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David Lessard Nov 2018
November sunshine
warms my chilly heart;
tentacles of sun
heats each frigid part.
Indian summer
lingers in the air;
mild days, sunny days
has a certain flair.
Contented evenings
mellow into night;
blue reverts to black
swallowing the light.
Enchanted mornings
the songbirds singing;
perhaps hints of hope
of days beginning.
November sunshine
melts the cool of dawn;
takes the shadows frown
and soaks the tired lawn.
David Lessard Nov 2018
Come out of Babylon my friend
says the Lord, the King of Kings;
this world is not enough for life
and what man alone does bring.
Put away the tinsel and the gold
shun the darkness, follow light;
and in your soul, repent of sin
for what rings true and right.
Forgive all those that wrong you
pray for your enemies;
for surely God will bless you
as He looks down and sees.
Speak truth, be satisfied
for what God's word does show;
love your neighbor as yourself
it's a law that you must know.
Come out of Babylon my friend
seek first the Christ, your Savoir;
keep the ten commandments
and you'll be in God's favor.
David Lessard Nov 2018
Wherever there's  a breeze a-blowing
wherever there's a trail a-winding;
that's the spot that I'll be going
that's the path that I'll be finding.

Among the petroglyphs and grasses
on wind-swept mesas high above;
I give the views long-looking passes
familiar scenes I've come to love.

On mountain crossings way up high
I marvel at the rounded peaks;
drink in the spirits of the sky
gaining solace that one seeks.

Along the sandy canyon's wall
the season's evening sun is falling;
my shadow stretches ten feet tall
I hear the song of nature calling.

Wherever there are hills to walk
wherever there are eagles soaring;
wherever there's no need of talk
I'll listen to the waters,  roaring.
David Lessard Oct 2018
Passing memories, like leaves
have floated down,  lay still;
on this last day of October
there is a morning chill;
has the year passed so suddenly?
my heart,  now emptied of its fill.
A love has come and gone and
yet,  remains;
the journey comes to rest,
from different trains,
and such memories,  unspent,
they too,  will wane.
Highs and lows,  the roller-coast of life,
gives and takes away,  it's pleasure;
buries deep,  within the mind,  its
secret treasure,
and erases any yardstick, by
which we measure.
To recall some things,  would
only bring us pain;
so we remember, but the good,
thereby,  we've our gain;
although the time and place
are never quite the same.
Like autumn's falling leaves,
we've lost our tethered hold;
the grip that we once had,
was crisp and bright and bold;
but now broken, the bonds of love
grow quiet, still and cold.
;
David Lessard Oct 2018
After we left each other,
I thought it for the best;
we only hurt each other,
when we were put to test.

The atheist and believer,
weren't meant to get along;
two different points of view,
two different modes of song.

Love cannot exist in doubt,
love can't find its way;
when minds think separately,
when different thoughts hold sway.

Life's more complicated,
with questions we can't solve;
with solutions left unanswered,
with which we can't absolve.

Yet, I don't love you any less,
for your divergent view;
your honesty's refreshing,
coming straight from you.
David Lessard Oct 2018
By their fruits you shall know them
the best fruit brings satisfaction
to mind and mouth and gut
foul fruit brings a different reaction.

The sweetness of wine is a delight
the mastication of a fig is pleasure
all bad fruit is cast aside, like sin
the ripeness of a pear is a treasure.

Watch your fruit as it still grows
cultivate it as you would your life
when it's at the peak of its perfection
you can partake of it without a knife.

Mold your life, as you would your fruit
don't neglect it, and please, don't let it rot
follow his commandments as a guide
just as his beloved son on earth has taught.

Be a light to those that do not know the way
be kind, be faithful and be observant
so in the afterlife, he will say to you
"Well done, my good and fellow servant."
David Lessard Oct 2018
Funny, I don't feel old...
but my age says I am;
this fact I seldom ponder,
as I cover my toast with jam.

Yeah, my skin's starting to wrinkle,
and I bruise quite easily;
and my hair is already gray,
as I sit, sipping my tea.

My mind feels young and eager,
my walking and hiking is strong;
yet the days seem shorter and shorter,
and the nights don't seem as long.

Age is just a number,
birthdays an endless fad;
but I realize in living,
my days are both good and bad.

Funny, I don't feel old,
though youth's a long ago fling;
the heart is always forgiving,
and the soul's a beautiful thing.
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