Be Gentle With This Day
A day of beauty comes to mind
which may be almost any kind
but some I like to think about
are summer days which do abound.
Trees so beautiful at hand
and beauty’s placed across the land –
enough for every living soul
and sun and wind and rain unfold.
In settings beautiful as these
why be the only one displeased
and loose your wrath and temper on
his gracious beauty flowing on.
Why be angry if you can
when heaven itself lies close at hand.
Immerse yourself in blessed day
and wash your cares and frets away.
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Dear Lord May I Just Watch the Sky
Dear Lord may I just watch the sky
without a streetlight on nearby.
Watch thy very special dawn
without a streetlight being on.
The dawn of day is just thy own,
without our light and noise below.
In perfect stillness, quietness,
watch you wake the sky from rest.
When we were a younger child
we were quiet in our mind
long before the sun did rise
and rose to meet the wakening sky
happy in those days gone by.
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Will This Day Ever End...
I've begged a thousand times
daybreak unto dusk
but still it never dies.
Misery unto misery
but still it lingers on,
endurance ragged with the shocks
but still they’re never gone.
Consolations there were none
but yet the day was never done.
Blow by blow and beat by beat
its assaults did never cease
but always came as just one more
added to the ones before.
Just to forget and lay to rest
this dire and dreadful day
when finally all the endless shocks
at last have had their way.
But now it seems that peace somehow
has wended slow its way
and caught up with the very end
of this disastrous day.
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Trees
We often take for granted
the great and noble trees,
existing in their world
almost unconsciously.
For they were much before us,
living graciously,
and covered much of earth,
the creatures and the trees.
And millions years did come and go
and night and day and sun
and no one heard of us
in all creation.
Just the lovely trees
existing peacefully
in rain and wind and light and dark
and naught disturbed their dream.
The trees are very beautiful
each in its own way,
loftily or graciously
have so much to say.
We can’t begin to understand
just what they mean to us
or capture what their essence is,
a vast elusiveness.
For they were here before us
and formed our thoughts and dreams
and led our hopes so subtly
we know not how it seems.
Solid and yet yielding,
eternal strength and grace,
we cannot figure out
what fascinates our gaze.
And tho we love the trees
we can never say
just what it is that draws us
or why it is that way.
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The Happiness We Often Cause
The happiness we often cause
when we plant a tree
may last for many years
tho unknowingly.
Someone in most distant time
may buy our house or yard
and marvel at the greenery,
a real work of art.
Standing tall and lovely
from when they were so small
of the time when they began
don’t think of it at all.
And so the gift is cherished,
renewing every day
and goes for years beyond our life
when we are in our grave.
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The Arabian Dress
The beautiful Arabian dress
is sinuous, supple too
and always full of life
as the wind blows thru.
A face mask also worn
which emphasizes eyes,
making beauty yet again
which draws and tantalize.
Gold and silver thread
may be sewn along
in beautiful designs
in this dress that’s long.
The Quran thus is very strict
about their public dress
and the honor of the men
depends on codes that met.
Tho it’s usually black
it would be pretty too
in colors that are gay
but yet cover too.
I think the women won again
with this gorgeous gown,
full within the law
and yet of world renown.
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My Organ
I have a lovely organ
with the deepest tone
and many slow vibrations
lovely in our home.
And tho it’s not played often
it has an atmosphere
of heaviness and solidness
which lasts throughout the years.
On top there is a statue,
young lady done in gold
and tho she’s quite composed
she’s not very old.
Her hands are clasped in prayer
and her head is bowed.
Wheat is in her skirt
and she has worked no doubt.
While the statue’s simple
its meaning is profound
of prayer and work and dignity
and reverence that is found.
Above we find the praying hands,
a message very old
and they are brown and bent,
the years have had their toll.
On the side a scroll
of a Chinese scene
and mountains and a river,
mostly blues and greens.
Some nobles are returning home
and they must ford the stream.
Young boys are helping them
in this mountain scene.
The mountains very high,
the people rather small.
This is very Chinese,
with lessons for us all.
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Beggars
Calling beggars by the score –
ask a penny, two, or more.
Misery, despair, their plight –
begging is a way of life.
Deformity is easily seen;
crowds will pass as if unseen.
Who can cry the loudest, most,
for someone to relieve his woe.
Everywhere a constant cry—
doorways, streets, to passersby.
Some will help, and some pass by.
Vendors sell their many wares,
but beggars ask of us a prayer,
to fill for them a tiny spot,
of hunger pangs that never stop.
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NO
Some folks are so negative
it seems that every thought
is stepping on a happiness
and bringing it to naught.
Or if a bit of happiness
still is peeping thru,
hasten to extinguish it
as these folks often do.
Negative in living
and negative in thought,
these folks wave the banner
that things be as they ought.
They douse all things original
and put out every smile
and make a stern encounter
with faces cast so vile.
And if you have to live with them
your life is very sad
for nothing change their countenance
and nothing makes them glad.
But always straight of face and stern
their only word is No,
enveloped in the negative
as on thru life they go.
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Light On Water, Always Moving
Light on water, always moving,
undulating in its glow.
Light at night, sometimes eerie
in the water’s deep dark flow.
Lanterns set in front of ships
cutting distance with each dip
until the light’s upon the shore
and ocean black that it was for.
Or two ships tie up at sea
exchanging goods and revelry.
Closer come the tiny lights
growing in the dark of night.
Sun in day and moon at night
giving different kinds of light.
One a broad expanse does light:
one a pathway in the night.
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Sometimes
Sometimes we know
and sometimes we don’t know.
In worldly ways are wise
but miss the little happiness
that makes us more alive.
