Heather

The heather grows among the thrones

Under wild Irish roses

Blossomed there within the shadow

Of her sister’s poses

Buds rare, lonesomely tender

Overshadowed by brighter red

Violet, purple, subdued in dress

Humbled and bowed, her head

THE RIDE ( my most popular international poem)

  

I will ride upon that horse

That others fear to ride

I will shout with warriors past

And let these worlds collide

I will set upon that beast

Never fear the sway

I will ride faster still

Until that glorious day

I will not fail the frail

Protect them is my call

I will swing sharpened sword

And watch those enemies fall

I will not slow the pace

Until this ride is done

I will not dishonor the past

 Modernity will I shun

I will follow another’s road

For I am not alone

I will wear ancient garments

And lead where I am shown

I will obey sacred writ

Attack and not retreat

I will grip providence’s right

And never embrace defeat

This one ain’t done yet….abandoned for the time being

God is glorified... simply....

The stress of having three in college hit a little today... but I know it will all work out  for God's glory...

  I have been thinking about that lately.God's Glory.. In the  Catechism, which we teach our children, the first question we ask them is "who made you", and the answer is "God". The second is "why did He make you", and the answer is "for HIS glory". This got to me thinking of all the things that I do. How do I  allow God to express His glory through me, and I know it is not complicated at all, it is simple. What I mean  is in the simple things we do God  is glorified. A smile, a touch, doing the dishes when it is the task someone else, etc., are expressions of His glory. I know there are big things that give Him glory, but it is in the simple, the attainable, where he is most glorified.

Open letter to my Senator ...Bob Corker.

Thank you  for the response you and your office provided. 

It is time, dear sir, that men of the South remind themselves that they are not servants of a large Federal government , but the ancestors of greater men. Men who fought against the same over reaching government before. Though some of what they hoped to preserve needed to be destroyed , not all of what they fought for need be forgotten. Our country, Tennessee, is not  nor was it ever meant to be  left in servitude. 

Under the present tax structure, the States are left begging at the door of a Federal father who neither knows us , nor hears us when we cry. It is time for men to be great again. I plead with you dear friend, take your place among greater men, stand along side them. Leave whatever ambition you may have had and do the right thing, not for yourself but for all the citizens you represent.

Once again, Senator represent the interest  of the State, the country to whom you are first bound by sacred oath. 

It is my hope that when the tax system is restructured a more equitable disbursement will be achieved. I believe that a transparency will allow the legislatures of both the States and the Federal government to gain a handle on where the actual moneys reside and how they should be allocated. I believe this system will equalize the power of the States and give rebirth to our farms and industry, unrivaled again by the rest of the world.

Dear Senator Corker , I beg you to not just be a good legislator , but to be a great man.

Sincerely,

Scott E Chapman

Once

Dream a dream

And then again

Vision of love

That never ends

Every kiss

Newness found

Traveled into

Another bliss

Touches and caresses

Perfect in time

Stranded there

Gentle in kind

Tenderness felt

Meant only once

Never to be

Again

Dream Killer

For some time I have been contemplating “dreams”, not the ones that stimulate your mind when you sleep, but the others.

By dreams, I mean your longings, what you want from life. More specifically, what the individual wants from your time here in the temporal. I dare say, most sane people want the afterlife to be something of pleasantness, if they desire one at all.

Therefore, to make our travel from one end to the other, we dream. Since, it would be speculative at best to understand the dreams of someone else, I furrowed up and down my dreams for a while and would like to, if I may, distract you for a moment.

When I was much younger I dreamed all the time. Each day I would dream, heck I would dream continually. What would I do today, tomorrow, or perhaps the rest of the week? Dreams of being a professional player in either baseball or football, knowing that basketball dreams were a complete waste of time due to my vertical challenges. My imagination running as wild as my bare feet would take it, I could envision myself doing anything. Who did not want to be the President, saving the world from all it ills? Perhaps at one point I wanted to be a doctor, lawyer, fisherman, musician, or Marine. Endless were, and are childhood dreaming.

However, when you become an adult dreams take on a unique and special tangible constant. How you apply, or don’t apply your dreams have an outcome. They have an affect on you, and those around you. What if your dreams don’t workout, or are to begin with foolish. Don’t say that there are no foolish dreams, because there are and they can devastate.

So, over my life I have had many dreams, the writing of this blog would be one. To have an avenue of communication outside myself: a way for the whole world to hear my voice, if only in words written in print and pixels. A dream of immorality like countless others. However, at this point in my dreamland, my written words don’t pay the bills, and that is where reality can bring an end to wonderful dreams.

