BOOK

My heart is unread,



a book never opened


Pages never thumbed through by a passer by,


left on the shelf, dusty


Pushed back and uncatagorized


never to be found.......

Something on Christmas

Something more beautiful

On this Christmas Eve

More sweet than words

Presents, snow, cakes, and candies

Something more lovely

On this Christmas Day

More than smiles and bright eyes

Children with Christmas paper

Something more extravagant

On this blessed Advent night

More than offerings and prayers

Songs of praise and cheer

Something more common

On this glorious day

More ordinary than child’s cry

Common and holy as” family”

The Night Before Christmas…..

It was yo ho ho and all that Christmas junk
When all of a sudden I heard a big Clunk
So I pulled up my britches just to take a small peek
Why people bugging me when I am takin a leek.

Now all week I'd noticed some homeys around
casing my crib and acting the clown.
Now clowns are ok, but yet a bit scary
But this is, the season of elf’s and sugar plum fairies.

So, I went for the gun and didn't bother the "Mrs."
Cause I was coming back, for some more hug’s and kisses
Whatever this was and I hope it was nothing
Better be carolers, reindeer, or something.

I opened the door and I opened it fast
Hoping this intrusion would just soon be past.
The night air was cold, dark, and so snowy.
And when I looked at the roof, it was all bright and glowy.

I went farther out to get the bigger view
And what I saw next, I could tell only a few
This little white man in silk pajama britches
Was up on my roof with sleigh, deer, and hitches

Now round where I'm from, I ain't never seen
A white man in red, on a cold Christmas eve
I seen one on the street with can full of beer
But On my roof !With eight tiny reindeer?

Things like this just don't happen, in the hood where I live.
And I  haven't seen that elf, since I was a kid.
He said from his sleigh that I should not fear
It was Christmas Eve, and he was spreading some cheer.

Well all that is good in some other town
But he should be scared, all dressed like a clown
Up on my roof in a bad hood like mine
Singing and ringing like a bell in its prime

But being the neighbor and good man I am
I'd help this little elf or my name it ain't Sam
So , I cocked the gun so all those could hear
No one would end ,this night of good cheer.

And as he was finished and about to go on
I ask who he was and what took him so long
To pull out the toys from the pouch like you see
Santa he said the one and only "O.G"(original gangster)

WROTE THIS SOME TIME AGO ....lol.....meant in good spirit.....Take it for what it is....just meant to be a little funny...and that is probably all it is..." A little funnny...  :)  

My Best

The clear blue sky
Out came the news
That random thought
With different views

So unique I saw
This idea so queer
Not like anything
I used to fear

Not so odd now
Was the reasoned drop
That fell through , in
Then restfully did stop

Beyond all that was
Or supposed to be
Without the clouds
I clearly see

A stronger purpose
More resolved request
Let go of the past
Steadfast become my best 

Bound

It is the beauty of reflective thought

That we are amazed at all we are taught

From before the first breath, or eyes opened bright

We are who we are before mothers first sight

In transforming images through times open gate

Till in our last and wonderful sigh,assured of our fate

It is in the simple that make the complex rare

The peddle of a flower, or a curious stare

Are we not meant to explore all that is before

To go through the gates, unlocking the door

To what end are we affixed in all that is made

Why do we hesitate toward  what are we afraid

How can there be folly in the pursuit of the true

Why to the rush away,so the finders are few

In only one conclusion can an answer be found

An aversion to freedom that keeps our mind bound

Lover's Prayers

Memories decline

To call to mind

The fragrance

Of flowers never born

In heartless tragedy

Recollections never

 Embraced again

In memoirs

Never written

In pen less ink

Reminisces folioed

In aching regret

Bigger ideas

Of lover’s prayers

Aborted timelessly

It's True

It’s true, it’s true

Better than I

You!

And all alike

Better than I

In all your

Glory

Better

In mind and sight

It’s true, it’s true

Weaker am I

Me!

And all alike

Weaker am I

In all my

Glory

To wonder

From your sight

It’s true, it’s true

Stronger are

You!

