I have grown old, but I never intended to for I was beautiful and exciting,
My eyes were deeply perceptive and could discern the soul of man.
My shapely form inspired many with moments of fantasy when we we were alone. I remember the moments of pleasure, of sadness, of joy, of tears as we embraced each other with our past and future vision of the morrow.
I stood proud and elegant when the cool breezes caressed my dark beauty, never to reveal hidden secrets that I alone could share.
I will be beautiful forever for portraits and paintings will stir mans heart with creativity, wonderment and lust for the future. I who was so graceful, grand and proud wrapped my arms around you and whispered "my love belongs to you."
For those who know me, PLEASE forget not my name, for my beauty must never be forgotten nor destroyed in shame....................
MY NAME: CARLSBAD CAVERN
ARE YOU THERE
Where did the seed of a tender heart get strewn along the way...........beat down, stomped upon, along the road it lay.
Where is that special someone; a healer to give it care? It just lies there dying, parched, forsaken, bare!
Won't someone stop and bend their knee and grasp itto their breast, caress and nourish it in love,
and put it's soul to rest.
CREATION
When explosions in space began the evolution of time, it was God's hand that made it and loaned it to mankind.
I shall sleep with untoubled rest, for I know that God is all around; if I wake my life I'll share, but should I die, He'll take me there...................
GODS NAME: SECURITY
It is when I need refreshing that I go to the garden where God is always found and seek that which is within me; for it is there that I may grow! I can lie and listen to the stars, but when the clouds roll in I know there shall be another glow of night. When I am afraid I am nurtured by the living that surrounds me; the healing from the flowers, a clear pond, surrounding arms of a tree. Yes, God led me here so that I may always speak with HIM in the garden of my home............
I planted a flower garden all alone in the backyard of my home. Each seed for someone loved and who'd gone home to God. I LOST MY SONG!
But kneeling down with saddened heart, the Lord came by with mastered art and touched each petal with tender love, brought peace to soul. RESTORED MY SONG!
I like to take a stroll at night for when we're all alone, I feel your presence and see your face everywhere at home. And when I look into the sky and see the misty show, I also see the face of stars; we share a secret; they helpd to BRING MY SONG!
Written for a friend who lived his hell as a Navy Seal in Vietnam......
INSIGHT
I'm good, I'm evil ________ I play a game, lurking in the crevice
My brain scans the abyss. Where's the light,
There's only night!
Black is for hunting, mans the game, dark mists of hell
Blood, sulpher, I smell. Why did they die,
I lie !
A cryptograph, the story ___________ it's in my chest!
Locked for life, my nightmare's strife,
It doesn't blend, life's at end !
Forever I pay pentinence _________ for my guilt
Deep in the crevice, I hang onto the abyss
I see the light, but I must hide in the night !
Someone else may see the good ___________they know
I fear happiness, I lie motionless
It doesn't blend, start again !
W A I T........................................
My shadow of pain, I must control, it's my game !
Where is the crevice, as I live in the abyss
For I am exposed, as I lie in repose !
Oh black beauty of death ____________it's not the game
I'm exposed to the light, gone is the night
Someone see's the goodness in me !
Impotence of youth ___________ the pain, the game
Free from my grasp, my lifes in the past
Where do I go, how do I know ?
Chances, second chances _________ is that in the game
A different soul, completely whole
I'll try, I'll try !
Goodbye my spectre and license of death _______ it's not my game
I won't need to hide, because I've tried
And all will see the goodness in me !
Written during an attack of Multiple Sclerosis...........
THE CHEATED RAPIST
From whence comes this frigid air that entereth into my room, and creepeth up so silently with chill and smell of dankness, it engulfs me like a tomb....
Ah! how crafty this demon is as it tries to draw my breath.
With subtlety it seeks my life, to conquer, to win my soul in death.
Why dos't it find me so desirable that it hath set me apart,
To destroy so cunningly . To stretch its icy tentacles of lust And cease the beating of my heart.
Now it hath embraced me as helplessly I fight,
To free myself of its clutches. Oh God! Where has't thou gone in my peril, as I lie in darkness of night.
I cans't not let thee sate thy pleasure upon my unwilling form, and plant thy seed within me; to writhe upon my body and release thy impassioned storm.
I does't not desire this beast whose lips caress my chest,
While he tries to inflame me. Who in the throe of lust whispers, "come to me for rest."
I shall not be ravished in this manner, he wils't not take my breath. For I grow stronger. Ah, at last the arms that bound are broken, and I have conquered death.
Since that day I have lived thirty nine years........
I saw the morning sun upon the leaves...................
I felt God's presence in the breeze
His spirit wending through the trees
This land on which I stand is HIS !
A stream which offers forth its alms....................
A weary travelers thirst to calm
A shade in which to rest
This land on which he stands is HIS !
HIS arms a shield in midst of storm........................
A light upon a darkened form
Who turns the bleakness of the storm
This land on which we stand is HIS !
The majestic climb of mountains to the sky,
The purple hue as evening draws nigh
The end of day must come to all
This form in which we lived was HIS !
HIS LAND
MR KIPPLING
Amidst the swirling patterns of sand, a proud but aged figure stands alone, fighting for self preservation. He seems to cry out; "look at me, search deep into my heart for I have much to tell."
