He sits cross-legged
in the middle of the sidewalk
A tan coat, dirty and worn,
the final layer of protection
over all his belongings
all of his belongings
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
Foolishness claims he
chose this lifestyle
That throwing away
His belongings will
magically clean
up the streets
Instead, this demolition
paves a dangerous path
toward ignoring our
responsibility to love,
no matter what
A dangerous path
whitewashed as a
much-improved scene,
until close observation
reveals the truth
Someone’s son helplessly
sits in the middle of the sidewalk
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
First Few Notes
Like an old friend
whose gentle voice
immediately fills your soul
so is the song whose first few notes
gently pull you into a familiar embrace
Tears and smiles
grapple for their rightful
place in an emotional response
before finally acknowledging the
intention was always to coexist
Working together
they plant melodic lines
and poetic lyrics deep inside
the heart of the youngest listener-
at first, unaware of their influence
Roots grow, weaving in,
out, and around the decisions
and experiences of life, creating
a sweet, pliable core of awareness
always ready for another listen
And then one day…
A familiar chord
A long-fade ending
like a trusted friend
offers a lingering sense of sweet
acceptance…a hopeful see you again soon
Kelley Morris, piano
Grab Hands
My heart says rise above
Don’t be pulled down by
the weight of ugly words
and thoughtless actions
My head generates
logical responses
intended to make me
sound more intelligent
Where is the love in that?
Held back, pressed
down and further
down, tying me
to deep discontent
Where is the answer hiding?
Perhaps if I stop
thinking only of myself
and grab your hand
and we run through
a field so fast our feet
begin to hover
above the ground
before we fall into
the soft grass, laughing
and gaze at the clouds
Perhaps…
Pure Poetry
Many weeks ago, a friend and fellow blogger/poet/author Kelley Morris, wrote this amazing poem to accompany a photo I shared on my blog. How fitting …
Pure Poetry
Please visit my friend, Karla’s, blog. Her example of hope and faith during the good and the bad is beautiful. Flannel with Faith
Simply Sunday
Broken hearts
Happy hearts
Both are a part
of this life
When we feel lost
waiting to be found
When we are found
hoping never
to be lost again
The heart measures
time differently
It never forgets
Being filled
Broken
Mended
Filled again
It never forgets
Growing
Loving
Beating in sync
with another
Like the tick-tock
of the clock
even though an
inaccurate gauge
where hearts
are concerned
Time is fluid
Holding all
the possibilities
of the universe
within the rhythm
of each heartbeat
Revisiting, reworking, resharing…myself or a poem. This one seems appropriate for today.
Originally published in my poetry collection, Quiet Embers-A Poetry of Faith. Available here.
Happy Sunday, friends! ❤️
Enduring Imprint
The sky was dark
except for a few stars
and distant street lights
I watched in amazement
as the space station
flew overhead
It soared like an
undying meteorite
moving in slow motion
My eyes followed
its path until a swath
of mysterious white rays
painted on the horizon
blocked it from view
Had sun rays carved
an evening cloud bank
into evenly spaced beams?
The sun had long since
disappeared from my
little corner of the world
Long out of sight, yes
but its impact remained
quietly reminding me
of the enduring imprint
etched into my once
stilled heart by the
light of lasting Love
Eerily Clean
Despite the upbeat music playing in my car
The drive to work was eerily quiet –
A pale brown deer stood alone
in the corner of the field I pass daily-
I barely caught a glimpse
of her head turning as I drove past
Happy and sad at the same time
A combination of feelings I understand
I don’t understand the deafening
cries to clean up the streets
simultaneously seeking to silence
the cries of hurting hearts
I don’t understand tearing a man
from the only home he knows
destroying his tent and what few
belongings he owns
So much prideful noise, such a lack
of compassion and understanding-
The streets are eerily clean, but
our hearts must answer
the frightening question
hanging stagnant in the air-
Where did the people go?
Simply Sunday
Returning Customers
Her quiet way and
seasoned mannerisms
eased my impatience
I watched as she wrote
each order in shorthand
on paper tickets
Waited as she entered prices
one key at a time on an
old-fashioned cash register
She was part of a well-oiled
machine concerned with
service and product, not speed
Have you been here before?
Yes, this is my second visit
We love returning customers
Right, Alex? Glancing behind me
Looking back at me, she smiled
You have a beautiful smile
An unexpected compliment
while ordering lunch
I smiled back, Thank you
Forward
Clouds could not contain
its brightness-squinting
I looked only long enough
to snap two photographs
Side by side, the difference
was slow to appear, slight
adjustment of time, seconds,
but a revelation for eternity
Closer to the light than
I could ever hope to be
flying across the sky
wings spread wide and free
Light held in clouds
yet, bright enough
to carry him forward
into the hope of his future
Second Look
A person ahead of me
And another behind
Do they see what I see?
Take another look
Yes, it’s still there
spikes following
the curve of its head
ridges lining its back
Not a frightening creature
Quite the opposite
It seems to be smiling
Swimming in the blue
Should I roll down my window?
Shout out for all to hear?
Hey! Look at that!
Would anyone believe me?
Perhaps if I snap a picture
Piano Girl 