I'm not talking
about power-stations
motors, engines or machines
but our human energy
which makes all things turn-

herein is the flowering
of our arts--the blooming
of every talent, the inspiration
to create beauty, the bending
towards the truth and beauty--  unending!

The love extending
to others,  the heart praying
for every human-being
the daily exercising
of kindness, goodwill reaching
out to all, whether strangers
neighbours, friends or kin


what nobility, power of character
what strength, what magnanimity
in one word that changes our lives---ENERGY!

A top hat that skims on its brim
And cars built with wheels that don’t spin
Vault from Baltic to Ventnor,
Streets you don’t pay rent for.  
If they land on Boardwalk you win.

I stayed up all night
Trying to pen down something about this night.
Something about the moon, stars, all the things glowing, right.
Tore the page because I didn't find the rhyme right.

Then I thought to write about nature—
Something about trees, rivers, and the blue sky,
About some 'how' and some 'why.'
After jotting down some insensible lines,
My brain—ah!—again started to climb a different vine.

How indecisive it behaved.
What to try to write about, my heart started to crib.
And then I got this cringy thought—
To write about this nothingness.

So understated but believable,
Nonexistent but feel-able.
Ah, again I miss that poetic sense.
The thinking motor of me definitely needs a rewind.

Even when I tried to write about nothing—
No facts to decline—
I asked my fingers to stop
Until I figure out a perfect rhyme.

A star shone o'er Bethlehem,
Upon that first Christmas night:
The shepherds came from the fields,
In search of such brilliant light.

They gathered at the manger,
Where the baby Jesus laid:
Homage to the newborn king,
To Jesus Christ they had paid.

It was a cold and starry night,
Hearts were warmed with love and care:
Animals came to greet him,
Coming in from here and there.                  

The king of kings was born this night,
He came to help us turn out right.

written 12-24-2024

Hold open this gaping hole and let the world in as the lies push back with words you want to hear

Hold on to the torch of hope passed onto you from the flames running from the murderous thieves to whom we owe our name

Somewhere lost to me kindess lives on and on People giving everything until they are gone

The sun descends, its golden light refrains,
A canvas brushed with amber’s fleeting hues.
Through whispered winds, the day’s last joy remains,
A fleeting kiss the twilight can’t refuse.

The sky ignites in crimson’s soft embrace,
A fiery bloom that time will soon unlace.
Yet in its glow, a quiet peace imbues,
Each moment held, a perfect, fragile space.

The clouds alight, their edges etched with fire,
While shadows stretch like secrets yet to tell.
The day retires, its heart no longer higher,
But leaves behind a gentle, sweet farewell.

And though the night comes in
And all gets colder and blood runs thin
The beauty forever holds with these
Pulchra ignis finis