The charm and danger of a crystal ball.
What you would know could seize and hold thee in its thrall.

Adieu, good night,
let sleep’s strange dreams do better to illumine
heart mind and soul
in a way that steers you surer,

so much so,
you just might muster up strange powers
to lift you clear into the air,
swept up off your feet,
where you can soar in ecstacy
as you savor
the feeling
of the buoying wind and sunlit flavor
of your brand new
high and wondrous flight.

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‘Tis good and apt
to move and act
quite stiff and quick
on fair and proper warning,

but much more rich
to breathe fresh air,
in calm and patience full and thick,
where eyes and spirit
open up to wide awake,

as they anticipate
the gleaming crack
of new day’s copper dawning.

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September snowfall
up in mounts tall. . .
What a tease. . .

Check your calendars
and clocks–
there or here,
and you’ll see
we’re not quite yet to
the equinox,

nor to the start
of mad breeze whooshing,
nor the greatest rush
of blushing, browning,
and then, downing
of most autumn leaves.

Day by day,
we’ll take our slant-lit
fire-hued walks,
and smell dry fields
with gold dry grass
and stacks of hay,

and slowly we will come to see
what in the future’s writ
and how it’s spelt,

but not till
long past
the sad sweet fated second
when the last of these
first icy flakes does melt.

Eventually, we’ll come to see
if winter will
to us and to these parts
be unpitying vicious
or merciful and kind. . .

for the present here and now,
wonder though we will
with curiosity,
those secrets are beyond
the reaches
of our human hearts and mind.

But we can still find
dreams and magic
in the shine
in this first dusting
of sparkling white snowfall

Posted in Autumn, Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Seasons, Uncategorized, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Hands together. . .

Yours to mine,

Mine to mine,

Yours to yours. . .

We touch our hands
in twos, in threes,
in little groups,
in crowds,
in scores. . .

we breathe
we drink the water

caress of life-breath air,

we feel the resting place
and time
of shade
and dark. . .

We rise with day,
we soak, absorb
with skin,
with eyes,
the wholesome light
of any kind,

from the modest lights
we’ve made
with copper wires,
with oil,
with wicks,
or wood-twirled,
blister making
tinder spark taking,

as well as lights
born of
a greater Mind,
as are the stars and moon and sun,
even in
times of eclipse,
still so brightly shine
their awesome power
can well render
the nosy and uncareful eyes
of anyone
quite sadly blind,
a fate quite stark.

We learn respect
of how such great power
and our life
amid each other
by necessity
do intersect.

We feel together,
and thus, we know
we’ll sail
far more far,
once we can see,
even in times
free of flood
and all sort of

and we relax
in true profundity
into what once had been
our very wary meeting eyes
and handshake touch,

and the act
of doing such
does steer us
toward rock solid
amity and sanity,

which renders us
as clearly free
in as much as
we are bound
to travel all
in this one ark.

Posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Prayer, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Send out some love
for there’s enough
to go around,

Things may seem rough.

But, give this
light and weighty substance,
and it transmits
and multiplies
to such grand size,

it can warm, illuminate,
and into something else translate
all that dark and insubstantial
other stuff.

Send some bit of love
although it often
will be rough,

and roads will smooth
as loving snowballs,

and you and others
can and will send more
blessing absolutely all
that’s to be found
on earth and heaven,
be it inert, or quite alive
in our worldly ground below
and the great and wide expanse
of air and stars
and countless other things above.

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The devil cannot buy
your soul.
It’s only you can sell it.

And if you do,
don’t then dare lie–
at least,
don’t lie to you—

your story’s writ
it’s best you own it,
don’t condone it–

scrape any honor you have left
and suffer all shame that is your due,
and whatever other gouging costs,
should you chance
to live
to tell it.

But, better,

Should the devil
pay you a bidding call,
think well on
what you would be losing
with each shred
of your wherewithal. . .

And stall
to stretch
and take deep breaths. . .

for then,
his stench
will creep every tendril
in your nostrils,
where you can’t help
but fully smell it,

Which calls forth strength
you never knew you had,
so, rather than embrace his bad,
you take your very firmest stand,
rise up
to repel it.

Posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Go there.
Go now.
You know where.

What stops you then?

The deep fear strikes you
well amazed. . .

You hem, you haw,
you want to walk,
to move,
to loose the muscles of your jaw–

You simply can’t. . .
although you know
all too well how.

The chance is here.
Your choice is clear–

That is,
to do or not to do,
and be or not to be
as was perhaps Bill Shakespeare’s view,

But it’s not only
to the point of death or life,
but to get each day you’re here
to feel more easy,
cheery, flowing, flowering,
growing freshly
and upright.

So, set your eyes
toward star or moon or bright sunlight,
and let feet follow
to what your deepest heart and mind and soul
can conjure in their golden sight.

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