Not a one, is like

Stronger are

In all your

Glory

Stronger

To restore my sight

Peace

In two dwellings

Do I find

Peace that all men seek

One reclined

On wooden pew

Surrounded by the meek

Every Sabbath

Sometimes more

Redemption echo’s often

Always sweetly

In rebuke

My heart begins to soften

Now the other

Peaceful place

Fleshly, Oh so mild

Merciful God

Gifted me

With my youngest child

In her smile

And sweet voice

A calming melody

Little touches

Wrapped round hugs

Comfort grabs holt of me  

Southern Skies

Eyes that reside in Southern skies



See the world, so differently


Bending minds to humbler times


And reminiscent most significantly






About the beauty of calmer days


When tomorrow came as expected


Not in persistence of blurred haze


In varied moments most reflective






Oh to feel that bright Southern sun


With an infrequent Northern breeze


When words spoken once, then done


"Thank you""Yes Ma'am" and "Please"






Frequented neighbors and our kin


With voices and help , never distant


Till brutal came, that Northern wind


Destroying the calm, in an instant






Whatever the reason, providence fell


The winds and breezes now yearning


Feed the fire, that forge the bell


Of Southern pride, now burning

Sunday's are Sunny

Sunday’s are sunny

Like they should be

Said my youngest son, to me

And in return, said I to he

You are correct, very much I see

So open the windows

And let Sunday come in

Pull up the blinds

Let in the wind

Let it blow hard

Right through this home

This is the place

For this Sunday to roam

Not just the wind

But the sunshine in force

And not just the literal

But the spiritual of course

For Sunday’s are sunny

And for my son, it’s true

Yes, Jesus makes Sunday’s

Sunny

For you

Tell me

Tell me about today

Tell about tomorrow

Tell me about your world

The dreams you dream and borrow

Tell about your yesterday

Tell me about the past

Tell me about your home

The things you want to last

The Ride

THE RIDE
  

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

Ruins

Into ruins

Ancient , Past

Outside

Looking in

 

Into caverns

Textures, scents

Inside

What's never been

 

Constantly searching

Colors, peddles

Flowers

That never bloom

 

Randomly breathing

Pounding, beating

Within

Darkened rooms

Tortured Chamber

Take a walk , down this hall

To my tortured chamber

Take a look, at these  fixtures

Placed so thoughtfully

Gaze , gander at such beauty

Resting in deafening silence

See the table, set before me

Each night with great awe

A delight for man, fully spread

Though never a bite tasted

All the pleasures ,to tempt a hunger

Yet, starving will you leave

Wasted senses, sight ,touch,taste

In this tortured chamber

Complaint

My heart cries to thee oh Lord



Strokes my pen into labor


Resolving to voice my complaint


Words escape my soul


Embracing each other


As tangled lovers


Holding tightly together


Displaying larger commonality


Hopeful peacefulness,disrupted


My tears,orphaned strangers


Are not many thus and so


Dare I not raise an accusation


Not toward the God of all heaven


What is my complaint to thee


Why is my hand set to write


That Lord God of heaven


You would rescue me from illusion


And within me with deliberate action


Reside in with deepness of intent


Your ordinary means of Grace

True Voice

O to shout !


If I could


To speak


With open lips


O to say!


What I should


With pen


And finger tips


O to voice!


In public squares


With proclamations


Forceful, strong


O to exclaim!


What must be


With emotions


Held to long


O to expel!


What was recanted


When whispers


Flew in the wind


O to proclaim!


In resignation


The truth


To whatever end

Though't that I'm sending...

Breaking away
Searching anew
Looking for answers
Finding a few
Knowing the question
Before it is asked
Knowing the outcome
The purpose now masked
Amazed in a problem
The solution yet found
Hearing the music
The query of sound
Philosophy of learning
Quest for to know
Inquiry of manners
Answers come slow
Purpose of living
Always never ending
Constant for now
Thoughts that I'm sending

My Delusion

My delusion is a conclusion

I have reached on my own

A fantastic illusion

Of my thoughts now reformed

Is this an intrusion

Into the pristine where I live

Or the energy of fusion

meant to forgive

My mind runs in confusion

As the hours pass by

A reality of deep erosion

That won't let me fly

I need an infusion

To break free from my chain

Is this simple delusion

Perhaps, I am really insane...

