On Family Love

On Family Love

On family love one might say,

There is a bond ne'er goes away.

This love is deep; few can explain

Its nature true, like falling rain. 

The ties that bind, one may not see,

But deep at heart, reality.

Family, part of God's own plan,

Is meant to be and thus it can. 

Time and space never go away,

Like families that ever stay

The heart of real humanity.

True to each other, they will be,

Beyond the conflict that marks life;

A family can end its strife;

The joy of one another know,

As peace and comfort overflow

And spread to others, who then see

That mankind is one family.

A family with love that's true,

Will always know just what to do.

Repair the rifts and mend the tears;

Find joy in climbing heaven's stairs,

While living a life good and pure,

In God's true blessings, rest secure.

The family of man knows love

When there is peace with God above.   

The Nature of a 'Tag-Along'

The Nature of a 'Tag-Along'

'Tag-Along',

The name oft accorded to fame and fortune seekers

Trying hard to latch onto others,

For the sole purpose of personal fame or fortune.

A 'Tag-Along' 

Hopelessly struggles knowing

He cannot make it alone,

At least not on his own merit;

He lands on a precarious perch, at best.

Perhaps, when sufficiently latched onto 

The well-deserved merit of others,

A shadow of pseudo-fame and fortune

Appears momentarily to him.

He thinks it is real.

The 'Tag-Along',

Not a natural born leader, 

Just another follower

Likely being mentored, 

Knowingly or unknowingly.

Jumping out of the shadows 

Into the limelight,

He appears momentarily

On the horizon of history,

Seeking validation and accreditation

That he has not earned

And does not deserve.

A 'Tag-Along',

Simply playing God; 

Man mimicking the divine, 

Claiming credit in the name of self. 

Humility,

An unknown word to him,

Beyond his comprehension or understanding;

Learned only by tumbling 

Into reality's deep chasm of deepest darkness,

Where ultimate humiliation

Leads to human breaking

That brings him to a position of awareness,

On knees that touch earth's finite realm,

As he gazes upward to the heavens.

A 'Tag-Along' 

Moving towards infinity's realm,

Eternity, his ultimate destination,

Beyond mere fame and fortune,

(Such senseless pursuits by man

In search of his true human nature).

The Frog on the Log

The Frog on the Log

The frog on the log:

"I created this world!"

The eagle in the sky:

"I brought everything below into being!"

The child on the beach:

"Everyone, look at what I made!"

The man who sees himself in control of whatever:

"I take the credit for everything!"

The king on the throne:

"I alone built this worldly kingdom!"

God in Heaven:

"I love you all."

On Fragmentation

On Fragmentation

Fragmented sentences

Chopped into chunks

Like pieces of firewood, 

Drying, waiting for a fire

To be lit beneath them,

In some humble hearth 

Resembling humanity,

That they may be consumed

And rendered as timeless ashes,

To fulfill their ultimate destiny.

Fragmented voices

Devoid of comfort,

Relentlessly crying out

In the void of wilderness;

Bits and bytes, 

Mere words,

Uttered in broken sentences;

Fragmented phrases 

Lying in wait 

To be twittered

Around the world;

A fractured plea for sanity

In a world that seems insane,

At least to some.

For others, a plea for love.  

Fragmented lives,

Resembling the dark emptiness 

Of hollow logs

Where green frogs hide;

Dead logs rotting in a dank swamp,

With no one to reclaim them

Before the mist and mold of time

Render them useless

For anything but compost,

To re-enrich the suffering environment.

The cure for fragmentation,

Love that is whole,

Able to mend

The rips and tears 

Of a fragmented world;

Restructuring of fragmented sentences,

Assisting those 

Whose desperate voices

Persist in crying for help;

Repairing lives of humankind, 

Ones smothered by hopelessness;

Love, as healing for fragmentation,

Gradually restoring hope;

Love's supreme power at work,

Tweeted around the world

In mere bits and bytes.

The Fragility of LIfe

The Fragility of Life

Two happy hearts

Entwined by perfect love

Come crashing to the ground,

Without a sound;

Who really cares?

A perfect rosebud

Nipped by an early frost

Curls its petals in pain;

Soon it is gone.

No one misses it.

A wonderful world

A childlike fun and frolic

Suddenly destroyed

By senseless tragedy;

Unresolved by others.