In the need to feed oneself, and the progeny that God has so well gifted, my dreams have been moved, or changed depending on the needs of the little birds that feed from the nest with which God has provided. In essence, my dreams have been “killed” in order to provide for something I value much more than my dreams. They are my little dream killers, and God be glorified that I have everyone of them, even the ones God has seen fit to call into His complete provision.

Now here is the beauty in the killing of a dream for a more noble purpose. In the death of my dreams, like a seed planted, I get the pleasure of burying my dreams in order that those more beautiful than I, can perhaps see theirs blossom into beautiful flowers one day. How wonderful it is to be a dream killer! How amazing it is to turn from dreamer, to the dream granter!

Henry McHenry

Henry McHenry lived in a tree

For he,

It was the only,

Well the only place to be.

Each day he would listen,

To his thoughts with intent

Devising a way,

To be less, discontent

Not that he did not,

Enjoy all he’d acquired

He looked everyday,

And ever day he admired.

His achievements were grand,

From intentions to inventions

With gadgets and gizmos,

Beyond all convention

Made from  things,

Only the bold could acquire

Wrestled from wreckage,

And things less desired

Things no one wanted

Discarded and rotten

Broken and battered

And sometimes forgotten

Items of inspiration

Others considered worthless

Though Henry’s discontentment

Valued them as priceless

So Henry’s irritation

Was meant to teach a lesson

For Henry, discontentment

Really was a blessing

It moved him to be different

Caused him to achieve

Reminded him to dream

What no one would believe

Henry McHenry lived in a tree

And for he

It was the perfect

The perfect place to be!

Another Field of Folly

In the field where folly fell

Where foolishness met it's doom



Where mischief awoke

From day dreaming slumber

Filling the air with gloom



There in that field

All alone

Hope began to rise



For smiles, laughter, play , and kindness

Escape through a child's eyes

Men of the West

Men of the West

Rise up! Rise up!

Shake of your slumber

Rise up!

Put on your Armour

Sharpen your swords

Rise up! Oh men, Rise up!

Fear not , but one

And no other!

Rise up, the time has come

Push her back

With violent force

To where that whore came from

Remember , Oh Japeth

From whence you came

Recall your father's blessing

Rule as you should

Rule them all

Laugh at all their cursing

Men of the West

Rise up! Rise up!

From ancient islands

Rise up!

Return to God

You Northern tribes

Rise up! Oh men, Rise up!

Carry the Cross

Upon your shields

Rise up! Against such sin

Vanquish that invader

Push down his creed

Enslavers of both Kith and Kin

Remember the past

See with clear vision

They rise against our lands

Defeat them NOW!

Make valiant hast

Restore your noble bands

Men of the West

Rise up! Rise up!

Sing of Might

Rise up!

Voices of victory!

Of Godly right

Rise up! Oh men, Rise Up!

Ever Missed

When they meet

If they met

If words

Were never spoken

Could they pass

If bodies pressed

Would hearts

Be never broken

Time would say

If it may

If lips

Were never kissed

That such pain

Lived in shame

For love

That's ever missed.

End of Days

The struggles of today behind us

 and the anticipation of the wonder of tomorrow

 we say goodbye to the last bit of light

 and gently close the gateway to reality 

as we long for the dreams that give us hope

 for those things which we dare not speak

 to those who would only snatch them away

 in order to rob us in jealous regret for their own lack of imagination.....

St. Patricks Day.... !!! What a wonderful saint............

Irish Eyes

When Irish eyes are smiling,

and Shamrocks fill the ground

When leprechauns go a leaping,

to their treasured ground

When cheerful thoughts of Emerald Isles,

prance upon your mind

When glasses are raised and raised again,

may happiness you find

When fiddlers play a joyful tune ,

and feet begin to dance

When snakes are driven far away ,

with bow and righteous lance

When all you've wanted rest before your eyes,

and you alone can see

When Irish eyes are smiling,

Oh please remember me..............

Snow flower

Will the flower fade away?

The one that bloomed in the winter

As the snow melts away

Will she give way to lesser?

To those that appear

In warmer days

Will she decline?

Give a better place

To those not so hardy

Those that appear in the sun

Will her pedals

Fall to warm earth

Touch where she could not

On heated soil

Lay there in remembrance

Of colder days

Is that her place?

Perhaps until colder nights.

EMMALINE IS FIVE !!!!

On the 13 day of March, in Hermitage Tennessee my heart was made fresh when my daughter Emmaline was born. Everyday, even in the darkest of times, her little voice will whisper " I love you daddy ", and all the worlds troubles, if only for a brief moment evaporate. My life would be shallow without her.


