Category Archives: Literary

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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Filed under A poem for the people, Literary, Literature

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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Filed under A poem for the people, Literary, Poem

Heads in the Sand

Tons of flotsam and jetsam, wending its way across the expanse of the Pacific Ocean have reached pristine Alaskan, and Canadian west coast shores, bearing unknown hazards, unknown risks, threatening to destroy fishing industries that have existed for decades , threatening the food supply, and the livelihood of first nations people, and whites alike.

Large buoys, small ones, buoys made from plastic, made from metal are flooding into inlets, washing up on sandy and rocky shores, and the worst of this rubbish, are the buoys made from Styrofoam, because small flakes falling off are ending up as dinner for the sea creatures at the lowest end of the food chain.

Without proper nutrition, they won’t have the strength to eluded larger predators, or have immune systems strong enough to fend off any disease this deluge of trash might carry with it, and in time, perhaps a short one, they’ll become extinct. This will have a catastrophic effect on the salmon, crabs, lobsters that depend on this food stock for survival, and in turn, it will deprive, whales, sharks, and even bears of sustenance.

It’s not as if this is an overnight phenomenon, because we’ve known about it since the tsunami washed over Japanese shores, smashing buildings, destroying villages, ripping fishing boats from their moorings, and dragging the resulting debris out to sea, as the contaminated waters receded.

To date, neither the American government, the Canadian government, or the Japanese government have come up with a policy or concrete plan to deal with this disaster, like all governments before them, it seems they’ve decided to play ostrich, stick their heads in the sand, or in some other place I won’t mention, and do nothing.

We the citizens of these three great countries have no reason to crow either, because we’ve sat idle on the sidelines, twittering away, playing our online games, texting meaningless messages, watching movies, indulging in other unimportant things, instead of protesting. Once upon a time people cared about the world around them, and made an effort to change things for the better. However, unfortunately for us and for the future it seems we’ve become nothing more than a self-serving, generation, intent on, bent on self-destruction.   It’s time for every one of us to pull our heads from the sand, or wherever else we’ve shoved them, and do something. At the very least we can write to our members of congress, write to our senators, write to our members of parliament, and let them know in no uncertain terms  how displeased we are with their inaction.

If a little brown-skinned man could free his country from the might of the British Empire,   without firing a shot, and a young black skinned preacher’s speeches ended segregation by peaceful means, just imagine how much we the people of three countries could change things, if for once we spoke out with one mind and one voice

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Filed under Article of Interest, essay, Literary, nature

