Stuff I don't know  names of
pass by my line of sight;
as opposed to concrete thoughts
that I know as black and white.

But the land still has its charm
as I walk along the trail;
and gaze out on the plains
where much beauty still prevails.

It's not just what you know that counts
but how you view your world;
how you count your blessings
as it all unfurls.

A walk is just the thing
that your mind can savor;
when life is passing by
without much taste or flavor.

So, the stuff that I don't know
in the end, it does not matter;
it's lost upon the wind,
like empty, useless chatter.

The wind is rushing thru the willows
they arch and bend but do not break
the gusts of air are strong with power
unanchored on the porch,  things shake.
The green carpet rolls itself into a ball
the chairs around a table fold and fall
large big stuff holds solidly in place
things that go in motion are mostly small,
I feel some drops of rain but not too much
no thunder and no lightning do appear
the torrent of the wind is hard and steady
my dog takes caution - into the house
he won't return outside until he's ready.
I stand, let the hurried breezes hit my face
like a sea captain , most assured, would do
bracing myself alone - against the storm
happy and contented, to see it through.
In grudging, humble admiration, I submit
to nature's sudden,  wild and wacky ways
it's rare and scarce and quite bewildering
it livens up and and embellishes my days.

Suffer love in silence,
don't disturb the air;
with silly sounds of speech,
as if you really care.
Don't upset the applecart,
let things stay as they are;
why trouble your own thoughts?
do you wish to go that far?
Suffer love with stillness,
be a rock upon the shore;
be a fortress, all but mute,
why ask for something more?
Let the wounds heal slowly,
take time- to remain fast;
like everything in life,
this too, I know, will pass.
Suffer love in loneliness,
why risk the hurtful word?
they'll only deepen silence,
from the ones he never heard.

Hot days, dreary days,
now begins the summer;
long days. hazy days,
often times a ******.
Seeking shade, seeking water,
relishing the morning breeze;
cool showers, ice cream treats,
things that satisfy and please.
Beaches in a desert land,
dry and bare and sandy;
frosty mugs of cold root beer,
often come in handy.
Mirages come and disappear,
they shimmer with false hope;
to escape the heat, the game,
at the movies, we can cope.
Hot days, dreary days,
and now we pray for rain;
I'm not looking toward next year,
when we'll do it all again.

All my life's been sun and shadow
brought about in different ways
youth and vigor, aging seasons
brilliant light and dark-filled days.
Interspersed with rain and snow
blown by winds both mild and strong
days of happiness, too short
sleepless  nights that went too long.
All my life's been sun and shadow
winsome days, with little care
days of turmoil, tinged in sadness
just a step from deep despair.
Fleeting now, the bloom of youth
present now, the chilly wind
darkness gains upon the light
eventually,  the seasons  end.
All my life's been sun and shadow
chased by moods both good and bad
but the good outweighed the other
of every season that I had.

I went to see the sunset
from high upon a hill;
the clouds were forming right
I waited for the thrill.
But it was just a sliver
a gold ribbon in the air;
but still, it mesmerized
as all I did was stare.
My dog was sitting by me
to him, I gave his pats;
and drank in the coming dusk
as I brushed aside, the gnats.
The day was fading quickly
the shadows kissed the night;
and up here, upon the mesa,
the world became all right.

The sun is slowing setting -
in the clouded western skies;
and chilly darkness covers all,
like for the one that slowly dies.

Wane of twilight has moved on -
cool night's formed and spread;
and a somber, quiet hush appears,
but nothing close by me is dead.

A page has turned, like in a book -
of this life's,  never-ending story;
and of the way we live it through,
and of God's auspicious glory.

It's only seasons ever-turning -
with the changes of each day;
tears of happiness that glow,
in the laughter of a child at play

Later on- I'll stand at your grave -
(or you at mine) then, we'll weep;
but not for very long, my sweet,
for you (or me), we are but asleep.

