I recently decided to invert Mary Oliver’s divinatory poem, “Of the Empire.” With much sadness and utter despair in our world, lets not forget who’s empire we truly live in.
I recently decided to invert Mary Oliver’s divinatory poem, “Of the Empire.” With much sadness and utter despair in our world, lets not forget who’s empire we truly live in.
The mystery of God’s love that had been hidden through out eternity has no exhaustibility but entered our reality through Jesus; Emmanuel, God among us and for us This Jesus, he healed the lame he gave sight to the blind…
wind whipping wildly affecting the leaves of the trees like a crop against a mare’s hind lashing and impeding the beauty and origin of a leaf’s duty: to catch the rays Or wistfully whirling engaging the presence of a sinister…
“What if I were to say,”says the daisy to the sun, “that I will not bare my beauty to the world if you do not shine down upon me more often.” So says the sun to the mere daisy,”my…
This poem is a very hestitant post… out of utter respect for the families effected by this monstrosity of an event in time; I am sorry. Holocaust Lament Consumed by fire whole I burn, we burn Six million of God’s…
Seafarers depart from Camden Harbor hoisting weathered lines setting salty sails as church bells chime at the five o’clock hour the goings the comings of a busy day yachts demand dock dinghies dodging windjammers yet strangely serene happenings on the…
Clouds frozen in time a pocket watch waiting to be spun standing still suspended as if the four winds have ceased to blow The sun, playing hide n’ seek is winning right now by divine intervention or current stoppage “Come…
At the river’s edge while tentatively abiding in the mystery of the beauty while often distracted by the busyness of life that consumes us with its nonsense then realigned into the beauty of the mysteries of life allowing the sounds…
In the solitude of the wood the trees laugh at the newness of life springing up around them Yet they speak and whisper of the life of the past These trees ache and creek groan and moan with the purpose…
A glance not recognized Did you have the chance to change the circumstance An intake of breath Where does it bend in the living or the end A whisper ever-passing caught upon the breeze flowing through the trees then it…