Music Box Dreamer

Annie O’Quinn, still wrapped in the cocoon of a night full of sweet, delicious love making yawned and stretched in the big bed. She felt fingers of worry brush against her naked back when she realized her Tommy boy was not beside her. Her panic subsided when she saw his nude form standing near the window peering out through a blue lace curtain. She pushed the covers back, eased out of bed and made her way to him on tip toes.   Tommy didn’t move a muscle as two slender hands covered his grey eyes. He inched backwards until he could feel her rising nipples pressed against his skin.   She giggled, “Guess who,” as the heat from his body and his smell made her nipples grow hard.”   He rubbed fingers through the rough edges of his beard before answering, “Hmn, must be Mrs. O’Leary, the goat woman from down the road.”   A hand moved off of his right eye and a small pounded into his shoulder.   Her loud, “Are you saying I smell like a goat,” caused him to laugh so hard that tears ran down his cheeks. “That’s a fine thing to say to your new bride.”   Tommy turned then and warped his strong arms around her slender body, pressing every inch of the soft skin against him. He whispered, “You smell absolutely delicious, detachable and good enough to eat,” into her right ear. “I love you Annie my darling.”He stepped back a little and tilted her chin sky wards.   She pretended to pout for a moment before surrendering her soft lips to his hot passionate kisses.   Tears began to flow out of sapphire eyes.   He murmured, “What’s wrong my darling.”   She sobbed, “Everything, this damned war, you having to leave today and the thought I might lose you for good.”   Before he stepped away from Annie he put a happy look on his face, “Nothing to worry about darling, Mrs. O’Quinn didn’t raise any foolish children. I intended to dig my foxhole down to China and not peek over the edge until the war is over.”   She blubbered, “But you might get something important blown off. I suppose we could manage if it was only an arm or a leg.”   Loud male laughter bounced around the room and underneath the bottom of the door. “Perhaps I should ask my sergeant for two helmets, one for my head and one for all my important parts.”   Annie felt anger stirring again but when she looked at the grin on his face and saw the love light in his eyes it faded. A bright smile shone through her tears, “You know what I mean.”   He chuckled, “All too well my darling Annie. Chin up though, when I get to Paris, I’ll buy you a black silk negligee. It will be so shear that I can see through it.”   She hugged him tight and whispered, “Promise you won’t go to Paris because I want see us with you. I can picture us now walking along the banks of the Seine and listening to sidewalk troubadours sing love songs to us.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Do you know what I’d like to do right now.”   Tommy grinned, “Me too but I don’t think we have enough time for it.”   She slugged his right shoulder and laughed, “Not that silly, well that to but since we don’t have time I would settle for a dance. I wished we had music.”   The young soldier clapped a hand to his forehead, “In all the excitement of the wedding and last night I forgot about the present I bought you.”   She sniffed, “I feel bad now because I didn’t have time to get you anything.”   He looked into her eyes, “You gave me the best present in the world when you became my wife.” He grinned, “It was more thrilling undressing you last night than it ever was unwrapping a Christmas present. Tommy scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her to the bed. He said, “One two, three,” and then let her go.   She squealed in delight as she landed on the mattress and bounced.   The young man bent over and pulled out a parcel wrapped in gold paper and tied with a neat red bow.   Annie bounced up and down on the bed, “What is it, what is it?” Two slender hands tore the paper off, two eyes opened wide when she saw the beautiful antique music box.” She gave her beloved Tommy a warm, tender smile and pulled his head down for a long, fiery kiss.   Two little marble figurines dressed in wedding clothe popped up when the carved lid, inlaid with gold was lifted. A tanned, trembling hand wound the key of the box.”   Two happy young people held each other tight and danced as the beautiful strains of the Vienna waltz filled the hotel bedroom.   ****   “Will you be a dear and get the door Bertha,” Annie opened the kitchen range door to inspect the pair of apple pies. By now they were a golden brown and filling every inch of the cosy apartment with the fragrance of apples, cinnamon and melted sugar. She folded the white dish cloth in two before lifting one done to perfection pie out of the hot oven.   Bertha shouted, “Right away, sister dear,” and turned the big radio down a notch before racing to the door.   Just as the last pie was set to cool Bertha’s voice come floating to her over the voice of Bing Crosby’s crooning. “It’s for you Annie.”   Annie shouted, “Tell whoever it is to hold their horses and that I’ll be there in a minute. The instant her sapphire settled on the two officers standing in her door way she knew why they were here. Her hart that had been so happy a just moment ago dropped into her feet. Her faced turned whiter than a new washed sheet. It felt to her like her life was being drained from her as her eyes filled with tears.   The tall soldier with captain’s bars on his collar was the first to speak, “I’m sorry to have to tell you but your husband corporal was killed two days ago at Dunkirk. The beach was strafed by a dozen German fighters. Your husband was seriously wounded when he left his shelter to help another soldier. He shielded his sergeant with his body and saved the man’s life. I have his Victoria Cross for you and a letter that was found in his pocket. Since there were no military secrets in it we felt it wasn’t necessary to censor it. He was a brave man and you should be very proud of him, his country and his fellow soldiers certainly are.”   The two soldiers turned sharply on their heels and marched away.   Annie tried to open the envelope but her hands were shaking too much. Without saying a word she handed it to her sister.   Bertha’s hands were shaking almost as bad as Annie’s were but she finally managed to remove the blood stained sheet of paper. In a voice that trembled and through her tears she began to read. “My darling dearest Annie:   Well my beautiful, sexy angel, it looks like this war is going to be a bit longer than anyone expected. These German soldiers are a tough lot and not about to give up without one hell of a fight. Please excuse the language my dear little sister if you happen to be there when Annie gets my letter.   Right now I’m enjoying a nice vacation on the beach of Dunkirk waiting for a boat to take us to England. Like as not I’ll be having tea and crumpets, whatever they are with the King and Queen by the time you get this.   Through all of this mess, the guns, the bombs, the blood and the death I have the memory of our two nights together to keep me sane and safe. I can still taste your wine sweet kisses on my lips. I can still feel the soft silk of your beautiful legs wrapped around me. I can still hear your sweet voice moan in passion as we surrendered too wondrous rapture.   Sorry my darling but I’ve got to go now, some enemy planes are circling over head, looking for some dumb bunny to stick there neck out. Well it isn’t going to be me. I’m going to climb back into my foxhole to China until these birds go back to their nest. I kept my promise love of my life, I never went to Paris   I send all my love, my heart and a million kisses.   Forever yours, your Tommy boy.   ****    The old, rickety rocking chair squeaked back and forth, back and forth. Each forward movement was less than the last one. Each backward movement was less than the last one. At last it came to a stop.   The little dancers on top of the old music slowed down as the last strains of the Vienna Waltz faded into cracks of the room. The only movement now was that of a tattered curtain blowing in the wind coming around the edges of the window. The only sound was of heavy raindrops pounding on the glass.   If there had been anyone left in that dank, dingy room to see anything they would have noticed that the large picture had changed. The images were no longer those of a woman in a wedding dress and a young soldier in uniform. It was the same two people but now the young woman wore a just below the knee, blue summer dress. Long, golden tresses flowed around her angel face in the soft summer breeze. The young man’s brown shirt had the first two top buttons undone. The tail was tucked into the top of a pair of blue jeans.   On the left of the happy couple the River Seine gurgled in its bed. Behind them and silhouetted the Eifel Tower stood straight and tall.   The young man had his right arm around the blonde haired girl and he held a bottle of wine in his left. She had a loaf of crusty French bread tucked under her left arm. A slender right hand rested on the slight mound of her belly. A belly that was growing closer to fruition with each passing day.

