There’s This Place I Like To Go

In the quiet reminders of how we live our lives

a silent recall will always come knocking

always come knocking

always come

to somehow tell us we are a concept

we remain here forever,

always knocking,

a steady rap of recurring thoughtful

imagined lives that stir our hearts

until all the passion we feel

suddenly spills into the next

time and place

where 

always knocking

a soft moment, 

we might certainly

become enthralled in sweet 

reckoning

because we share our lives

inside the spectrum of some

displaced anxiety,

an autumn sunset

begins a solemn wholeness,

the human condition,

always knocking

on Heaven’s doorstep.

Advertisements

The Last Time I Checked

There was purpose in my day,

a willingness to share,

yet the constructs of a certain way,

would often interfere,

well, just my luck.

 

I often walk away this way,

the drive home,

a long enduring road,

looking around to see,

if anyone else might be my way.

 

I lack the fortitude

one might easily say

to perhaps whether the storm

may be the cause of me,

or certainly the human way.

 

There always is that possibility

of just getting past all of the

hypocrisy, the second guessing,

the idiocy inherent

with wondering just where we are.

 

I walked inside a world

why, just the other day,

where a little girl would cry,

her story breaking the hearts

of everyone inside her day.

 

And then, I wondered again,

while walking away,

is it just me,

or is life meant to be compelling,

in whatever manner He choose.

Two Would Pass Together

(dedicated to the goodness of time, a friend and his family)

When in a moment we might reflect

upon the reason,

we could together share a memory,

the fleeting laughter,

we would do this together,

wouldn’t we create a scene,

a wonderful attribute,

of the years,

oh the many years,

the travels we knew

without ever having to leave our home.

 

In a sort of magical day dream,

we crossed so many paths as one,

and now today,

they celebrate a journey

oh for the love of our children

we do,

we will always,

we did for the span of a lifetime

hope and pray,

we might somehow find His way,

some way decide upon a natural course

of our lives

we would find

sweet serenity,

a mysterious energy,

one with love,

a compassion

we might give freely …

cherish the beauty of time.

 

For it is today,

we now togeteher

cross the sky

with a specacular

sunrise,

a setting moon,

in each adventure,

I might in the arctic

winter

share love as a soul mate

might find again,

discover the truth

was always within our dreams.

 

Peace be with the onlookers

for their journey just begun.

I Wonder About Love

Oh it is true the feeling you might have,

the moment the mention,

the imagined response to knowing,

wanting, having, believing, sharing,

all the keywords that could be eternal,

always an option,

for it was told,

we could often recall,

the word, the name, the title,

the option,

… and yet we always do somehow return.

 

I will always remember

when being told,

the actions will speak from afar,

only if I might allow hesitation

to surround my being,

to create an obstacle toward

seeing

there is a certain Truth

to believing.

 

Yet I always return,

whenever the feeling seems right,

there a door opens,

and I do choose to walk,

walk right in,

answer the call,

remind myself of the

the, of the,

of Thee

bigger picture

beyond the wall.

 

I wonder if it is all so simple,

I do often try to recall.

His March

If by decision we choose then to grow,
Circle of faith becomes our afterglow
When certain the world is a whole state
Might we in spiritual Grace relate.

For though Heaven with Hell may combative
Create constant a choice to ask plaintive,
How shall a martyr seek sweet evidence
While a near quiet heart leaves time to chance.

Each temptation a humanity endure
Allows a skin find mettle we assure
For while skies align all our moving parts
We sometimes wish to land on where to start.

Constant may the soul seek a forgiveness
While certain He casts purposeful duress.

The Soft, Delicious, Natural Mystique of The Rains

If I can stand in the water pouring across my sky,

I feel the beauty of nature, yet this is peace,

I am soft with my notions today,

without pain, the quiet release is cleansing.

 

Yet, as these words do in a manner please me,

I am saddened by the reality of the south,

there is a certain mystery in how much is little,

how little is the reminder of our vulnerability.

 

I do pray for the suffering souls whose eyes glance

upward with confusion, praying for the rains

to allow their lives to continue forward beyond the

deluge of God’s mystery in this reckoning.

 

I will while slumber in the peaceful nature of my world

imagine an energy to save the hurting reminders of time.

I Wonder About Sundays

When as a child I would favor Sundays

Dressing up we would join our neighbors

I could wear skinny ties, look certain ways

Then feel the smiles, in the shaded ambers.

 

In speaking a loud, I was often heard

Felt a little wonderful to know my name

Kept inside a sacred chalice so absurd

Yet, every week I would surely play the game.

 

I wonder sometimes today about the peace of mind

So often spoken of, in God’s way they would say,

Even after weeks of sin, they’d let me remind

Myself, only me, I could walk with honesty today.

 

Oh to be the recipient of some sweet quiet release,

If on this another Sunday I may still find some peace.