 Sometimes we are reluctant in sharing such a statement, thinking that we must love God more than humans, and surly we should. However, it is in the flesh of humanity and especially our progeny that we express our love to God and His is expressed to us. In the daily kindnesses that we show each other, in the giving to meet a need of friends or strangers, or just listening to someone, we show forth his presence in our lives, His imprint.


In His most infinite love toward me, he gifted me with my family, and in a special kindness , Emmaline. She is there  giving the gentlest of kisses to her daddy, when the weight of the universe seems to be stranded on his shoulders. She reminds me on days when I have forgotten, that I have a purpose.  Not a purpose to recite a well held system of theological truths, but to give them away in bed time prayers, comforting words when there are boo boo's on skinned knees, or in enjoying their truths in the wonder of a storm or starry night.


God is not jealous when we cherish His gifts rightly, He is pleased.....Therefore tomorrow, March 13, we will celebrate Emmaline's birth and cherish with special flare God's gift, His expression of love to our family, all packaged in the beauty of a little girl.

Jacob's Trial ( Life with dementia)

Where have they all gone, memories


Lost in a misty haze


Things that happened, yesterday


Forgotten, in a mental maze






Yes, she can remember  "yesterday"


Though 70 year's in her past


Walking through her childhood


In meadows of fresh cut grass






Clearly she has left us


Yet, intimate moments she recalls


When she was another's daughter


With dreams, and skips, and falls






Looking still he remembers


The beauty that was his bride


Her frustration now turned to anger


Destroyed! Is his once held pride






Memories, held in hand so golden


The treasury of so many years


This man so strong, on his knees


Her husband and lover, left in tears






Waiting there, at this end


Both gripped in this disease


Only fragments held in peace


Comfort them God, Oh please!

Real Life.....

I usually just post my little poetry lines in the hopes the perhaps someday, someone might actually read them. However, today was a special day for me.


Today I had the pleasure of taking care of Emmaline from fussy beginning, through Parish service, and just a few moments ago , a lengthy session of restfully watching some of my favorite music videos on my MAC. All through this wonderful day I looked into those beautiful eyes, and kissed that little neck, thinking to myself , "Oh God, in all my sin, you have gifted me with such beauty in my life". This little life that graces my days and nights, that loves me regardless, that lets me read my poetry to her reclined in my arms and doesn't make fun of me, or call me a girl for my sensitivities.This little soul that insist that I say the prayers with her and Henry every night when I am home, and makes me read to her, even when she has no idea what I am talking about, making me finish reading her The Declaration Of Independence out loud. Blessing is such an understatement, an unfinished expression of how I feel each moment my hours are graced by her. 


This is real, this is life, this is what makes it all worth it. It is in this little soul and souls like hers, in which the Church shall survive. This little Covenant child that will be the flower that blooms making God's Church more lovely to the world, as it already has mine.

Lonely all alone

I can feel it, each time you turn away,

Each time I miss your kiss

Every time the bed goes cold

I can feel the love we miss

I can be lonely all alone

I don't need a crowd like that

I can be lonely all alone

But I can't "want you" back

Every time I see you smile

Each time it's not for me

All your words, your " I love you's"

But I can't "want you" back

Something has got to change inside

Somethings got to give

I've given all to you and more

But I can't "want you" back

Just let me know, is this the way

You want to spend our life

Joined in touch-less romantic bliss

And I won't "want you" back

I can be lonely , all alone

I don't need a crowd of two

I can be lonely all alone

And you can be lonely too

Everything

Everything is perfect

Everything is fine

Everything is just as it’s meant

Everything between, the “How are y’all doing”

Everything with greetings sent

Everything in moderation

Everything perfectly placed

Everything in its time

Everything you have ever imagined

“Everything” contained in a rhyme

Beautiful People

I see them everywhere

Everywhere it seems

The beautiful people

Caught between the seams

In the cracks

Lodged hard and deep

Just waiting for someone

To take a quick peek

To look a little harder

At the beauty not seen

Those beautiful people

With beautiful dreams

Dreams no one imagined

Except for these down here

Those beautiful creatures

That no one will hear

No one will listen

And who can blame them

Why be bothered

You never could tame them

So, pass beauty by

And the dreams they carry

Go on your way

Just be merry

Don’t look to the cracks

Or the seams where they reside

Just go one your way

Pass them right by

But one day you’ll pause

Instead of forward, look up

And see you’re the beauty

That is down in the muck