You were a ray of sunshine
that stayed with me a while
that brightened up the day
that caused my heart to smile.

But dark days follow sun
and soon the rain did fall
gone the cheerfulness
the aftermath of all.

Like flowers quickly fading
the bloom of love was done
it hid behind the rainbow
of the dying, fading sun.

For us there was no funeral
no cremation of a soul
once were together
now apart,  not whole.

I will keep the sunshine
you once did bring my way
with no regrets or qualms
of what we're like today.

Outside, the snow is gently falling,
the fireplace is lit and burning;
I read a book, that I've been stalling,
inside of me, the heart is yearning.

Yearning for the days of times ago,
for the love of my New England days;
when no reason was enough to know,
the why  and wherewithal  of ways.

To find the joy, in just the simple things,
to find a peace, that envelopes the soul;
a snowfall, that such a scene does bring,
to garner joy,  that makes one whole.

My love is writing poems to stir my heart,
she sits,  contented,  by the open fire;
of my life,  she is the major part,
I look upon her with sweet desire.

New England winter on this summer day,
brings back a memory that's fine;
it was  my thoughts that were at play,
I drink the last of summer's wine.

Each love has its own tale,
of passion and emotion;
of changes now forgotten,
a taste of its bad potion.
Some love dies so easy,
while others never do;
but in the final ending,
both of you are through.
What you had is gone,
what you felt has died;
if it slowly fell apart,
at least you know you tried.
Love stays for a moment,
but then it fades away;
no amount of trying,
can get someone to stay.
You get on with your life,
for a while, a broken heart;
but one thing you don't do,
you will never fall apart.
Each love tells a tale,
but the end is still the same;
sometimes friendly parting,
sometimes against the grain.

Tell her that you love her,
if, in fact, you do;
that you'd be lost without her,
in, in fact, it's true.
That her voice is lovely,
it's music to your ear;
that joy just overflows,
whenever she draws near.
Tell her that you cherish,
her love throughout the day;
that your heart pines for her,
when she's far away.
That she's worth waiting for,
that she is your sweet treasure;
that no one else comes close,
by any count or measure.
Tell her that you love her,
if, in fact, you do;
that it was love at first sight,
if, in fact, it's true.

Tell me, you don't love me anymore,
that you, have found somebody new;
and I will walk right out the door,
you need not tell me that we're through.
Tell me, you can't go on much longer,
that everything I do is simply wrong;
some say pain just makes one stronger,
***, I've heard that lame old song.
Tell me, nothing that I do will matter,
that you lack something in your life;
if you knew, it's my soul you shatter,
would you stay and be my faithful wife?
Tell me, that you only need some space,
that you've got to get your **** together;
then I'll say to you, I'll only miss your face,
and any other storm, I'll **** well whether.
Tell me, you don't want me in your sight,
that the sooner that I leave... the better;
then I will hurry and step into the night,
with no goodbyes, farewells, or letter.

Tell me not that time does heal,
it's all a fallacy;
it cannot heal the wound,
that You have left for me.

It cannot mend the heart,
that day that you did die;
all I have are questions,
they seem to end in WHY?

All I have are memories,
of a pain that never ends;
that tears the soul inside,
with the sorrow that it sends.

With weary thoughts of gloom,
that do not pass away;
the hurt resounds forever,
I feel it still...today.

Tell me not that time does heal,
you'd be lying if you did;
time, it has not gone away,
it's only now been hid.

Rain, falls, hard, fast, heavy,
but short lived and brief;
tears poured out in sorrow,
an outpouring of grief.

Soon, the sun, will shine again,
clouds will lift from earth;
and we'll hear again the laughter,
of someone's joy and mirth.

Shadows, pass, along with gloom,
the sadness melts away;
tomorrow beats with new-found hope,
and life renews each day.

Gone, the veil, that covers us,
swept aside, the pain;
comes once more, the strength,
from adversity, we gain.

