What is the meaning of life?

Why is it that I choose to write...

Poetry, of which no one may care?

Poetry, of which I may never share?

I guess the only thing that matters

In life is that I finally, at last

Get it right.  And Poetry...

Is just a means... of getting there.

2024

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There are those whose eys, unable to contain the pain, have turned to glass.

There are those defiled, for sport or gain, whose eyes are now portals,

from which pure evil peers.

But equally sad are those eyes, seeing evil they can not comprehend,

So they pretend... they see nothing at all.

written  2016/ illustration by Marla Joy

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Beware of things that seem easy.  Quick calls, easy installs

They're not what they seem to be.

They seem simple enough...  to let your guard down.

That's when you get got.

Salvation's easy.   No... not really.

Love's easy.    No... not really.

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My heart is not the same.

It is worn and torn,

But every now and then

I feel it beat...

And I know

That You're still there.

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An unknown journey

As I walk toward the New Year

With fear... hope... and joy!

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I know I'm not a hobo... on a train

But I feel like a vagabond... just the same.

My soul is like a wayfaring stranger,

Unable to settle down

Who's always just passing through

Going from town to town.

If I could just plant myself...

By a stream and let my roots grow...

I'd raise my branches toward the sun,

And bend when the wind does blow.

2009

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If you sell your soul

Can you ever get it back?

Have you ever felt something

Slipping slowly from your grasp?

When that something lost is so vast

Can you just go on?

When you're in the fight of your life

And loose, can you forgive yourself?

When life's parade passes you by

Do you bother to wave?

Can you keep asking the questions

With answers too hard to face?

Ca...

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My heart races when I think of you.

In your eyes, I see who I want you to be.

In your arms, I picture me there.

My heart sees what it wants to see.

Seeing you're not real, it pounds anyway.

Out of instinct, want and need.

I remind it that you don't care.

You only have love to take.

With nothing to give in return,

My heart doesn't care.

It just wants and want...

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Believe

What

is the

reason for

the season? Why

do we celebrate

the date a child was born?

Perhaps... as a reminder

We have a chance for redemption

If we open our hearts to believe.

[]

(Click Read/Comment to get Christmas tree effect)

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With my birdfeeder full

A bountiful supply

I think I'm giving nature a hand.

But as I watch nature unfold

It is she, that is helping me

By including me in her plan.

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How come that child is in the bramble,

Living in that bush of thorns?

I watch her, but I can't get her out.

I say to her, "Child, come up out of there,

Out from that thorny bush."

But she can't hear me now.

She grabs a thorn and says "Mommy,"

As the blood stains her little hand.

She has no desire to get out.

Another scratch now across the face,

To leave...

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Without you

I splatter.

I drip. I drop. I spill.

I am paint.

I conform to your will.

With you

I am bold, intense.

I shine.

Or I am quiet and reflective.

But I speak.

My life is a canvas

Ready to be filled.

I am paint...

I yield.

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You are older now.

You are not just a kid.

Are you regretting the things

You wish you did?

Are life's sweetest moments

The ones already passed away?

Or can you look around

And find joy in your day?

Right where you are at this moment

You may cherish when you are old.

Moments now taken for granted,

Could be the treasures you hold.

One day you may la...

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In my innocence I was brave...

And knew no fear,

No boundaries, no limits, no doubts,

Unable to imagine my spirit contained.

The sky was open...

Then came that ceiling,

That flattened the top of my head,

And crowded my dreams with fear.

The ceiling was clear...

You could see right through,

Unwaivering and unmovable it sat,

Intending to crush my dreams, so...

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The driftwood floats,

Down toward the rocky slopes,

Without a care in the world.

"I can't be bothered by those jagged rocks now,

In this cool water where I enjoy my ride,"

"Besides, there's still time to turn this around,

If I could just go against the tide."

"What a life this is being driftwood,

Where I go next is anybody's guess."

So I smile like nothing's the matter,

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Why do poets ponder

The birds of the air...

For their beauty, their freedom, their song?

Why do they find peace in asking

Questions that begin with why?

Why are they so willing to share

The inner most part of their soul,

Hidden in symbolic mazes

With hedges high?

I guess what I'm really asking

Is why do I?

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Ladybug, ladybug on my wall

It was there all summer, but now it's fall.

It was there all season, but never found reason

To stand and fight, or take off in flight.

It just clung there helpless.... on my wall.

Afraid to stand, afraid to fall.

Not really sure about its gender,

Just watched it miss out on life's spendor.

Was it waiting there for a man?

Or for someone el...

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While most other birds sing a duet,

Or with a chorus hidden up in a tree,

There's a little bird that sings loud and proud, 

Alone, but in harmony.  

This little bird sings outside my window,

While the rest of the birds are asleep. 

This little bird sings with depth and conviction,

While others can only dream.

Where does it find the courage 

To stand alone and sing?

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