A lovely, peaceful home

Enjoyed by all

Erupts into total havoc

For no apparent reason.

Who can restore it?

A world of hope

Where life is sweet

Destroyed by hopelessness

And utter defeat;

Like broken crystal.

The frailty of humankind;

At best, man is vulnerable,

Subjected to the rigors,

The tests of time

And the fragility of life. 

A Winter Day

A Winter Day

Huge snowflakes swirling ev'ry way;

See the joy of children at play,

Building a snowman, one so tall,

With a second one that is small.

A third one too, a family;

Coal for eyes so that they can see.

Carrot noses planted way in deep;

Smiles to show they are not asleep.

An old top hat sitting awry,

"Give him a pipe!" some children cry.  

A scarf, a second and a third.

"Hear the twittering of that bird?"

A snow day with children aglow;

Time to make angels in the snow.

Maybe build a fort in snow banks;

Not too cold so, "Weatherman, thanks."

Skis and toboggans coming out;

"Down the hill!" Hear the children shout.

"Let's try skating now, on the pond!"

Ice not ready yet; Jack Frost wand

Painting windows. "It's turning cold!"

More white snowflakes. "Mittens!" we're told.

Time to shovel, drifts piling high,  

Sun now hiding, dark clouds fly by.

Time for cookies, hot chocolate too;

Play indoors, that's what children do.

A winter day; "We love that snow!

Even the howling winds that blow."

Nuggets of Gold

Nuggets of Gold

Nuggets of gold,

Priceless treasures beyond refute;

Uncountable,

Yet numbered in the thousands;

New truths suddenly unveiled;

Exciting revelation for humankind.

Old, yet new knowledge,

Unexpectedly disclosed in every era.

A world of discovery,

Some truths so obvious,

As to be immediately evident;

Precious beyond compare,

Timeless in nature, virtually priceless;

Truths miraculously revealed

After lying hidden, masked by mere words

In deep, dark worlds, for centuries.

Inspirational works,

Words carefully penned by literary artists,

Whenever, however. 

The genius of man expounded 

And expanded upon throughout the ages.

The human quest, to find the gold nuggets.

What lies at the heart 

Of the quest for these gold nuggets?

Love. 

The Words of Man

The Words of Man

The words of man 

Oft drag his fellowman downward,

Forcing him into 

The whirlwinds of time,

The tornado of life,

The eye of the hurricane, 

Where he finds pseudo peace.

Here, he thinks he can rest

Only to find that he is tossed back out;

Man tumbles to the ground.

The earth quakes;

Man shakes in fear

Knowing his demise is near.

He calls out to God.

Suddenly, from within the depths of his being,

He hears the words,

"Do not fear."

He finds inner peace

Beyond the tests, trials and torments of time,

Beyond whirlwinds, 

Tornadoes and hurricanes.

He knows that he is 

Beyond the will and wiles of fellow man

And becomes one who conveys

The word of God's love to others.

"Do not fear."

The words of man are imperfect;

The words of God are perfect.

He knows God's love is sufficient

And that His word of love is true.

The word of God is eternal,

As is His love for man.  

How Rich We Are In Blessings

How Rich We Are In Blessings

How rich we are in blessings, 

Yes, rich and so blessed we are,

Each time we see a rainbow,

Or gaze at a shooting star.

The wonder of each moment

Shows us there's eternal love,

Empowering creation;

True blessings from God above.

The purity of spirit,

Perception of life that's true,

The mystery of wisdom,

Showing us what to pursue.

A higher set of values,

The truth in all that is found,

Complexity of feelings,

Joy that will ever abound.

Fragility of beauty

Subject to God's own commands,

Majesty of each moment;

The silence of sinking sands.

Wherever we find blessings 

And how we see them each day,

Part of divine creation;

We are rich in ev'ry way.

What is Mischievous Love?

What is Mischievous Love?

What is mischievous love?

A prankster, it would seem,

Is e'er thwarting someone

With a mischievous scheme.
The mischief that's revealed

Is something done in fun

To one the prankster loves,

Or strangers, just for fun.
A twinkle in his eye

Often gives him away;

Perhaps his deeds or words,

Thus, something he might say.
Harmless mischievous love,

(Or intended to be),

If somehow turns awry, 

Can end in tragedy.
Mischievous love of old

Found often on a shelf,

Regarded as mere play,

By an imp or an elf.