The rain, is but, a memory,
the tears are dried and past;
we forge on to the new year,
with the goal our love will last.

Can't we send some turkey,
to those with hunger pains?
to fill their empty bellies,
by air or ship or trains?
Can't we share some greens?
or scrumptious pumpkin pie?
or do we loosen belts too tight;
and let our wishes die?
Too much meat we feed our faces,
portions drying on the plate;
while those that starve remain,
and waste what we deem fate.
The biggest day of eating's here;
we go past the full-up mark;
while children lie in  waiting,
their bodies, gaunt and stark.
Thanksgiving means the act of sharing,
not how much we can put down;
please give away what you can't eat,
the folks that need, are all around.
Too much the fork and cutting knife,
too much the sweets we gobble fast;
as if the food might disappear,
as if the sweets won't last.

I've had my fill of turkey,
perhaps a bit too much;
too much pumpkin pie,
sweet potatoes in my clutch.
And now, the stomach pays,
for the act of overeating;
if manners were the norm,
I'm afraid that I'd be cheating.
Why do we over do the things,
things we love and cherish?
and when the sleep does come,
it's often quite nightmarish.
Food will do that to you,
your dreams become bizzare;
the leftovers you take home,
you don't leave them in the car.
Another slice of pie won't hurt,
it slides right down, like jelly;
and later when, your aching,
it leads back to the belly.
Oh,  Thanksgiving is a beast,
with too much food and laughter;
for we neglect to overlook,
what comes to us soon after.

Is it me or is every one in a hurry?
the people walk too fast, they scurry;
'tis the time of year, I suppose,
but don't you stop, to smell the rose?
Don't you slow, to catch the breeze,
don't you say thank you or if you please?
are we so obsessed that we don't see?
do we forget cordiality?
It's that time again, my friend,
when our best wishes, we should send;
reach out to those in dire need,
give a gift and plant a seed.
The Lord, He loves a cheerful giver,
stay way from ***** and save your liver.
Take your time, don't make haste,
time's a precious thing to waste;
the holidays will soon be gone,
till then bask in December's song.

People lounging on the grass
the tents, they form design,
displaying wares that no one buys,
the walkers stroll with their canine.

Arts and crafts and food vendors,
it's a human carnival;
they're shaded by the trees,
the shapely elms stand tall.

The boys are throwing Frisbees,
there are picnics in the making;
there are people in the shade,
it looks like naps they're taking.

It's noon-time at he Courthouse square,
and the fair is simply bustling;
panhandlers at the corners,
it looks like they are hustling.

I take the public viewing in,
amused at their charade;
the only thing that's lacking...
tomorrow's grand parade!

Love has many faces,
which one does hers show?
if it's one of happiness,
then that's the one I know.

Love has many voices,
does her laughter always flow?
if joy is in her nature,
then she's the one I know.

Love has many moods.
is her peace the wind that blows?
is her manner ever pleasant?
that one, my heart knows.

Love has many meanings,
in her eyes, that special glow?
does her kisses satisfy?
then she's the love I know.

Love has many waters,
is her love a tender row?
is she a lovely fountain?
then she's the love I know.

You are the Bright and Morning Star Lord
Your name, above all names;
yesterday, today and tomorrow Lord
Your truth remains the same.
You are the Everlasting Father Lord
Your word is clothed in Glory;
dying for our sins Lord
in the never-ending story.
Your the Alpha and Omega Lord
the beginning and the end;
I'm at peace with all Lord
from the blessings that You send.
Your King of Kings and Lord of Lords,
and also, Prince of Peace;
the gift of all salvation
Your great wonders never cease.
Your the Bright and Morning Star Lord
of the world that needs Your light;
to bring all out of darkness
and knowing wrong from right.

I ordered a burger plain
with a glass of ale;
I bit into it heartily
leaving a bread crumb trail.