Eyes of Beauty

Beauty in an Angels face

Formed in God’s marvelous time

Prepared for times, just as these

Born in concert from a time long ago

When beauty resided in the soul

And sparkled in the eye of kindness

 A ghost from antebellum past

Spirit that soars in the brightness of a smile

Walking angelic, delightful carnality

Formed to please the eyes

 O peace to all who touch her path

And see the eyes of beauty, in an Angel’s face.

Black Birds

  

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.

Half Hearted

To the one with half a heart
Perhaps, maybe smaller pieces
Those who've given some to all
With aching , that never decreases
Once to live with only one
convinced of no one other
Now the pain of conscience split
With two , and one another
Why to test , what was rare
A love that was so pure
Fragments now, of broken hearts
Scattered and shattered for sure
Is there a remedy , meant to heal
To quench and release this sorrow
Well, maybe hearts are meant to break
And love a gift to borrow......






Old poem, but I needed to republish it today...

She loves me....

She loves me, She loves me
She likes me not
Now take a few hours
To untie that tight knot
And if you can
Tie it right back
Riddle me not
It's an absolute fact
Untied and retied
In emotions that knot and slip
Fanciful red bows
Curled at each tip
Tie it so lovely
Worlds most tangled knot
She loves me, She loves me
She likes me not

I pray, for you

I pray, for you

As soft white skin touches your pillow

Slumbering face drifts into dreams

Beauty searches for just the right place of rest

I pray, for you

As dawn burst forth in all splendor

Waking from only wonderful marvelous dreams

Adventurous toes, touching ground one more morning

I pray, for you

As I share not in your first lovely smile

That first thought of a love , is not of me

Mine, not the first face you see, or even see at all

I pray, for you

As day passes, my love barely crosses your mind

In those moments,a brushing of hair from your cheek

Maybe,you remember the more beautiful days spent

I pray, for you

As day turns night, labor now relieved

Washing the poison of loneliness from your body

Again laying down, awaiting God's gift of beauty filled dreams

I pray, for you

My ears, My eyes

I can't believe my ears, my eyes

The breaking of most common ties

With words of truth, that gnash and break

Please don't speak , for heavens sake

Remind me not, of who I've become

Trust to where, we both came from

Prestigious pinnacle , perched high atop

Don't knock me down , to what I'm not

Recoil from words, that destroy, lay waste

Refrain from sentences, with bitter taste

Peace and Peace, rest and rest

Words that encourage, are my request

Say them often , tenderly, softly

Flowery adjectives, beautiful and lofty

What I know, needs no repeating

From inside my soul, I'll take my beating

So thank you for, the truth you've sown

I'll dwell there often, now leave me alone.

Harpeth Lion

Drop, drop, drop, upon your back

No one gave a notice

Sleeping in restful slumber

The beauty of the beast

Many had played by your side

Slightly giving notice

Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle upon your head

Your eyes began to wake

The rustle of your mane

A momentary single glance 

 An almost silent roar

Called to your kin

Pour, pour, and pour, upon your pride

Your children began to move

The young to mothers

A family reuniting

Flowing toward the safety

Alone you provide

Roar roar, roar, upon the ears

All began to hear

Noticed now was the beast

With all his offspring near

Raised high with claws exposed

All mighty is the beast

Claw claw, claw upon the land

The beast began to tear

All ran in fear from the blows

Exhausted in the haste

Some escaped form the beast

Though none will forget

Shine shine, shine upon the neck

Anger now subsided

Back to rest and to slumber

The children away again

Never un-noticed once again

The beast in that place

No particular place

No particular place was it at all,

Went the man, with the Southern drawl


Walking quickly, would be such a sin
If nowhere he went, then went back again


There has to be a place, to be going he thought
Perhaps to the grocery,  delicious taste could be bought


Maybe he was strolling, to meet an old friend
Yes! that was the purpose, of his  "back again"


So strolling he was going, quickening his pace
To see a warmer smile , from a friendlier face


To talk of rare times, between then and how
Remembering the " why", they were even friends now


Through trials and fights, and words you can't take back
Yes, that's where he was going, he was on the right track


First down one street , then he turned  on the other
Past yellow picket fences, through the gate of another


Up three short stairs, that raised  toward the door
Then without knocking, strolled he onto  that floor


He past through the kitchen , then  made a harder right
To where his  friend faithfully , had slept every night


He finally came to a stop, speaking with his Southern tenor
To the friend he was seeking, his friend in the mirror....