SONS OF JAPETH ... RISE UP!

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!

Whispering Pines

I wrote this on a warm night as a breeze began to rush through the trees I was looking at. I wondered as I looked at the trees , about all the things these trees might have felt and seen.

Across all time
Through whispering pines
The wind relays her voice

To call to mind
A more ancient time
When she spoke at a slower pace

When these she touched
Enjoyed her more
In the cool ,or a

warm spring breeze

No forward notice
To her arrival at all
Just the comfort of the release she brings

More gentler times
Knew the taller pines
For they have been more frequently so

Touched by her breath
Calmed by her voice
Loved when so gently she kissed.....

Henry McHenry

Henry McHenry lived in a tree

And 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 everyday he admired.

His achievements were grand,

From intentions to inventions

With gadgets and gizmos,

Beyond all convention

Made from odd things,

Only the bold could acquire

Wrestled from wreckage,

And things less desired

Items 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!

This is a repost ...just because I love this poem, and more important....MY SON...whom inspires me!

Emmaline is the BIG 6!

 TODAY Emmaline is  6years old and we will be feasting and enjoying a big family day of fun. What my life would be without her, I can't even imagine.She is the sweetest , most caring person in my life, and she inspires our entire family to be a little kinder to everyone each day. God gives gifts to men, and every moment I know tangibly that she is his gift to me. Thanks be to GOD!

Cotton Pillow

I gazed upon an angels face

As she rested upon her pillow

Thinking with most covetous eyes

Never one mental frame would I dare share

For there on that cotton resting place

The purest of creamy skin, flowing blond hair

Eyes of clearest blue, opening for just a moment

She dreams of creatures, places, I've long forgotten

The toss of her head from side to side

I am arrested in my heart, thinking she may wake

Resolved in my selfishness,

Knowing this heavenly voyeurism would be over

I find myself casting my voice toward the divine

Hoping to be heard in the only request I have today

  "Please, let this time, these images be suspended forever, to be captivated in safe retreat in my mind."  

   Allow death to come before a thief, as time or decay robs me of what I have witnessed today.

The purposeful image of divine imagination

Resting on a humbled man's cotton pillow.....

Black Bird

Why old Black Bird, do you live?

Among the beauty, of Dove and Swans

Why do you burden, those peaceful birds?

With your fowl songs

Squawks and screeches, never would be heard

If to flight, those big black wings

Would right now, fly far away

From where the kindly bird sings

Why don’t you leave, this restful pond?

And escape their lovely sight

Take those songs, and big black wings

Take them all to flight

I can’t, I can’t, with squawking beak

Said, Black Bird to the Dove

I won’t, I won’t, in screeching tones

For it is you I love

I know I’m not, as beautiful as these

That rest upon this pond

But who will notice, the beauty of Swans

 If all, the Black Birds are gone.

this is just a very good write...If I say so myself....

Night and Day

...

In the fog of misty dawn
Light gently wanting to touch
Into the remnants of her time
She struggles to not let go
Hanging on to her elegance
The time that she will share
With those whom enjoyed her beauty
Those who would have the chance
The moon and the stars all swooned
Dancing in this time all hers
Exhausting all joy in her arms
Knowing that their time was short
Others played within her breast
Not really knowing her love at all
In the bliss of loving ignorance
No discovery of her beauty's charm
She had not one selfish thought
No praise she needed to receive
Gladly she enjoyed their companionship
Smiling as she realized her voyeurism
How she wished she was as
Those she gazed at in silence
Enjoying her lover's long embrace
Not moments shared just twice
For it is resigned she is cursed
Though her beauty is so matchless
For the misty fog that greets her.. Day
Are the tears of his love, Night’s glances

imagined

memories slip away ,

time falls from the sky ,

dreams  trusted to a friend,

turn to gold in the heart of lovers ,

tears torn from what might have been,

wet the ground of the soul for something

more beautiful than  ever imagined

"The Field of Folly"

Today I walked along a path
Barefoot beside a wall of holly
And came upon an open gate
Then walked into a "Field of Folly"

Upon the grass that grew inside
Were flowers most beautiful and rare
Catching the fragrant color of their blooms
The hours passing by as I did stare

Not only were the blossoms there
But in taller grass, well hidden
To keep the lookers and passers by
From a box which was forbidden

What could be in this well crafted cube
With hinges and lock of a golden treasure
And dare I break the silver chorded seal
To reveal it's often sought for pleasure

Now who could resist such a temptation
Finding contents of worth, so true
Heart bounding anxiously I broke the lock
And hoped for this treasure brand new

But in the box to my surprise
Was a treasure that few had ever taken
A simple request on common paper
That "The Dreamer must awaken"

This is a repost, but it is one of my favorites....

Godly Tears……

Today I cried a “godly tear”

And before you gasp,

 Oh my!

What made him cry?

Those holy tears

What made his eyes, not dry?

Was it great wickedness?

Or besetting sin

That made these rivers flow

Was it emptiness?

Deep within

Causing this tearful show

It wasn’t a single thing

Or even something

More sinister

That might now require

An audience with

His caring Parish minister

No! What he meant

And godliness,

He did gain

The simple truth

That when God cries

It's because we'll sin again.

If I could

If I could

I would reach out and touch you

I would rap my arms around you

Hold you tight

Never would I let you go again

If I could

I would speak to you softly

Dazzle you with words most lofty

Tell you I love you 

Never would I let you go again

If I could

I would body and soul lay bare

Never again with another would I share

Make love to you

Never would I  let you go again

If I could