It curbed my hunger
the ale was crisp and cold;
onions lay atop
my leafy lettuce fold.

I munched in sweet delight
watching a baseball game;
it didn't matter who
it's pretty much the same.

A culinary treasure
of drink and meat and bun;
savoring the taste
when I didn't have to run.

Just a simple meal
a small thing in itself;
a gustatory pleasure
celebrating self.

Do you want to be,
in God's great
coming kingdom?
Then my friend,
He wants you
in His fold;
there's security in
believing,
you can forget everything
that you've been told.
They're only lies and
false deception,
told by the father of
all lies;
the truth is never in him,
he longs to hear
your moans
and cries.
There is a kingdom
coming to
this fractured earth,
that will erase all pain
and sorrow;
that will bring peace
to all the world,
it's coming soon
my friends,
perhaps tomorrow.
God calls to all,
but few do hear,
they follow other gods,
in vain;
they need to open up
their ears
their hearts and minds,
to know the one true God,
who soon will reign.

The daily fight is never easy,
so much that's evil in the air;
so much, the world's temptation,
don't let it catch you - unaware.

Keep the faith and keep the hope,
you must endure, until the end;
be patient,  kind,  forgiving,
and like the willow tree - just bend.

What matters is the path you travel,
the straight and narrow way's the best;
the road to hell is broad and wide,
no need to follow all the rest.

Be content, whatever your position,
whether you are rich -  or not;
take heed of God's commandments,
and the measures He has taught.

Then you can say you've won the race,
kept the faith and finished strong;
then reside in God's great family,
and learn with others, His new song.

This day has been too long
I'm ready for night's song
a reverie of pleasant sleep
and dreams to keep
and dreams to keep.

This day has been too long
correct me if I'm wrong
but twilight is a gift
a prelude to a rift
a prelude to a rift.

The dark is creeping fast
what light there is won't last
sandman spreads his seed
the comfort that we need
the comfort that we need.

Outside the stars are glowing
a cool light breeze is blowing
and my bed is like a nest
to curl  into...to rest
to curl  into...to rest.

This day has been too long
the heat has been too strong
and the coolness of the night
gives me solace till the light
gives me solace till the light.

Why weren't you satisfied,
with being perfect, therefore pure?
your had your pride and lied,
That, He never could endure.
You set yourself too high,
from that great height, you fell;
became the father of the lie,
the reigning mayor of hell.
Son of the morning, you once shone,
an angel of great rapture;
but you sought the highest throne,
to cherish and to capture.
Now, your power's here, on earth,
to blind the hearts of all;
shirking your angelic birth,
taking others with your fall.
You've corrupted many men,
by your insatiable desire;
but He'll bring you to your end,
in the terrible last fire.

Fit on the breastplate of righteousness,
about your chest and waist;
drink from the cup of truth,
how pleasant is its taste!
Keep on singing praises, to the God above,
may his blessing never cease,
prepare to spread His gospel,
upon your feet, wear peace.
Take up the shield of Faith,
that glows, just as the sun;
it repels the fiery darts,
sent from the evil one.
Take the helmet of salvation,
it will keep your mind on Him;
drink from His living waters,
fill your cup up to its brim.
Grab the sword of the Spirit,
hold the Word of God on high;
the full armor of the Lord,
is His great battle cry!

She speaks of love,
what little she's had;
her words echo,
lost, alone, and sad.
Why do not the Gods
comfort her and  sing?
maybe she has no hope;
in what they say and
things they bring.
A prayer is silent,
tossed in  the wind;
and woe continues,
without an end.
One day, her prince,
might come;
and straighten out,
the things undone.
A surprise to her,
and no one else;
dreams come true,
of what she's felt.
Love is patient,
love is kind;
first in the heart,
then in the mind.

Spread my ashes to the wind
where the breeze is blowing
makes no matter, east or west
I will not be knowing.