At times, it's Cupid's love

That pierces to the heart,

So deep that in some way

Turns this love into art. 

On Defining Love

On Defining Love

On defining love, it could be said

Trying to define it could be read

As an attempt at futility,

As some know what others cannot see.

"There's no such thing as love," some might say.

"What love is, may change from day to day."

Purity of love oft deemed divine;

"God is love," the focus, I call mine. 

In the scope of love lies freedom true,

Perception of love each can pursue.

How we define love would seem to lie

Within the realm of time that does fly.

Ev'ry era re-defines its love;

Some seem the same and fit like a glove;

Others differ in some unique way.

Perhaps that has to do with word play?  

The most important thing, it would seem;

Love is not regarded as a dream,

Or fantasy of some kind, not real.

Love bears within, the power to heal. 

So magnify love, as you define

The word called love, with a pen or line.

Show your love to others in some way;

Love as you know it, or can display.

The power of love will never fail,

Regardless of its era or tale. 

Definitions are just words we use.

Love is the response we rightly choose. 

On the Love of Laughter

On the Love of Laughter

Laughter may be regarded as

A genetic disturbance,

One that is highly irregular

And likely contagious,

But everyone loves it;

(Well, maybe not everyone

If the truth be known).

Laughter comes in various shades of gray,

From the height and joy of purest white

Complete with its full spectrum of color,

To the depths and despair of darkest black,

The total absence of color.

Laughter is the least appropriate

Of all the human responses to life;

Also one of the most appropriate;

(Appropriateness is also a major factor

Discerned in the gamut of existence

Between the two.)

Laughter is the worst way

Humans can react to their circumstances,

(Oft way beyond their ken),

But at times, many times to be exact,

Simply the best and wisest way to respond.

"Do not participate in this laughter!"

Some might say.

"Why not join the laughing crowd?"

Others ask with consternation.

"Don't laugh!"

"Laugh."

"No! I cannot laugh."

The halls of laughter forever silenced,

Life could be better,

(Or would it be?)

Perhaps life could be far worse;

(Compare a yacht to a hearse.)

Laughter suppressed

Results in silly giggles;

In excess,

Laughter becomes

Frolicking or rollicking.

No one likes to see a child laugh;

Everyone loves it.

A child's laughter is akin

To music in a mother's ear.

Unwarranted laughter

Signals ridicule, contempt;

Belly laughs,

Often despised or enjoyed by man,

Inwardly or outwardly;

He too may laugh at his own folly,

Or that of others.

God laughs.

"Laughter is power!"

The ability to laugh,

A blessing in disguise,

Often resulting in tears.

Laughter has the power and potency

To increase man's fears,

Or decrease them.

Everyone loves laughter,

(Well, maybe not everyone),

But hates being laughed at by others.

What is there

In the nature of this genetic disturbance

That makes laughter so repulsive,

Yet appealing and revealing?

The genes of laughter,

Who wants to inherit them?

Everyone who loves laughter,

(Not those who don't).

The love of laughter

Is a good contagion

To share or catch.

Laughter genes

Are the kind each one should inherit;

They hold hold some of the keys

To the balance between sanity and insanity

In man's human nature.

The fear of laughter,

Merely another phobia;

The joy of laughter,

Experienced as

Part of the birthing of humankind;  

The love of laughter,

Innate in man.

Nonsense poetry,

Intended to instigate

More of man's laughter.

"Don't laugh!"

"This is serious business." 

A Flurry of Peace

A Flurry of Peace

A flurry of peace prevails

Marking the end to holiday madness;

What new joy is found

To be masking man's sadness?

People estranged, 

Lives re-arranged,

As if something already different

Could possibly be changed.

Fiscal cliff fear,

Constitutional indifference

With slippery slope sliding;

Sanity abiding.

Love that is love,

Perhaps pseudo love,

Or somewhere in between,

Somehow touching each tragic scene.

The frailty of the human dilemma,

Human lives scarred by war;

Internal, external strife,

The beginning and end of man's star.

The reality of death, 

Hidden yet exposed,

Poverty and illness; man stays composed;

In the depth of darkest night, stillness.

The awakening of a new dawn 

With a flurry of peace

Beyond mere gladness, sadness and madness;

The bursting of new light. 