the end

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Music Box Dreamer

Bertie wasn’t given a moment to put his two cents into the conversation, “Nonsense, stuff and Nonsense. The two of you will have plenty of time for your gadding about town after your married. “You don’t mind do you Bertie.” Her voice was sweeter than sugar cane but the look she gave the young man froze him to his chair.   Poor, poor Bertie was tongue tied, “A mumbled “No,” and a stuttered, “Of course not mother Foster,” stumble out of his wide open mouth. He gulped, “I mean Mrs. Foster.”   Her look softened and the next flock of daggers coming out of here cold brown eyes were stopped before they left. “I didn’t think so,” she started to turn her gaze back to Annie. Before she reached her next target she added, “And Bertie you may call me mother Foster.” She took a deep breath and added a loud, “For now,” that set his knees knocking together like drumsticks. “Now Annie, run along and get ready. It’s our duty to see that the young soldiers have a good time before they go off to war.”   Annie gave her fiancée another cold stare, “Traitor, you’re supposed to be on my side.”   A little color drained back into Bertie’s pallid face and the many knots in his belly started to unwind. “I am on your side dear but your mother’s right. Why just think about those poor, poor boys going off to die for king and country. If it wasn’t for my flat feet I’d be marching right along beside them.”   Bertha mumbled, “More like your fat head and your father’s bank account that’s keeping you home.”   Bertha Foster fixed her icy stare on her youngest child, “If you’re going to say something Bertha, say it loud enough for all of us to hear. Now what’s on that mind of yours child?”   A low, “Nothing mummy,” came out of the girls mouth.   “I thought not,” she focused her brown eyes on her next victim. “Now run along Annie and put on your nicest dress, the red one.”   Annie didn’t feel quite ready to give into her mother’s demands. Instead of answering she walked over to her father. “Daddy, tell mother that I don’t have to go to that stupid dance.”   A loud, “Alexander, stay out of this,” came rushing across the room.”   Foster looked up into his pride and joy’s pouting face, “Now Annie, be a good girl and do as your mother says.”   “But daddy.”

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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