In the morning, at midday
I don't really care
in the place that I have picked
aw hell,  just anywhere.

Cremation is my choice
It is my final wish
I've always loved a torch song
sung by some jazzy dish.

Close to death, I still makes puns
making jokes until the end
when the reaper takes me down
I won't be on the mend.

Laughter's the best medicine
though far ahead I see
that the last laugh that I have
will certainly be on me.

The road has been too long Lord
but the end is now in sight;
shelter me this little while
while I keep off the night;
the night from which, I won't wake
once this body's lost its fight.

The road was winding, twisting,
never knew, what's round the bend;
only sadness Lord and sorrow
that I thought had no **** end;
obstacles thrown in my path
that I thought I could not mend.

The road was way too  long Lord
until I saw Your light;
until I felt Your blessings
that made it all...all right;
when you took away the darkness
and made each new morning bright.

Scoffers, skeptics, fools,
too far away from God
laugh at my convictions
and often call me odd.

Because my faith is solid
because my faith is strong
I laugh right back at them
and call them wrong.

Morals have been lost
values down the drain
ethics out the window
intolerance...insane!

The devil throws the dice
and wins most of the time
most anything now goes
what's done is just a crime.

It's too late to save them
from the lake of fire
they've tossed it all away
by the flames of their desire.

FLASH: BREAKING NEWS! The President of the United States Has Just Been Declared Insane! This is from unreliable sources positioned as protesters outside the White House east lawn section. Details forthcoming as they occur.
Now back to our regular newscast...
In Chicago today, there was a new record set for murders on any given single day. The old record was...17. Today's total (so far) is at 18. (only time will tell if that will increase to a greater sizable amount)
Thanks for joining us tonight. My name is Mary Macabre.

Never see tomorrow with misgivings,
never see the past with sad regret;
have no qualms about the present,
of expectations that are not met.

Be content with treasures that you have,
faith in God, your family and friends;
good health, life's simple pleasures,
and a love you know will never end.

The quiet of a peaceful morning,
the splendid glory of a grand sunrise;
the scent of perfume on a summer's day,
the coos of doves... the eagle's cries.

The blue of heaven dotted with white clouds,
the rain that falls... gently on one's face;
the laughter of the one you love beside you,
the refreshment of her warm embrace.

Be glad for now and whatever comes hereafter,
bask in the sunshine and the shadows of your day;
savor all happiness that should come along,
as you enjoy each moment of life's day.

poetry is fine for thoughtful people,
thinkers, readers and the like;
such emotions are the trigger,
for thunder and the lightning strike.

lost love, depression and elation,
the many moods are spread like ink;
the catharsis we need to go on living,
changing as we rise and sink.

we put in words our discontent,
or the regal high of happiness;
we stumble over bits of phrases,
and sometimes make a mess.

But we're  survivors of the last word,
and we write on with wicked verse;
and if it isn't to our liking,
then we'll howl and probably curse.

Yet in the end we come out stronger,
content with just to have a voice;
all we've to blame is our ourselves,
for we're the ones that made the choice.

The problem with time is
there never is enough
things happen all again
things get nice, things get rough.

We repeat mistakes
sometimes we don't learn
we run out of time
we fizzle and we burn.

We die before our time
in a mindless reckless way
with cellphones and the road
and thinking it's okay.

Time corrupts our body
the muscles and the waist
the eyes and ears and legs
often go to waste.

The problem with time is
the clock,  it never ends
we forget where things are
or the e-mails that we send.

I was taught to deny it.
But I know it's there.
I was made to suppress it,
and I tried to obey.
Sometimes the only way
that I can express it, is this
way, through the written word.
A visual healing of a sort. Be
a man they said. Big boys don't
cry they affirmed. But I think
that I suffer more by camouflaging
it that I would by declaring it
vocally. If I could just scream and
carry on at the top of my lungs,
perhaps I'd feel better. So, please
excuse me, while I screech, ignore
me while I curse, and pardon me
as I release loudly and vehemently
all the pain I've kept hidden in my
life.

