Measuring the passing of time
by the expiration dates on my yogurt.

I don't remember when it started,
The need to baby sit the world.
It gets so tiring sometimes,
A tremendous burden to bear.

The constancy of forethought,
The conscientious words of harmony.
Seek it first to make it last.  
Maker of Peace wherever you go.

I walked hand in hand with my granny great
To the road where the lilacs bloom.
Instant love, what can I say, I was smitten.
Something about the plentiful scene of stalks and scent captured so early in my childhood mind,
Resonates with me still.
55 Lilacs with a random chance of luck at an out of season suprise.
How many times will grace my door?
Here's hoping for the blessing of many more, many more, many more....

Who knocks? The door is opened.
In steps a mystery.
Is our love great enough? Strong enough?
To love them equally?

I hate this, I hate that,
Please don't do it anymore!
They just crossed your threshold,
The just opened up your door.

Your judging hate is tested
By ones that you adore,
Hating ends right at your threshold,
Love forever opens up your door.

Welcome Wagon Dragons,
a hundred to one.
Genuinely kind,
to dropping passive aggressive words
in an overly firm handshake.

I check my list, review the house.
Quiet reflections of the past year
The rooms are clean, no one's about.  

I shake my head to somehow clear
It's the calm before the storm.
The painful thoughts that bring the tears.

All is perfect, in it's place.                   Nothing seems perfect, or in its place.

One perfect night,                                
I seek that one perfect night,
Before that perfect day.
Before that perfect day.

Not a gift without a bow,                    
The gifts mean little, don't want a thing,
But a return to the peace that evening brings.

The tree is lit and glows in brilliance,
The glowing lights seem dim to me.

Coffee's ready, stands at wait
Love abounds, there is no hate.        
My love is tested, yet still no hate.

One perfect night,                                
One perfect night?

Before that perfect day.                      
I seek that perfect day.

What a peaceful time of rest,            
God, I ask for rest, that only you can give.

I reflect on God's great love.              
God, I know your love beseeches me to live.

A gift so very precious.  
You have not changed in all this time,

His son came from above.  
It's me, oh Lord, seeking your love divine.

Sent one perfect night,    
Please give me one perfect night of peace,

On that Perfect Day,
On that Perfect Day.

Don't you know that God perfectly aligned the stars just for this moment?
He directs lives just for this moment?

It is not a chance meeting he brought you together in this very instant.
You just saved someone's life!
You just met your heart's desire!
You just changed a life!

God designed your life to be
Just who you are, where you are & with whom you are, right now.

Carry it out!
Fulfill your destiny....

As I read radical hate posts on social media, I find myself writing thoughts about life trials and love, under the guise of my childhood wannabee pseudonym Julie Barnes.

I guess that way I only get limited hate messages.

I know this is not actually poetry, but I didn't see a website called "Hello Random Observations".

If 55 is "the new 45", why am I cleaning out cabinets like I'm meeting Jesus tomorrow?

You've paved the road with cobblestones and razor blades,
Those that have gone before.
You've cried rivers of lava and hailstones,
A never ending flow.
Torrents of hateful hopeful prayers sent with screams of "NO and whispers of "why?"
A mother's love a father's sigh.  Failure at the doorstep.
Strength beyond measure, faith's flaw of nature.  
God's image revealed or dismayed.
Are you happy?  You're alive!
Make the dieing dreams and grieving scenes stop.
Represent the pain and peace all the same.

How do you know if you're waking up dead?
Did death come in a whisper?
Did it come in a roar?
Does anyone notice your not here anymore?

What good is it to you if you're waking up dead?
There's life in you still,
But dead thoughts in your head.
If you're at that point now, then move out of that bed.

Breathe breaths of life,
Breathe breaths of peace.
Wake up alive!
It's all in your reach!

Sometimes we silently protest because the pain of the words clawing their way out is too much to bear.

The little ones go first they really don't know any better.
They huddle in groups and skippity hop along the ground.

The middle ones taunt the winds, thinking 'I can do this'.
Eagerly chastising the authority of time, and letting go for the hell of it.

The old cronies hang on with all the might they can muster until they gracefully, gently, sigh bye bye.

I used to write of rainbows and sunsets and the boy with the bright blue eyes.
Lamented love and youthful scribblings were the secrets of my heart.

Pebbles and stones have pelted my mind and my words
As I've grown gray with maturity.
The pains of truth are real.

I long for those days when musings were simple and thoughtless.
Yet I know the written path of struggle is still comforted by the boy with the bright blue eyes.

Bullied, abused, outright confused,  
Not seen, not heard, doesn't utter a word.
You know the type, but ignore the might.

Gotta change the game
So you'll know his name.
What are we doing wrong?
Stop the hemorrhage of life.

Simple solutions, stop the pollutions of the mind.
Listen, hear, see the unseen,
Compassion be the fashion, the fix, the find.

It's time to take my place.
Step to the head of the line.
The reigning heir of heritage,
I didn't ask for, but received.

Another passing, then two more,
Finds me waiting at the door.
Reality is this ebbing tide,
Prepares me for my final ride.

The face of death, I'll stare it down!
Time is sparing yet I know,
There's more behind me than ahead.
I'll very gladly step aside, than find that I am dead.

Where have all the souls gone?

They left in the night as dark as their hearts.
Guided by a lie.

Winding amongst us even today.
Veins of ice, eyes of steel.

How did this happen?
Hate begets the heart.

The passion of the soul should be love.
But the soul has eloped beyond the walls of reality where no one should ever see.

Shards of tears whisper, Come back,  hearts.
Cry,  where have all the souls gone?

Heavy is that one defining link in the chain of our lives.
It shakes our reality, it defines our existence.
And binds us to the earth or sets us free.

That link of faith encircles the next.
The watcher, by faith, is knowingly connected, unwittingly affected.
Raise up your link, sustain the chain, be strong,
Bear on, bear on....

Is it not enough that the world bleeds souls?
The pain of this earth cries within us yet is it still not enough?

The scarred, the scared, those left and those erased....
Cries from depths unimagined.
To an end that leaves us yet again stunned.

Consider a solution....
Just LOVE!

I prayed, to God, to be happy again.
He gave me 20 pounds.
What's up with that?

I just don't have energy for this world anymore.
It drains you of the pains and highs and the lows and the sadness and the happiness.

You make your way everyday,
It's like walking through mud. Where's the joy anymore?
Quite frankly, I don't have energy for joy anymore.

I love being happy,
I'll be happy again.
But right now, I don't have any energy for this world.

Just love.

The end.