Category Archives: A poem for the people

The glory of God’s Kingdom

I’ve seen the glory of God’s Kingdom,

walked golden streets in my dream,

listened to angels sweetly singing,

sheltered safe beside a quiet stream.

 

I saw lions and lambs frolic in green pastures,

watched mankind’s children, and cobras at their play.

When I heard our Him so gently speaking,

awed and  humbled, I fell upon my knees to pray.

 

Peace and love overflow the Holy city.

There is shelter for all beneath His mighty wings.

All who know of God’s goodness love and praise Him,

and to His everlasting glory sing.

 

I’ve seen the glory of God’s Kingdom.

Oh how I wish that I could stay.

Perhaps if I love and obey Him,

He will ask me to come back some day.

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The Simple Truth

Today’s youth cry out

what is truth,

and truth replies

just as loud to youth.

 

you must seek me

if you wish to know my name,

and when you find me,

you must play my game.

 

I’m as elusive

as a dandelion seed

upon the wind.

and I’ll slip like quicksilver

from you’re hand.

 

but if you find me

and hold on,

I’ll prove to be,

your best friend.

 

I’m fragile,

so easily broken,

but I’m  a sacred bond

in any land.

 

If you use me  in earnest,

treat me with respect,

you can settle any dispute,

with a simple shake of your hand.

 

I’ll slip like quicksilver

from your hand.

I’m as elusive

as a dandelion seed

upon the wind,

but when you find me

and hold on,

I’ll prove to be,

your very best friend.

 

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I am Brother of the Wolf

I am brother of the wolf,

cousin of black bear,

father of otter,

son of wolverine.

 

I abide with beaver in his lodges,

make wet lands grow

from rippling streams.

 

I am everybody.

I am nobody.

 

I hunt with grey owl.

Feathered wings,

slice silent through midnight air,

beneath shimmering silver moon,

leaving fearsome shadows in our wake.

 

I am great snow goose,

honking my flock northward northward,

ever northward,

through star sprinkled night

to nesting grounds beside great salt bay.

 

I am red robin’s trill,

that stirs you from your slumber.

 

I am everyone.

I am no one.

 

I am jeweled lakes,

scintillating in summer sunrise,

mirroring morning sky softt

upon my purple deep.

 

I am flooding river,

raging, roaring,

gouging gorges

from bones of earth.

 

I am first forest,

towering forever green,

sheltering myriad life.

 

I am everywhere.

I am nowhere.

 

I am south wind.

whispering trees awake,

when last snowflake fades,

calling trillium,

calling violet,

calling lady slipper,

to cover hidden,

distant dells, with

radiant glory.

 

I am north wind.

rocking trees to their sleep,

when Manitou opens His treasure house,

fills iron grey sky,

feather white,

lanketing the earth with his rest.

 

I am everything. I am nothing.

 

I am brother of the wolf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Snowflake on Ramsey

A tiny water drop caught by natures capricious hand, and taken to places high, there to lie until touched by frosty breath, it finds a surreal death, and is forged into a crystalline lattice, pristine white.

Now feather light, and carried by a winter wind, it drifts through a dark stormy, cloudy sea, lands on white hatted waves, melting quick, it becomes what it used to be, a part of something greater than its self, a part of something forever free.

 

 

 

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Filed under A poem for the people, Literary

Listening

I paused
a while
to listen,
and watched
the world
go by.

Over the noise,
its endless
din,
I heard
a child’s
mournful cry.

It was
a sad,
an empty
weeping,
for love,
a crust
of bread.

Who
will tell
this forlorn
waif,
that hope,
that dreams
are
dead.

Too young,
too innocent,
too new in world,
to understand,
the cold
sad
reality,
of man’s
inhumanity
to man.

I paused
a while
to listen,
and watched
the world
go by.

Over the noise,
its endless
din,
I heard
a child’s
mournful cry.

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Filed under A poem for the people, human tragedy, Literary, Poem

Election 2012

Way down in the good old US of A
the love a man who wears cowboy boots.
They give him real high marks,
if he knows how to ride, rope, and shoot.

He doesn’t have to know his ABC’s.
He just needs to have a Texas drawl.
Women flush, grow weak in the knees,
when smiles, and says how you doing, you-all.

If you’ve been a western star,
and have your handprint in cement,
your name doesn’t have to be on the ballet
to be elected the next US president.

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Filed under A poem for the people, Poem