FAITH
It's hard for me, I told the priest,
To believe in guardian angels.
Don't worry, he said,
That's not important.
When I went home I saw
my two children walking along
the steep roof of our house.
Before I called them to come down
I said a silent prayer
to their guardian angels.
THE POWER OF ONE
The tiny ant and locust accomplish nothing--
until they unite--each in their kind .
Once they are assembled and their goal is set forth,
they change whatever is in their way.
Then, when they accomplish their goal,
they disperse and become unseen again.
Like us.
Never!
Ever!
Forget the Power of One!
ONE! is invincible
for it always
stands alone.
Like us.
JOYS UNRECOGNIZED
I never really liked the farm,
The endless tasks, the meager funds.
But now I see things differently--
From afar the drudgery's gone.
I see instead the lovely trees,
Smell the fresh-turned soil;
Watch the straining team ahead,
The flowing earth below.
I feel the strength of growing things,
Of Nature's law in force;
The gratitude so dormant then
Wells up within me now.
I see the black-green fields of corn,
The cotton in full bloom;
So much I took for granted then--
I saw but did not see.
The chores I thought so burdensome,
I'd love to do them now,
Relive the joys unrecognized,
Make real remembering.
MY SIGNATURE POEM
This little light of mine,
I'm going to make it shine,
Until it becomes a blazing
Chandelier of mind.
GETTING CLOSE
(A Villanelle)
The blushing splashes of the Fall give way
to multicolored leaves, now turning brown,
to swirls of snow and thoughts of yesterday,
of how the Years have molded this old clay
into complexity--which is winding down.
The blushing splashes of the Fall give way
to sunset once again, a gentle blaze
of crusty leaves now falling to the ground,
to swirls of snow and thoughts of yesterday.
I've seen this beauty many times, and play
with memory--a game that wants to pound
the blushing splashes of the Fall. Give way!
And make a path for one who dares betray
THIS PLAN! But it changes from world renown
to swirls of snow and thoughts of yesterday.
There is a lot more that I need to say
before my own leaves drop without a sound.
The blushing splashes of the Fall give way
to swirls of snow and thoughts of yesterday.
POETRY HELPED ME SEE
Blind from Multiple Sclerosis
Groping like a crab
On the bottom of the sea
Poetry became my vision
Mind is a ship of sight
Entombed eyes like stones weigh heavy
Mind swaddled in darkness
Scent is sight
My heart my eyes...
Sound my soul
Touch is my delight
Eyes search words
To hear words
To feel for words
To grope for words