Choosing The Ambulance

Unknown hearts
extend their hands…
to offer
this injured help up.
What do these heroes think
when I pull back,
only accepting the familiar?
Curious I am
of those who
do not wait
for an invitation
in the midst of an emergency…
can they feel my pain?
And out of their strength
give me a fraction
of a portion?
Why am I selective
on where I draw
support ?

Commanding Of The Wind

An opaque shell
protects small life
within a downy nest
and brier.
Inside the egg
the life takes shape,
observing the eagle’s
majestic silhouette soaring
before the sun.
No timer sounds…
a crack appears…
the beak struggles through.
What worm dangles before …
encouraging to press through?
And when the pieces scatter
around the prickly bed…
is it the scent of feathers,
perhaps a gentle nudge ,
or the screeching from afar
that pulls bird
down through gravity,
daring to defy?
Wear your crown,
O Baby Bald!!
You are Royalty
the moment conceived!
The winds will be strong
and predators fierce;
But an eagle’s shadow
is not a mouse.

Art Gallery

Our Maker was here
before we were
painting the earth with love.
When did His canvas
begin to crack –
pooling its oil …
destroying the picture ?
Our Creator breathed
before we…
Swirling pigment
into existence .
How can color separate,
attempting to destroy
the Rainbow?
What picture
are we sending
by trying
to control the brush,
when masterpieces
build every fiber
of our entire canvas?

Music Of The Journey

( encouraged by a dear friend to write )

This Creative artist
loves classical music;
Compassion is the media
with which I work.
Yet distorted footprints
are sapping my Joy .
Where did you come from
you vicious beast?
Randomly clawing my brain
….Distorting my treble clef…
Dropping me
to an immobilizing state
for days,
Leaving books unread,
Pictures unfinished,
Music flat;
Feeling like I’m losing control.
Few know who you are…
have felt
the outline of your form.
The pain you inflict
lasts only seconds…
A skip on a record;
Pressing your print
firm in my brow;
Driving your claw
deep into sporadic
spots through my artists tarp.
Were you my fathers pet,
Haunting his mind…
Imprisoning him in seizures ?
But you were captured
with a pill. …
Clamped into submission.
You are not allowed here !
Will you dissolve
in the water
I use to paint?
Or retreat
through restful lullaby
of vintage violin?
Your wanderings
have been noted!
No longer
will you hide
in the shadows
of who I am,
nor change the direction
of which I am headed!
With the map I’ve been given,
I shall follow the Captain
across pioneered trails
to where crescendos tickle
and harmonies tease
at a Gallery of Masterpieces.

Touchdown!!!

Pigskin rests
for a season….
after tiny eyes
watch the Game’s end;
learning how
to play in life –
win or lose,
our response is
the homework we send.
Make sure
the strategy’s tight,
knowing each play
in the Guide….
to show our children
to enjoy life;
instructing them
when to hide.
No, it’s not after being
mowed on the field;
when we may not
have scored points at all.
See that’s the time
to begin to get tough:
Growl in the face of defeat,
hold your head high
and stand tall.
See the time
to run away and rest
is when you know the plan…
so you can
come back to the field
of Life and say
this is where I will stand!

Taking Flight

This bird’s about to fly;
Test my wings and soar.
Lord, may I pass this test…
Not end up on the floor.
Hold my head up high
As I fight through storms today;
Help me use my wings
God I trust You today.

Defining Topography

Fingerprints
are a map…
Patterns
that never repeat,
But follow
where they are led.
Which way
to become?
Left or right?
Only one path
to find
the fingerprints
of being.
See you there!

From Where The Night Ends

What form of light
would you use
to illuminate a room ?
Why turn on a lamp?
When will you
ignite the flame?
How will you
keep the candle glowing ?
Who will you
pass the torch to?

The Hunt Is On

Never a trophy
on a wall;
Your leather
is a tent
blanketing me,
never resting
from life’s elements..
Each muscle –
a hearty stew –
Forever sustains.
I’ve stretched you
so thin
for my own gain;
Each sacrifice
(Your soul for soles,
organs for elements,
Blood for our mistakes)
reminds me
of my shortcomings;
how I might be
more like you.
The animal within
now tamed
through Victory –
Do you long to hunt ?

Menagerie Of Manuscript

Excitement consumes me
as I enter with curiosity
flitting about.
Wonder awaits me
in the foyer,
ready to guide me
through each room.
The title of each piece
is announced,
in bold letters.
Picking up each masterpiece,
I’m drawn in;
The eyes catch me first,
revealing what is seen;
My heart is embraced….
I hear the words …
Faithful or not
to the artists plan;
They drop me
to the floor
to sew them into my life..
As soon as I do
I am lifted high
upon the shoulders
of encouragement.
But no…
I am not afraid of this height .
Peace has blanketed me-
buckling me in for the journey.
These eyes catch me again,
beckoning me to stay…
I press firm,
leaving my fingerprint
as many others…
and wander
to the next picture,
forgetting about time.