There are times...like now,
when the summer sun is fading;
when the slant of light is on the windowpane,
underneath the awning, things are shading.

When the grass is freshly cut,
and lies basking in the field;
the earth seems graced with wonder,
at what the season's yield.

There are times...like now,
when the afternoon is ending;
when the twilight does her thing,
and the world keeps tilting, bending.

I welcome in, the evening,
when the roar becomes a lull;
discovering life's magic,
never stodgy, boring, dull.

There are times...like now,
when the fill of life is grand;
and splendid are the views,
from the spot whereon you stand.

There is a love, that doesn't know a boundary,
it's unconditional and given free;
no limits to its everlasting arms,
security and comfort just for me.


There is a peace that passes understanding,
a quietness that has no name;
you give your burden up to Him,
He'll take away the awful pain.

There is a blessing, one can never measure,
it's like a fountain from on high;
it's a richness money can't obtain,
we should never pass that blessing by.

There is a joy, that fills the mind and heart,
that brings sweet solace to the soul;
a happiness that's a constant  pleasure,
it will fill you up more than you know.

There is a love, that flows just as a river,
winding strong and gently to the sea;
serene and calm, it lies there, waiting,
waiting patiently, for you and me.

There is earth, and there is sky,
and then there's You -
abundant food and water,
and dreams we never knew.
There are hills and heaven,
created by Your hand;
peaks with year round snow,
high - aloof - and grand.
There is rain that falls,
giving life to everything;
flowering in the month of May,
kissed by summer's wings.
There are stars... all scattered,
like diamonds in the night;
comets racing out in space,
transformed by burning light.
There is the heart, the soul, and You,
and us; a bit lower than an angel's grace;
but in the image of our Maker,
God touched the human's face.

You are my rock Lord
the horn of my salvation
the anchor of my soul
the hope of one great nation.
You are my love Lord
through good times and the rest
when I was lost and all alone
You saved me for the best.
Now I know Your ways Lord
and the path that leads to grace
the road that leads to peace
in Your treasured place.
You are my strength Lord
without You I would falter
thank You for Your blessings
at the footholds of Your altar.
You are my rock Lord
the faith that never dies
the hope of a tomorrow
wherein my future lies.

Lord, you wash and replenish my soul,
Your gift of grace, it makes me whole;
You restore my faith, my very being,
open my shuttered eyes to seeing.

You satisfy this hunger in me,
And Your truth, with it, I'm free;
Your Word is comfort for my heart,
Praising You, where do I start?

You are a refuge from my troubled mind,
giving blessings as the day unwinds;
Your the Rock that gives me strength,
for You, I'd go to any length.

Your love is my one great foundation,
that saves me from this wayward nation;
I bow and pray with great thanksgiving,
for one more day that I'll be living.

To You alone, I give all Glory,
as to the world, I'll tell Your story;
how it was... You came to be,
how Your Son, he died for me.

The field has far too many
the choices, far too few
not much hope of any
making progress through.

It's a star show in the making
dressed up, upon the stage
are they real or are they faking?
when will they turn the page?

Where do they stand on this?
where do they stand on that?
it seems it'***** or miss
methinks they need a map.

Politics is strange and weird
often, it is tragic
they want to be endeared
as if, perhaps, by magic.

The candidates stand short and tall
stating all their  views
they'll celebrate today
tomorrow...just old news.

Love's not better, the second time around,
not with you at least, in quick time I found;
you hadn't changed your frame of mind,
you were  too ruthless and still unkind.

The years had only made you bitter,
the time you had with me, you'd fritter;
I had more good things to say and do,
than moan and whine or compete with you.

My one divorce for you was not enough,
you still remained embroiled and rough;
so you caused me to go and make it twice,
because your love to me, it wasn't nice.