Sometimes we care
and sometimes we don’t care,
like a ship gliding at seas
that passes another silently
and only the waves in the dead of night
knew they were there or even in sight.
Sometimes we’re glad
and sometimes we’re not glad,
like a buoy at sea
rising and falling alternately.
And the ways that we see
and the ways that we care
differ as day
and the night and the air.
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Sunken Treasure
Off the coast of Italy
in the deep blue sea
many ships have met their fate
all thru history.
Divers go and seek
for sunken treasure there,
statues, swords of ancient times
and belts that they did wear.
And sometimes when they find
a statue green with age
they marvel at the rounded lines
mellow any place.
And hold it in their hands
and wonder how they thought,
people who long gone
compelling beauty wrought.
Precious for its meaning,
precious for its lines
and the thought behind it
coming down in time.
And fascination grows
increasingly in time
at this little statue
and others of its kind.
And while we stand and hold it
the little fishes play
among the wreckage of the ship
of another day.
And life inspects the mystery
from another time
and livens up the waters
in the sea of brine.
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Ancient Ruins
Ancient ruins strung along
of ancient people now long gone.
Wonder, awe and mystery
surrounds the shrines and old cities
And we stand and wonder there
what was their cause and why and where.
Ancient wonders one by one
set far apart as they were done.
Egyptians and the Aztecs made
pyramids and ancient graves.
Ancient Buddhist temples too
set deep in jungles that they knew.
And we see them there today
with heavy vines and trees in place
and hardly can maintain their care
for the jungle growing there.
Our imagination grows
to worlds that were before our own –
ancient cities, ancient stones,
ancient writing new unknown.
What was their cause. We stand and gaze
at monuments that oft amaze.
Thru the centuries they wrought
and often God their only thought.
Religion was important then
and tho they all be only men
they built in stone eternity
monuments from which time flies.
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They Also Serve Who Only Sit and Wait
Waiting is a nasty word
to those who do it long,
depressing and restricting
as the years roll on.
Waiting for the phone to ring
as it was my duty,
I recalled my father’s quote
that stayed so long with me.
"They also serve who only sit and wait"
and it gave me some hope
that it was more than nothing,
those hours that often choke.
And I recalled a lighthouse
where for months alone
a man might stay on duty
tho it might be his home.
And good he did while waiting there
tho the hours long
and ships depended on it
by crews that they belonged.
And while they’re automatic
in the world today
many faithful souls
remained for many days.
And also in the forests
the towers were for fires
and many souls watched
in isolated hire.
As for the many wars
they had watchtowers too
and men stood thru the night
if enemy came thru.
And tho some things have changed today
we tire of waiting too
but can remember history
and they were waiting too.
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However Life is Tough and Hard
However life is tough and hard
often you can't find
any sympathetic
or any on your side.
This very odd phenomena
in truth can't be explained –
what is clear to you yourself
vanishes like rain.
If you speak or do not speak
it almost is the same.
Some don't even answer
tho to you is pain.
And so it seems our burdens,
if conscious or if not,
meet the same predestined fate
to vanish on the spot.
Not a single voice is heard,
I'm sorry for your state.
Not a note of sympathy
as you your tale relate.
And what is oh so big to you
meets the self same fate,
as if you didn't speak
or your woes relate.
It seems most peculiar
to find that silence there
as if they didn't hear
or never ever care.
And so you pick them up yourself
with silence in the air
and wonder who you're talking to
or if they're even there.
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Wood
We love wood for its color
and intricate design
and goodness unto man
with service throughout time.
Wood is for its mellowness
and deepest, richest tone
always satisfying,
never growing old.
It wouldn’t be the same
without the atmosphere
it brings into our mind
of naturalness quite near.
Oak forests in the fall
bend their branches down
and leaves all bronze and acorns
scatter all around.
And the autumn light
falls upon the bark
of strong and sturdy trees
in history made a mark.
And so the oak trees in the fall
with their giant base
have pathways thru the forest
that light and shade do grace.
And then we think of ships
that sailed the many seas,
mostly made of wood
all thru history.
From planks unto the bow
carved and fitted in
and trusted by the crew
who knew every inch,
its strength in stress and strain,
in storms and wind and sea
and how they could survive
if it were seaworthy.
And so it was a friend
which often saved their lives
and went beyond its strength
so seamen did survive.
Wood gives us the feeling
of solidness, content,
in all its kinds of uses
a lasting value meant.
Even in a pile of wood
speaking to us still
and many lessons teach us
of character and will.
We never tire of trees,
however life is long,
strong and yet compliant
regret when they are gone.
Inspiration often found,
resolve to carry on
in the constant strength of trees
enduring thru all wrong.
And lessons in a tree,
unconscious it may be,
models for our years of life
upstanding, silently.
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Apples Lying on the Ground
Apples lying on the ground,
such a waste you see,
for these are natural apples,
fell right off the tree.
Every year they grow themselves,
no pruning or no spray
and while they’re very good to eat
they’re hard to give away.
Even in recessions
you hesitate to ask
if they would like some apples –
I guess they’d rather fast.
Folks are used to store bought ones,
waxed and polished bright,
not a break upon their skins
and perfect in their sight.
They would be offended
by any little bruise
or hint it wasn’t perfect
and maybe friendship lose.
Some people wouldn’t recognize
apples on a tree
with variegated color
and each look differently.
Even now the stores can’t sell
fruit that’s just itself.
It must be powdered, roughed and rubbed
and look like something else.
It’s a shame that we don’t know
fruit that’s naturally
but actually we turn our nose
at fruit that’s on a tree.
And so the children feel disgust
for apples lying there
as eaten in the times of past
by their own forebears.
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