Ever the eternal glimmer of hope

Where hopelessness

Hidden by insanity had prevailed,

But that ship has sailed.

A snowflake swirls, twirls 

And gently touches the ground;

The flurry of peace 

Turns to a full-fledged storm.

Peace prevails

Or so it seems,

Or is that just someone's desire,

Perchance everyone's dream?     

The Love of Nature

The Love of Nature

The love of nature magnified each day,

The beauty of nature in full array;

Majestic mountains towering so high,

The depths of the ocean, height of the sky;

Perfection of a snow flake swirling round,

The courage of a new seed bursting ground;

Miracles of nature, the honey bee,

The gracefulness of minnows swimming free;

Sweet mystery of tadpoles, croaking frogs,

Colors of the rainbow high above bogs;

The love of nature e'er exemplified,

Vastness of the universe, changing tide;

Simplicity of music in a breeze,

The artistry of Jack Frost, e'er a tease;

Mystery of a new dawn, rising sun,   

The changing of the sky when day is done;

The birthing of a new fawn to a doe,

The grace of falling leaves, the autumn glow;

Serenity of water, foam on waves,

Horizons of beauty; nature that enslaves;

The love of nature, so much one can see

Infinite wisdom, pow'r and majesty.  

Bones of Contention

Bones of Contention

Some love bones of contention;

Others prefer to hate.

Some chew on bones of contention;

Others simply bury them.

What is there to love?

What is there to hate?

With bones of contention,

It is often too late. 

Indifference, 

Their ultimate fate.

To thrive on bones of contention

Could mean to rant and rave;

To ignore bones of contention

May signify a grave.

A bone of contention to pick

Might mean a stew or two;

A bone of contention to grind

Might be in the way that you chew.

Dry bones, brittle bones,

Old bones, fresh bones,

The bones of time unearthed,

Oft shelved in archaeological fashion;

Deciphering old bones,

The focus of one's passion.

Are you content with contention?

There's always fresh bones on the horizon,

To pick to chew on or to bury

For those who love bones of contention.  

On Jealous Love

On Jealous Love

Is jealous love still love?

One might suggest that 

The nature of love as pure love,

Or as true love,

Does not include jealousy,

Or does it?

How can one know?

Of what can humankind be really certain?

Is jealous love

Merely a manifestation of love

Somehow hidden behind,

Or sheltered by a curtain?

Jealous love in its corrupt form

Is all-excluding,

Corrosive, disruptive

And derogatory in nature.

Its focus is on its self

And the love of that self,

Not on its proper object of affection.

Jealous love constitutes a fearful love, 

Often deeply ingrained with subtle or overt hatred;

It's afraid of even the shadow of another.

In its own way, 

Jealous love attempts to be protective;

Perhaps it is initially, 

But somehow, it goes astray

As good intent turns to evil.

When taken to an extreme,

Unmasked from its deceptive disguise,

Its true nature is revealed.

It is unkind,

Hurtful and over-protective;

It may become provocative, argumentative

And even downright nasty. 

Its orientation is towards death, 

Not life.

And yet, 

There is jealous love that is good,

The very opposite of adverse jealous love;

It is oriented to life, not death.

Jealous love can still be love,

when it is love that is refined,

Defined by its ultimate loving and kind,

Giving and gracious nature.

Thus there really is jealous love 

That is good,

As well as pseudo jealous love 

That is not good. 

The task of humankind

Is that of distinguishing 

Between the two kinds of jealous love. 

  

On Passionate Love

On Passionate Love

On passionate love, it may be said,

A passion that's true can soon be read

By those who know pure passion's power,

Or by those enthralled in passion's hour.

The passion of love wears many masks

And for its depth, no one ever asks.

To comprehend a passionate love

Is like understanding what's above;

'Beyond our ken', or so one might say,

Obsessive it seems in its display.

The target of passion that one loves

Erases all others as one shoves

Ev'rything else aside on the way;

'Pursue the passion', thought of the day;

Priority, passion in one's life,

Rejecting whatever, causing strife. 

The peril of passion realized,

Can be turned to beauty, thus disguised

As something that's good; that must be sought,

Not something one finds or can be bought. 

Passionate love a blessing, that's true,

Handled rightly by one who'd pursue.   

The Love of...

The Love of...