Was it only yesterday that this now barren form heard the plea of voices crying in the distance; "if we can only make it to Mr Kipling everything will be all right." It made no difference if the visitor was suffering from the intense Arizona sun or had been caught by the ravaging forces of a flashflood, the cry was just the same; "if only I can make it to Mr Kipling."
But Mr Kipling was now a hundred years old and considered to be of no use. No one seemed to know just how this name had originated or for that matter how he had come into being. But so many tales were conceived and since they were all so diversified no one put much stock in any of them. The main thing of importance had been that there was a Mr Kipling and it mattered not that he appeared to have no mother or father to boast of. Why I reckon he had more experiences to relate than most people in history. His name should have been prominent in the Hall of fame, because he had done just about as much as anyone to lend a helping hand and those in distress. A citizen that all admired!
Many was the time when roving travelers had stopped to accept his hospitality and to escape from the battles between the Indians and the white settlers, but he had not acquired the cabious disease of prejudiceness. It mattered not to him the color of the skin, nor the creed of his religion. He had been put here for a purpose and it ws to serve mankind. But this wasn't by any means his only good deeds; many lost who wended their way to him, had been able to find direction. He had even been there to lend a hand to stray and sun parched animal. yes, he had protected many forms of life, even as it gave forth new birth. Even the simple little sparrow used to come by singing, happy just to see Mr Kipling.
Why then could he be so completely forgotten in his time of need? True, many of tose he had helped had already gone on to meet their maker, while still others had simply disappeared; but what of the others who had subsisted on his offerings? It seems the only visitors of late had been the faithful little sparrows aand perhaps an owl or two. Once in awhile a lonely little jack rabbit would hop by, but soon fritter away.
Now about the only voice to be heard was belonged to a mournful coyote, seeking a mate or morsel of food. Very few people ever passed his way anymore now that highway sixty-six had been decimated. Now, he would die in solitude. Each crack of the wind cast his body a little closer to his doom and Mr Kippling would soon die. His worn and weary frame had become so stooped that no surgery could restore the ravages of time. He knew there was no physical help to avail him. But how he longed for just a kind voice to say; "thank you, you will always live in my heart."
Somehow I believe he can read my mind over the miles as I tune my thoughts. I am concentrating so hard, trying to tell him how much he has meant to me; that I am praying he will go to his final resting place amidst the peace and tranquility that he offered so many. "Oh, please grant me this one wish that he might hear my voice crying out to him in this hour. "I love you Mr Kippling, you were the most beautiful, most comforting one I ever met." "You, a simple barn, that came to mean so much to so many."
Silly, silly little rain, it splatters, scatters down the drain;
Washes all the dirt away, then goes and comes another day.
Sleep, sleep just a little more,
tell no others that I snore,
For old ones play in yesterday, where they are young, joyous, gay!
The child lay silentl, fearful and chills covered its little form.............
Suddenly there comes black and acrid smoke, blasts of horror, palls of gloom; For there is the sirens in the night, warning, warning, here is the fight!
Little baby, we're so sad that you were brought into thus, we cared, we dared to try and spare, The peril of your land; but then, you had a bad man who tried to steal your soul, We are here to rescue, to free and make you whole!
Please little baby, you must hold on for we are near, we care, we want to bring the glory of the land you once had, before the day of the man so bad, our soldiers cry at night for they are aware of your plight; hold on baby, our
soldiers are in sight...........
Let not the choking of the smoke smother your hopes for morrow,
For our men will win, come take you in, to safety of your new born land where the sound of nature will sing again.
Angels hold the child, shells and bombs about, let not a cry of sorrow spill
But assure safety cometh still, Come bright morning the sun with moisture sweet to refurbish all the land; to cleanse the air of the mad man!
Oh, little children I hope you know of the sacrifice t'was made; how brave the might of the soldiers of Right came and died in your ravaged land. We stayed and fought the man of sin when to your land he came.
Our land lives on and honors those who safely brought you out, to start anew your future, without fear And gloomy doubt. Remember there is good and evil in each land, but don't forget the broken man who extended you his hand.
and freed you of the mad man!
Europe WWll
Is anything so beautiful as the flowered rose; who wafts a breeze of fragrance as it bravely grows,
Its birth is treasured whence we see it spring, to flourish into fullness with graceful outswept wings.
A Mothers Prayer
Please God grant on this thy day, an angels voice to sing a song of heaven,
for my child to hear.
Let the sun come forth and bring warmth and blessings, a special touch
for my child to share.
May life bring peace amidst the darkened times, a touch from thee
for my child to hear,
May the light of night bring inspiration and hope, your presence
for my child to share.
Lord I ask these favors, for I'll love him so
through out the passing years
I'll do my best to guide and lead
so songs surround his way
for my child to hear,
and he will share.
Now as I wander in troubling times
show me the way and place my steps
upon the enlightened path.
I pray He knows my passioned plea and
makes my child to hear,
so that he will share
The first rose of a springtime day
Brings inspiration from memories.......
Of a first love
A lost love
A true love
The touch of a baby
The smell of fresh rain
The breath of nature
Young dreams
Youthful discovery
Childhood faith
Dear Lord, let me not grow too old
To savor the rose
To protect the baby
To have compassion
For my fellow man......................
Why is the beauty of youth often wasted on frivolity, yet the Wrinkles of age often lend sagaciousness?
Is it experience or was it what was always enfolded
Amidst the swirling patterns of sand, a proud but aged figure stands alone, fighting for self preservation. He seems to cry out; "look at me, search deep into my heart for I have much to tell."
