Flowers do me good
I say
on any given
single day.
Different colors and
different kinds
make up nature's
precious find,
and I'm not sure
but I have a hunch
they're even better
by the bunch.

I like to write
but I don't know
if my writing
has a flow.
I always care to
contemplate
every single
word I state.
But then again
I've always heard
do not obsess
on every word.

Because of life
we cannot see
all of heaven's
majesty;
for all remaining
on the earth
are limited by
the grave's fresh dirt,
and all that we
can grasp and feel
are wounds from grief
that never heal,
they just become
numb with time
and written about
in verse and rhyme.
But this should
not be all we see,
death, that is,
and what's not to be.

Red is a poppy
red is fire
red is love
red is desire
red is the simmer
red is the sun
red is the spark
from a smoking gun
red is the warmth
that fills up
our heart
red is the passion
that tears us apart
red is impatient
red is a sin
red is excitement
whenever we win
red is a pinch
red is a poke
red is convinced
pink is a joke
red is the boil
red is the heat
red is the sizzle
that stops on the street
red is a kiss
red is a hug
red is the good luck
in a lady bug
red is the pulse
red is a blush
red is invigorating
red is a rush
red is God's spirit
living in us
red is the blood
He bled on the cross.

If we keep heaven
in our gaze,  
we will find
that most days
will be less of petty
and more of praise.

If we keep heaven
in our being
then that will be
what others are seeing.

If we keep heaven
in our emotion,
then we will
find love
deep as the ocean.

If we keep heaven
in our anticipation,
then we will not
be disappointed by
the God of all creation.

An architect of words
that permeate our lives
and we build their graceful arches
in the courtyards of our minds.

We knew not
what we did,
a convenient truth
that kept us hid.

But hide no more,
for when we die
we must look Him
in the eye.