The love of whistles

Piercing the cold air,

The love of sleigh bells

Ringing everywhere;

The love of music

Touching hearts with love,

The love of angel's 

Wings fluttering above; 

The love of beauty,

Serenity of grace,

The love of laughter,

A smile upon a face;

The love of blue birds,

Twittering so sweet,

The love of raindrops

Dancing on one's feet;

The love of snow flakes

Swirling through the air,

The love of children

Playing without care;

The love of sunshine,

Clouds dancing in the sky,

The love of spring time,

Winter flying by;

The love of travel,

Freedom to express

All the loves of this life

That one can profess.  

Oh, What is Love?

Oh, What is Love?

Oh, what is love?

How can one know

That what is seen,

True love would show?

Oh, is love's face

One that's revealed

Whene'er a heart

With love is sealed?

Oh, is love's joy

One that's complete,

When it's expressed

In words so sweet?

Oh, when is love

As truth thus found,

Or does it go

Round and around?

Oh, why is love

Hard to define?

When will I know

That it is mine?

The Romantic

The Romantic

The romantic has a gentle soul

Coupled with a melancholic spirit,

Passion beyond the height and depths of joy and despair,

The softness and tenderness of pure love;

An openness to vulnerability,

A lack of immunity to enticement,

The frailty and fragility of a trusting mind,

A heart that is easily broken and mended;

The willingness of total submission

Subject to the wiles and whims of another;

Love that knows no bounds in giving and receiving,

A purity of perception that sees into the soul;

The romantic is a lover beyond compare. 

  

Is There a Dark Side to Love?

Is There a Dark Side to Love?

Is there a dark side to love?

Isn't love always perfect?

That's the way its supposed to be...

Love has its dark side,

One not always recognized...

Love seems imperfect, at best.

In retrospect, 

Those who love grow wiser...

Sometimes, but not always.

Love, supposedly perfect,

Is yet imperfect...

So wise, so late....too late.

From shades of light

To shades of dark...

Love runs the full gamut.

Love has the absence

And the presence of color...

With many shades of each.

The presence, the absence of love,

The insecurity of love...

Part of love's reality.

  

The Power of God's Love

The Power of God's Love

The power of God's love for man

Is such that no man can refute;

The good, the bad, the best in man,

His nature, no one can dispute.

A double pathway God reveals

But leaves it up to man to choose;

A godly pathway, he may walk 

Or otherwise, His love refuse.

In God's forgiveness, love is found;

It's love that God Himself will show

And give to anyone who seeks

The highest love that man can know.

God's grace is love, His power revealed

To touch man's hearts and minds for good;

To usher forth the best in man,

Revealing truth, just as He should.

God's arms of love are open wide, 

His love and mercy ever sure;

Within His realm man can abide

And with Him ever be secure.   

On Pseudo Love

On Pseudo Love

Pseudo love is not true love; it always wears a mask of deception,

Revealing the stark reality of its false nature.

It is the 'other' face that humankind oft wears,

One that laughs at death and revels in destruction.

Pseudo love does not acknowledge the reality of true love,

The beauty of nature or the blessings of the hour.

It mocks the joy of humankind and ridicules the celebration of life;

Its presence brings disgrace to a solemn occasion. 

Pseudo love cannot build a strong fortress for humankind;

It tears down the work of a builder's hands by mocking his efforts.

Like a lion, it lies in wait to pounce, attack and consume its prey;

Chaos and confusion are the order of its day. 

The truth of its false nature may be concealed for a time,

But its reality waits to be revealed.

When pitted against true love, pseudo love is exposed

For what it really is, a mere imitation of true love, 

It's like a mockery of justice, adverse in nature, 

Dependent upon its own wasted efforts at self-glorification;

Its relentlessness and senselessness, a harsh, cold reality 

That humankind must contend with, throughout the ages.

The wary eye of humankind can spot pseudo love,

Alert others to the dangers of its adverse ways,

Break the pretense of its pseudo power,  

Arise in solemn judgment against it,

Unmask its precarious plot and halt its potential terror;

Ultimately turn humankind back to his right course in life.

In any confrontation, true love invariably wins,

As deception is the devious nature of pseudo love.

When confronted with the reality of true love,

Its helplessness, hopelessness and powerlessness is revealed.

The futility of pseudo love becomes apparent,

With inevitable death as its ultimate demise.