain or sound just like a song.
Heroic couplets aren’t the only way.
Yet people always have to have their say.

It may be perfect, it may be not.
Just lose a syllable
Or go completely
Free.

Read unnamed samples of some classic works and you will see
That often you can add the names yourself.
They are distinctive.

A Shakespeare,
A Keats,
A Milton
Or a Yeats.

What matters is whether a poem works,
In some way,
At least for yourself.