I only wanted for you to meet me halfway,
but for you, there's only one ****** way;
you wanted to be the domineering one,
well now the place is yours...have fun.

But don't expect to see me anytime soon,
can't stay with someone crazy as a loon;
love's not better the second time around,
not with you at least; that much I found.

The shepherd knows the flock
they answer to his call
he keeps them safe from harm
so none of them will fall;
he rules them all with love
guards them through the night
under heaven's stars
until the morning's light.
The shepherd gives them feed
that nourishes the heart
that gives them happiness
to every daily start.
He keeps away their foes
that seek to do them wrong
giving peaceful whispers
with a litany of song.
The shepherd guides the flock
past the obstacles of life
away from present danger
avoiding troubled strife.

The trouble with ambition,
is that we want too much;
when money is our master,
we've nothing but its clutch.

It's a bind that never ends,
it's the sacrifice of peace;
we accumulate forever,
not knowing when to cease.

Wanting better cars and houses,
wanting this and wanting that;
we forget what matters most,
we get rich and we get fat.

Friends fall by the wayside,
and the lovers come and go;
and we forget the meaning,
of just going with the flow.

The trouble with ambition -
lack of morals fall aside;
and our ethics fall apart,
in the wallowing of pride.

The winds of March
they came in May
with rain and hail and cold
the wind was rushing,
numbing, chilling
forceful, brash and bold.
The snow stayed on the peaks
maybe skiing until June
I bundled up my body
whistling a listless tune.
I braved the wind and rain
dodging hail, ignoring cold
gathered all the sunshine
my aching limbs could hold.
The winds of March
they came in May
they may be here till June
meanwhile, I'll keep writing
these silly little runes.

They will never take my crown,
nor the faith, I have, in You;
You've been with me far too long,
and have always, seen me through.
Tough times come and tough times go,
there are many tribulations;
still, I bow my knee to You,
in my constant admiration.
They will never take my crown,
for You, will not, forsake me;
their wounds are fast and fleeting,
yet, my soul, is singing free.
Nations fall and nations rise,
yet Your word, it never fails;
I stand firm in solid hope,
whatever the assails.
They will never take my crown,
although the body falls;
although the body dies,
the Spirits soul stands tall.

Think of a world
without some love;
of earth -
without a song;
of life -
without a lover,
of where your heart
belongs.
Think of a kiss
without much passion,
of hugs -
that don't feel right;
of a limpid, shallow
handshake,
that doesn't feel
quite tight.
Think of a friend,
that turns his back,
and looks the other way;
think of a child
without much laughter,
that chooses not
to play.
Think of a sky without
the stars,
no moon to light
the dark;
think of a silent, empty
world,
without a meadowlark.
Think of a world,
that has no God,
only man's "great" reason;
only man at the controls,
in this and every season.
Is there such a horrid world
when love is no solution?
then face those days of
endlessness,
with man-made home
pollution.

Lord - This is true, I know
from You, all good things flow
peace and joy and love
come down from high above.

Gone is anger and conceit
You have caused their swift retreat
along with hate and greed
for You satisfy our every need.

Lord - This I know is true
You forgive us through and through
when we pray and then repent
time with You is time well spent.

You bless our every strong desire
by Your holy righteous fire
if it is right,  not wrong -
You give us heaven's song.

Lord - I know this much is true
we're better when we think on You
starting now -  and never later
our precious, grand and great creator.

Six minutes passes quickly,
so here's what I want to say -
God bless my fellow poets,
who rant and rave their say.

Who offer up their talents,
to share their cares and woes;
to inspire other writers,
and not step on their toes.

Who struggle with each word,
to say what's on their mind -
to give vent to their feelings,
to others, self, and mine.

Who preach the way of poetry,
that calms the mind and soul;
that examination of the heart,
that often makes them whole.

My six minutes now is up,
so I say a fond farewell -
to the poets, everywhere,
may the day for you be well.