To acquire and retain dignity
you must have…
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To acquire and retain dignity
you must have…
The only difference between arrogance and ignorance,
is the spelling.
Kindness may be an option
but it’s a necessity
(if you are on the archives page, click on continue reading to see this poem in the correct format.)
I wonder where my chicken is?
I’d surely like to know.
Is she perched in the pear tree
or fly south with the crows?
Perhaps she’s snoozing in the barn
where it’s nice and dark.
Perhaps my dog Zeke ate her
and now she’s in Zeke’s bark.
I looked up on the roof for her
and in the neighbors yard.
I don’t know why finding lost chickens
can be so dog-gone hard!
It’s not like I don’t feed her
or fill her water tray.
I talk to her very nicely
almost every single day.
I asked my mom to help me
but she says it’s time for lunch,
and Iv’e got a sneaky suspicion
but it’s only just a hunch.
That I’ll be seeing my chicken shortly
and I wouldn’t want to be late,
for mom’s chicken cacciatore
is really pretty great.
(to see this poem in correct format, click on continue reading if you are on the archives page.)
You are today.
You want everything.
You never look back.
Unknown lives do not concern you.
You seek familiarity when it is convenient.
You believe that your soul is worthy of immortality.
Your vanity demonstrates your insecurity.
Your arrogance confirms your ignorance.
Nothing stands in your way.
I am tomorrow.
I am just waiting.
I see the past.
My eyes are filled with tears.
I treasure friendships even if it is difficult.
I hope God exists for righteousness sake.
I suffer because of my immodesty.
I acknowledge that I know nothing.
My path is arduous.
( to see poems in the correct format, click on “continue reading” if you are on the archives page.)
Astronauts from space
see the earth
and thin blue line of our atmosphere
and come to realize
just how beautiful, astounding, and fragile
it truly is.
With no borders or imaginary lines to divide us,
a marvelous multicolored life-giving celestial sphere
suspended in space,
a jewel like bauble
hanging on nothing, but the instructions of God.
And from that distance
it seems too wonderful, to be true.
This floating gem of an orb, reflecting it’s brilliance,
quietly shining in the darkness, like the stunning vision that it is.
If only we who live here
would feel the same.
(to view poetry in correct formatting, if you’re on the archives page, click on continue reading)
There is a sickness.
An all consuming one.
our treatment of the symptoms
is only that.
For our pride and presumptuousness
does not although the treatment, of the actual illness.
We pour out, untold fortunes
on medicated temporary mirages
hoping to conceal the inadequacies and indications,
and lacking the fortitude and integrity
(to see this or any of my poems in the correct formatting, click on continue reading, if you are on the archives page)
Only the guilty
know what it is to be innocent.
Only the condemned
know what it is to be saved.
Only the lonely and wretched
know what it is, to be comforted.
And only the contrite
know what it is, to be forgiven.
(to see text or any poem in the correct format, press continue reading if you are on the archives page)
I dreamed one night
I was soaring, on the breeze
tied to a slender string
high above, all the trees.
And the trees are tall
but the wind, rushes past
it lifts me above them
as long as, the wind lasts.
Like a kite in the sky
and the earth, down below
where did I come from
and where, would I go?
Would I fly too high
and would the string hold?
Am I too shy
or am I, too bold?
Did I hatch from an egg
or was I, born on a train?
Was I late for school
and should I cry, when it rains?
Does it really matter
if I have, all these thoughts?
Or are they somewhat different
from what, I was taught.
For fear is my restraint
and as fragile, as that might seem
I continue all my soaring
but only, in my dreams.
I look at things
a little different, than what I use to.
I suppose, most people do, but not all.
Now it seems, I’m not as close to things
as I use to be.
I’m somewhat, removed from the subject
with less attachment, less emotion
and hopefully, with less effort of question or worry.
For I’ve lived through tragedy.
I’ve lived through sorrow.
I’ve even lived through, not wanting to live.
And, I’m still here
watching, waiting, and just being, alive.
And the scenery, is about the same.
Perhaps, a little more convoluted,
a little more, controversial,
a little more, contentious.
I’ve stepped back from myself
to watch from a distance
and my view, is a little less, entangled,
for I find,
no matter how much, I disapprove of the big picture
getting any closer to it
just obscure, my overall